FOREWORD Silver Angel was a project that I started about 10 years ago. It was conceived on the notion of two rival clans of immortals, with two of their ranks coming together and falling in love. The idea wasn’t an original one (take Romeo and Juliet, for instance), but I liked the angle of immortality thrown in, plus unique powers they possessed. I have to admit, when the movie Underworld hit the big screen in 2003, I was a little depressed that I’d been one-upped by Hollywood. Although the movie contained the two clans of werewolves and vampires, it was still uncomfortably close to my immortal star-crossed lovers. One of my friends pointed out the story seemed awfully close to the movie, with a strong female role in it. In frustration, I returned to my story, determined I’d turn it into a love story that would make the movie pale in comparison. I think, hopefully, I have succeeded that much. Silver Angel is now a three part story. The writing styles and character viewpoints alter during the series. This is important, because I wanted to experiment with sampling the feelings and emotions of the characters in different ways throughout the entire story. My goal was to present a story filled with love, angst and joy. A story of a war between two opposing factions of immortals, and the pain it causes many. And ultimately, a reconciliation between all immortals. So, without further ado, I present to you, my story in its entirety.
Table of Contents PART I – SILVER ANGEL ............................................................................................................ 3
PRELUDE: THE CONCLAVE ............................................................................................................ 3 CHAPTER 1 - SUNDERED ............................................................................................................... 6 CHAPTER 2 - AWAKENING .......................................................................................................... 11 CHAPTER 3 – A SILVER HAIRED WOMAN ................................................................................... 16 CHAPTER 4 – AN OLD FRIEND .................................................................................................... 20 CHAPTER 5 - HOUNDED .............................................................................................................. 29 CHAPTER 6 – A PLANNED TRIP .................................................................................................. 47 CHAPTER 7 - CRESCENDO ........................................................................................................... 53 CHAPTER 8 – THE AWAKENING .................................................................................................. 58 CHAPTER 9 - REVELATION .......................................................................................................... 64
PART II – SYNERGY .................................................................................................................. 66
CHAPTER 1 – A MEETING OF MINDS ........................................................................................... 66 CHAPTER 2 – PUZZLE IN THE ROCKIES ....................................................................................... 77 CHAPTER 3 – A MEETING OF OLD FRIENDS ................................................................................ 85 CHAPTER 4 – ASCENSION ......................................................................................................... 109
PART III – FLASH POINT ...................................................................................................... 128
CHAPTER 1 – MEETING THE TWINS ......................................................................................... 128 CHAPTER 2 – THE BLACK KNIGHT ............................................................................................ 140 CHAPTER 3 – KATIYA ............................................................................................................... 151 CHAPTER 4 – AWAKENINGS ...................................................................................................... 155 CHAPTER 5 – THE DUEL ........................................................................................................... 165 CHAPTER 6 – A DOUBLE EDGED SWORD................................................................................... 176 CHAPTER 7 – CONSEQUENCES .................................................................................................. 183 CHAPTER 8 – AN IMMORTAL IN JAPAN ..................................................................................... 186 CHAPTER 9 – MEETINGS ........................................................................................................... 189 CHAPTER 10 – FADHILI AND AURORA ...................................................................................... 195 CHAPTER 11 – THE EXISTENCE OF FAIRIES .............................................................................. 199 CHAPTER 12 – FLASH POINT .................................................................................................... 205 EPILOGUE ................................................................................................................................. 208
Silver Angel By Darrell Summerfelt
PART I – SILVER ANGEL PRELUDE: THE CONCLAVE Darkness shrouded the mountain in living curtains, cloudy wraiths of ebony. It was a stark place, surrounded by lands with withered forests and dead streams. Sunlight raked the ground, parching the life out of any creatures unfortunate enough to call this home. Trickles, all that remained of flowing streams, wound their way through scarred gorges where predator and prey alike drank side by side in the temporary truce of overwhelming thirst. No creatures ventured near the mountain. Some base instinct warned them away. No goats tread upon its steep slopes, no hawk circled high above its jagged peak. Only the wind moaned along its surface, seeming to wish it were elsewhere. A lone figure alighted at the foot of the mountain. Grimly, his eyes surveyed the barren landscape as he stood there, nothing escaping his piercing brown eyes. A cassock of light brown wool shielded him for the most part from the sun, exposing only his dark brown hands and hooked eagle-beak nose. Motionless, he stood apart from the mountain, eyes penetrating the unnatural clouds that raced around it. Gritting his teeth, he started his approach to the giant metal doors at its base. As he walked, energies sprang from him, surrounding him, and his image shimmered and vanished. ***** A cry of despair sprang through the underhalls of the Conclave. Shrouded heads turned from their studies in the library, as one looking in the direction of the turning chambers. A few collected their studies and walked out the massive arch of the library, curiosity overtaking them. The gallery overlooking the auditorium chamber was packed shoulder to shoulder with dark robed spectators. Rank, power and age of the lords in the front rows gave way to the younger, weaker unranked members behind on the benches. Below, on a stone table surrounded by crystals, a creature lay shackled on its back with chains of star metal. Near the table stood the Master of Change and the Hunter Lord. They conferred side by side, watching the creature as it writhed upon the stone slab. The seats had filled to capacity. Still more were standing in the aisles, watching with great interest. The two elders nodded, and the Master walked to the table’s foot, while the Lord took the head.
Unseen by any, a brown finger reached up to scratch the end of a hooked nose. Conclave, the Hunter Lord began. The voice in everyone’s mind was ancient and dark, a wave of power and strength. The older members of the audience bowed resentfully to its obvious superiority, the younger members in awe at its omnipotence. The cassockwearing man standing in the upper aisle merely narrowed his eyes, repressing his revulsion. Today begins a new era in our war against the others. For ages, we have been in stalemate, unable to gain ground in our war of dominance. Our abilities are too evenly countered. It was given to us to find a way to tip this balance, to seek out this enemy which can hide amongst our ranks... to find and destroy them in their hidden strongholds. The brown skin man raised an eyebrow in curiosity, wondering what the Hunter Lord was up to. The ancient Hunter nodded at the Master of Change. Raising his arms, the Master bowed his head. Everyone in the audience felt energy start to drain from them. The lords in the front rank started to growl in outrage at this personal breach. The Hunter Lord glared at them, silencing their rebellion. The creature on the table squirmed in the shackles. It was a Second Born, its ethereal body struggling against the links designed to hold it, harm it. Still, the Master of Change absorbed energy from the gathered Conclave. While others around him staggered or hunched, the brown clad man stood with clasped hands, invisible shielding rippling around him to prevent the drain of life force affecting all around him. He let his senses probe the Second Born, his mind linking with it. Grimly, he felt the base emotions and instincts of the creature. It was a spawn of Guardian blood< his kin. The people in the benches began to breathe with great difficulty. The Master of Change seemed to have grown several inches, the crystals around him scintillating with stolen energy. Abruptly he dropped his arms. The Conclave shuddered and remained quiet, too drained to do more than raise their heads and watch the proceedings. The Hunter Lord nodded again, and the Master raised his arms above the struggling creature. A lash of energies raced over the creature to the Lord at the head of the table. The Lord stood stolidly, absorbing the energies from his Master of Change, amplified by the presence of the crystals. The brown man stood silently, watching with grim interest. The last ounce of energy poured forth from the Master, who slumped over the table. The Lord stood darkly, his robes rising around him with stolen life force. Grasping the Second Born’s head with inhuman Hunter reflexes, he held it firmly. The creature screamed pitifully as the dark energies streamed from the leader of the Hunters into its ethereal body. Sable streaks raced along its body, outlining its formless musculature. The Lord bent his head, forcing his will upon the creature. The audience sat or stood in awe as the Second Born’s features began to shift, morphing into a large, dark creature. The star metal bands on its limbs snapped from overstress, while the Lord maintained his iron grip on the creature’s head, willing his change upon it.
The creature grew, too big to be supported any longer by the stone slab. With a crash, the stone split in pieces, dust obscuring the chamber from the audience. Silence reigned. Murmurs began in the back ranks, near the still-quiet brown man. A terrible howl split the air, freezing the hearts of the entire Conclave. A wave of triumph rushed through the mountain, the Hunter Lord pleased with his experiment. A biting wind tore through the chamber, flickering robes around the masses. Everyone’s eyes remained fixed on the stage, waiting for the dust to clear so they could behold< A mammoth beast stood on the stage, eyes of fire sweeping the mass of people. It was as tall at the shoulder as the Hunter Lord who stood beside it. In form, it was a great wolf, fur of ebon darkness. It had a serpentine hairless tail writhing behind it with a life of its own. Great fangs protruded from its lips, dripping hissing saliva onto the stone floor. Amazing, stated one of the lords in the lower banks, so all could hear. The great beast shifted its attention to the lord who spoke, making him shrink back in his seat. It hears us? another said with disbelief. Not only that, the Hunter Lord grinned in triumph. It understands us. The brown cassocked man backed up the stairs. This was not foreseen, and an unwelcome ally to the enemy’s arsenal. The others must know. The beast turned its head, staring at the brown skinned man retreating. Gods below, it sees me! A low growl built within the creature, shaking the crystals from their tables nearby. The Hunter Lord glanced at the beast, then followed its gaze up to the man on the stairs. A smile split the Lord’s feral features. ‚Hello, Old Friend,‛ he said in Assyrian, the current spoken language in use. His voice, unaccustomed to speaking, grated against the ears of all. Realizing his invisibility was useless against the beast and its master, the brown cassock man dropped his wards, appearing to all around him. They gasped and withdrew, feeling the blood rage wake in them, but too weak to summon the energy necessary to attack him. You have gone too far, Hunter. The intruder’s brown eyes pierced those of his enemy. You have warped one of the Second Born, and overtipped the balance. No good can come of this. There is no balance, fool, the Hunter Lord chuckled. Balance is merely a sham you Warders want to maintain. We were never trying to keep it. You and your kind will be sought and destroyed. The beast tore furrows in the stone floor with its claws, eager to jump at the brown man and tear his life out of his body. The Lord motioned, and the beast stilled. I find it amusing to let you live, Warder. How generous of you. The cassock man turned away, heading up the stairs. The booming laughter of the Hunter Lord followed him through the Conclave, out the mountain, and over the barren wasteland.
What entertainment is prey if it doesn’t have some idea of the immortal danger it’s in? The brown cassock flowed around him as the man sped through the heavens, one thought repeating in his mind< The beast can see through wards.
CHAPTER 1 - SUNDERED Nothing is more tragic than love lost. It sometimes came to me, the power of premonition. I’d be sitting with my beloved, having dinner, and a vision of disaster would descend on me. It wasn’t a predictable power, but the visions were always clear and accurate. This time, the premonition that came to me had been dire. I could still hear the cries of anguish resounding in my mind. I struggled through a pitch black sky, the wind filled with choking smoke and ash. I could not see beyond the tip of my nose, the darkness enclosed me so. I shifted my body downwards hoping beyond hope the air would be cleaner there. Already I could feel the soot and embers touching on my body despite my wards, starting their own miniature conflagrations. The thunder of my heart, the rasp of my breath and the pain of the burns were the only things I felt. With a suddenness that was breathtaking, I escaped from my numb tomb into the fresh night sky. Stars shone faintly above me through the false clouds of ash. I soared free, spreading my arms to embrace the clean coolness of night, willing it to ease the pain pricks on my abused body. Looking down, I sought my goal. Ages seemed to pass as I crossed the open water of the sea. I could see the angry swells as they surged away from their tormentor that pulsed far ahead of me. My urgency rose a notch, and I felt myself sink toward the waters to escape the searing gale that buffeted me, a wall of heat tenfold more powerful than its brother far behind me. The sea was only a minor comfort however; its surface roiled not only with the wind, but its own boiling heat. Tears streaming from my eyes now, I pushed the heat away from me with my wards, flying as no bird could ever. The water streamed up behind me in an angry rooster tail as I dropped nearly to the surface, the force of my passage flattening the sea for cubits around me. Eternities passed before I finally reached the coast. By this time I could tell I was far too late. The great coastal city perched under the glowing mountain was no more. The streets were now only rivers of ash mud, winding their molten way down the hills to the sea. I circled the city, my gorge rising. Many thousands of lives lost.
I landed upon the still intact roof of a building and scanned the area for survivors, but it was in vain. There were none. I fell to my knees and started sobbing uncontrollably, though not for the almost incomprehensible number of dead. For just one. One that I hoped had escaped to the open sea of her own accord, but I knew hadn’t. My soulmate. I was racked with grief as the swift current of molten mud rose higher in the streets. I knew I wouldn’t flee for the sea, away from this gray Hades. Half of my life had passed away in this doomed city. My other half would soon pass in the same fashion, perhaps to be reunited in the Elysian Fields. Suddenly a spark touched my mind, and my body stiffened in response. I scanned the area once more, dropping my wards so I could focus all my energies on the search. The released brutal zephyr now ripped the ragged clothing from my body. A corner of my mind screamed in agony from the smelting furnace of heat. But I would not give up my search, for my life’s life had reached out to me. The fading essence of my beloved touched my mind once more, lingering gently. I felt the pressure which lay upon her breast, tons of mud and stone. I felt sick to my stomach. Buried alive. Do not fear, my love, her thoughts caressed me like silken cloth. They shall return to this city in time, and find me. We shall be reunited. But how long, I asked her. The city is in utter ruins. It will be lost to the memory of men, and never found again. Like Babylon, or Atlantis. My dismay could not be controlled, and I fear my lady was not immune to its suggestion. You must flee from here, my life mate. This was no accident. The horror rose in me, and my defenses sprung up around me, abruptly cutting off the howling tempest. Them? I asked. But I needed no answer. I knew. Now that I was aware I could feel the traces of lingering auras that permeated the angry mountain above the city. Them, she stated. Silence. My dearest, I must prepare for the Long Sleep if I am to survive this. My life essence will wane, and my aura fade so it cannot be scented. But I have barely enough energy to initiate it. I must conserve. I nodded to the river of mud, under which my life mate was buried. I will dig you out. NO! she screamed out forcefully, knocking me onto my back. You must go! The Hounds are already hunting for survivors. For us. Then I shall sleep with you, I stated, rising to my feet. Dearest, you know you cannot do that. Only those of us born to it can attempt it. Please, love, go with the speed of Hermes. You cannot withstand the attack that comes. I felt, then, the building of forces coming from west over the sea. The goose flesh rose on my skin.
I will not leave you to those beasts, I cried out in anguish. Love, you must. I thought upon the matter in the short time I had. Our nearest possible friends and allies were in Gaul, Egypt and Greece. Too far. No help would be forthcoming. I thought about withstanding the forces that were rapidly approaching, but I knew that would serve no purpose. Without my love’s abilities, I would be quickly destroyed, and she would soon be discovered and killed. I could not flee. Even now I knew the Hounds had caught my scent. Once scented, I would be pursued across the ends of the Earth. Eventually they would corner me, and rend my soul and body. The Hounds would assimilate all my Warder secrets, including the locations of my people, and the hidden Stronghold. Already I could feel my life mate’s essence dropping, and her aura fading. I looked into the mud flow, watching the pieces of debris being carried down it inexorably. Like all creatures caught in the river of time. I smiled then, for the idea that came to mind was pure wickedness. It would deny the Hunters their prey, but would guarantee my survival. My life mate must have caught my notion, for she momentarily struggled back to wakefulness. Dearest, no! I had already prepared for the transport of my essence. I pictured her lovely face, and smiled. Do not worry, dearest. My spirit will always recognize your spirit. Over the years, I will return here to Pompeii, even if I don’t understand why. And if you are released before I find you, look to the land beyond the western ocean. My essence will always seek to remain near the land I met you. But I will not recognize you, love. Rebirth will mask you from me. We will be reunited, my life. I can see that much of our destinies. Keep me always in your heart. Dearest love, I will miss you. But I will not envy you. Death is not something I would court. My only love, sleep well. Death awaits me even now; but at her side is Rebirth, and he beckons to me. I will be born again. ‘Til we meet again, loved one. Farewell, my Silver Angel. I felt the last of her consciousness slip away from me. The winds that came now were no longer physical, and they tore foully through my wards. The scent and aura of carrion and pestilence ripped through my being. I knew this was only the leading edge of the unnatural storm which would soon hit. Still, I waited. Soon the winds of ash and rain cleared to the west, and I saw those who pursued me and my love.
A full dozen flew a dreadful course through the troubled sky toward the buried city. Six Hounds and Hunters. The fact that a Hunter was coming upset me, but six, together, in one group seriously dismayed me. This was the force that awakened the volcano and buried my love< this much I could tell from their filthy auras. This was the party that forced my next action. And I would be damned if I would go without inflicting pain and suffering upon them. I gathered the life force around me, feeling the winds rise as the earth itself released energy to me, coming to my aid. To my amusement, I realized that Pompeii sat almost directly on top of an intersect in ley lines, the arterial energy of the world. I eased my consciousness into its web of power, immediately feeling a tremendous surge of energy. I felt the madness rise in me as I gathered more than I could safely contain. And still, I gathered more. By this time, the incoming party knew that I was present, and they reduced speed. Still a fair distance away over the ocean, but clearly visible to one with the augmented sight, I watched as the Hunters released their Hounds. The great dark beasts sniffed in the air, then bounded toward the city, straight as an arrow to their target. Me. I had reached my capacity for energy. Sores started appearing on my skin, blisters and fissures on my flesh. Still I drew more, teeth clenched tightly. I started feeling the skin on my body peeling off, watching as the flakes burst into flame before they hit the ground. Finally the Hounds had reached the land, no more than a thousand cubits distant. I felt the hair on my head start to curl from the energy, then it too burst into flames. Resolutely, I waited until the Hounds were no more than a hundred cubits distant. With terrible purpose, I raised my clenched hands and extended fingers toward the Hounds. Good bye, my Angel. I forcibly extinguished my life force at the rushing pack. To the Hunters far away, it must have seemed like a second eruption of the mountain. To the Hounds which were much closer, it must have seemed terrifying. Time slowed at that moment, allowing me to watch the events as they unfolded with remarkable detail. My life force flew directly toward the pack fast as thought. I saw the crimson fire of the lead beast’s eyes grow as the distance closed between us. The handspan long fangs were exposed by curled lips, the creature’s reptilian skin glowing with the light I had released. The malevolent light in its eyes reflected ages of death and torment it had inflicted on my kin and mortals alike. Paws the width of a discus bore claws of adamant as long as its fangs, quite capable of disemboweling an elephant, but reserved for softer, more intelligent prey. A fitting companion, indeed, to a Hunter. The ember-filled eyes widened as my essence was almost upon it. Millennia of evil fled from its orbs, replaced by fear of the doom it knew was approaching. The spines upon its back raised in useless defense, obsidian serpent tail tucked between its hind legs.
Just before I met it, I was struck by the fact that this beast was older by far than myself, it being one of the Second Born. A wave of pity struck me then, almost making me change my course. It hadn’t started as an evil beast, this was told over and over to all Warders. The Second Born who were doomed to become Hounds had been perverted and twisted into the gargantuan killers before me. These beings who had once sprang from my own Guardian blood now sought and destroyed those who were kin. Including myself, and by association, my mate. This thought cleared my resolve. They were no longer the Second Born, but demonic Hounds that must be destroyed. They could not return to their former immortal lives, as I could not. With an ethereal gritting of teeth I passed through the lead beast. Behind me its shattered corpse rained down in pieces to its mother, the earth. Return, I thought to it in benediction. Perhaps you may rise again. Remember your former life and love. I spread out my essence like the fiery wings of the immortal phoenix, my conflagration consuming all the Hounds. In the distance the Hunters watched with horror as I screamed their way. Two of the Hunters stood still in the air, paralyzed by the spectral destruction of their Hounds. Three gathered their forces to strike me down. And although the power they released would have turned my body to ash, it now affected me not in the least. The last Hunter was the wisest, or most sensible, and dove down into the boiling sea, his robes trailing behind him like ebon wings, already catching fire from my approach. I hit the remaining Hunters like a wall of fire. They resisted the effect as long as they could, which was not long enough. Hunters were attackers, not defenders. They were unable to raise wards to protect themselves. The hopeless frenzy of their minds brushed against mine as I passed them by. They had a moment of hope as the storm of power let up. Then the wings of my elongated body covered them, and their life essences abruptly snuffed out. I offered no benediction to their ashes as they fell to the sea. I looked down upon the world with wonder. I was dead, yes, but not quite. I was suspended between life and death, what was, and what would be. The peace of oblivion beckoned to me, her arms outstretched. Both Warders and Hunters maintained that Death personified was a woman. It was an interesting notion, considering that life springs from women. But for some reason, it seemed right that the final being to greet you at the end of your existence would be a woman. I felt now her warm embrace, and I reveled in it. To put aside the endless struggle that was the life of an immortal, the hardship of constantly watching and protecting myself and my mate from predators that meant to destroy us. Half my soul longed for the slumber from which I would never awake. But the other half rebelled, remembering the events that had brought me to this point, and the one who meant more to me than life itself. Death withdrew from me, her eyes filled with understanding and promise. But even that short embrace with the Ender of All had depleted my strength. The fires which had burned in me were now cool embers, my wings of power snuffed out.
Now I felt another presence near me, one which all born into this world feel at least once in their lives. I could feel his warm power encompass and guide me, and I experienced joy. Death had withdrawn herself, and Rebirth had filled the void. I will never forget that first deathflight across the world, nor the abrupt halt as I found myself in a warm, thrumming environment. I chuckled to myself as I imagined how the Conclave would deal with the abrupt disappearance of a small group of their Hunters and Hounds, along with their prey. I reveled at the knowledge that I had fouled up the aura residue in the area. Even if more Hounds were brought in to scent the place, my love’s lingering aura would be wiped clean. I had protected her the only way I could. But the memories started fading as I felt pressure in my environment. An inexorable force was drawing me forward. This was it – Rebirth. The comforting male presence of my guide withdrew itself. I felt the warmness of my environment slip away, followed by abrupt coldness. My chuckle turned into a wail as I was slapped on the buttocks. I looked into my mortal mother’s sky blue eyes and sighed. Even now I could feel the memories of my life pass away, like sand through an hourglass. But I will never forget my love, I thought. We will meet again, my dearest lady. My Silver Angel. The memories of my Warder past ceased abruptly, and the cycle of life began.
CHAPTER 2 - AWAKENING Sometimes awakening is not worth the pain. The sound of nearby vibrations finally woke her from her deep sleep. Her first impulse was to stretch, giving an earth shattering yawn. Then she would sit up in bed, look out the window into the lower gardens of Pompeii. A street urchin would pass by selling pastries of some sort, and the woman of course would buy a few for her and her mate. A sad pang touched her heart then, and she stopped her reminiscing. An edge of horror crept into her mind as brief images started to invade her pleasant memories. The hammering had grown louder now, as if a mad blacksmith had set up shop in her villa. Damn them, she thought. Can’t they just let me sleep? She opened her eyes wearily. Or at least, tried to. Her eyes remained sealed. What the...? Panic started to rise. She tried to draw air in through her nostrils, but they too were sealed. Her mouth wouldn’t open, and her limbs wouldn’t move. Now she was becoming aware of a very heavy weight bearing down on her body. Don’t panic, she thought. Control your emotions, control your body. You have lived up to this point through your control. A little while longer won’t be difficult. Where am I? she wondered.
The answer came slowly to her foggy mind. Pompeii. The eruption had buried her under tons of mud and ash. The city was destroyed and lost. Thousands of lives lost as well. Where is He? she wondered, and her mind shrank away from the answer, as if she really didn’t want to know. He sacrificed himself to save you, remember? The Hunters were coming with their Hounds, six pairs of them. They were coming to kill the renegade they had trapped in the eruption... an eruption they had created themselves. He arrived too late to rescue me, and when He did find me, I was already buried under twenty cubits of mud. The Hounds had already caught His scent, as well as mine. We would not escape. She felt tears trying to pass the barrier which pressed down on her face. He sacrificed himself in a burst of essence. She remembered, as she had put herself into the deep sleep, the last touch of his mind as it brushed against hers. And the earth had trembled with another massive explosion, this time not caused by the volcano. Rebirth, He had said. Endless repetition of birth and death. A fate reserved for mortals. Why inflict such agony upon your immortal soul? The parting had been enough to jar her temporarily awake, the splitting apart of their souls again. His essence had fled his ruined shell, eventually finding refuge in a new shell created by mortal man, a newborn baby. His Warder memories would fade to nothingness. He would not remember his soulmate. Where he was, she would never know, for detection of auras was a power of Hounds and Warders, not of her breed, the Hunter. Without his presence, she was lost. She would never know if she passed him on a street tomorrow, or three hundred years from now, in an Emperor’s palace somewhere. But he had insisted he would recognize her, even though he was a lowly human with no powers at all. The hammering at this point was getting painful. High pitched ringing stung the place behind her eyes and inside her ears, and every finger’s breadth of skin upon her body tingled with sensation. It took her a few minutes to finally understand what was happening around her. Someone has found my resting place, she sighed mentally. Perhaps looters come to liberate some of the wealth of Pompeii. Or maybe... and she quailed at the thought, purposely forcing it from her mind. No. If it were Hunters, they wouldn’t be using the digging instruments these people obviously were. They would be setting their Hounds to digging. This was a good sign. These were mere humans. Eagerly, she strained her senses to pick up more clues. The sounds of many footsteps and groaning wheels came to her heightened hearing. Whatever was taking place on the surface, it was no small operation, so the chance of tomb robbers or treasure seekers could be ruled out. Maybe the Emperor was clearing
out the razed city to rebuild it, as he had after the earthquake, just years before the eruption. Yes, come to think of it, this was most likely the reason. She relaxed for the first time then, concentrating on her body’s functions. The Emperor knew her and her mate, for they had disclosed their identities to him. It was even possible (though barely), the Emperor knew she had been in the city of Pompeii during the eruption, and had sent men to find her. This was a comforting thought. This meant the Hunters were no longer present, and she was for the moment safe in this ruined city. Hours passed before the sounds died down and moved off into the distance. The entombed-one sighed mentally, assuming the workers had quit for the day. By this time she had restored feeling to all her limbs. This was good, but also bad. The tons of ash and mud that had buried her now pressed solidly down upon her, making her very uncomfortable. To make matters worse, she had to relieve herself in the most extreme way. Gritting her teeth (which she found was one action she could still perform), she resolved she wouldn’t spend another day in this tomb. Focusing her thought upon her right hand, she willed it to clench into a fist. The sound of crumbling rock and mortar thundered in her ears. After a few seconds of effort her hand had freed itself up to the wrist, the dirt around it dissolved into powder. She scraped the edge of its hollow until she felt the dirt fall on it from a definite direction. So, I’m laying on my left side, hmm? The hand started to dig its way to her face, moving like an unstoppable juggernaut, pulling the arm free after it, making very slow but steady progress. By this time the noise from the hand’s burrowing was giving her a splitting headache, and she had to take a break to soothe it. Hard work... she thought, feeling a tickle of sweat make its way through a minute crevasse near her forehead. Her Love would have laughed if he had seen her like this, and the thought made her grin (or at least try). Caught like a bug in amber, he would have said, clucking his tongue. Can’t you do anything the easy way? Groaning inwardly, she realized she had been working all these hours for nothing. The two of them shared a heritage, one which was more powerful in him, but she had nevertheless. Immediately the wards sprang up around her body, disintegrating the material which encased her. With a wheeze, she drew in her first breath in what felt like ages. Dry, tomb-like air, but why wouldn’t it be? She worked her jaw to relieve the angry protest in it and opened her gritty eyes. Darkness. Well, she didn’t expect any less. She slipped her body around so she could face the direction of the surface. Gods, keeping the wards up was a daunting task. She crawled her way maybe three cubits upward through solid dirt before she started to feel the wards weaken. Hastily she cleared a space to accommodate her body comfortably and collapsed into it, weary to the bone. She awoke for a short time during the night to an urgent call of nature, her body reminding her that it had its needs as well. Thankfully, she had the small pit she had climbed from. Wearily she rolled back into her cocoon and fell asleep once more.
Day was heralded by the return of the workers’ noises. The woman woke quickly this time, her body starting to remember its natural rhythms. Rubbing her fingers through her straw-brittle hair, she could feel the solidified ash mud drop onto her shoulders hard as pebbles. ‚The first thing I’m going to do when I reach the surface is have a long soak in the public baths,‛ she said into the darkness. The echo of her dry rasp-like voice bounced back at her, assaulting her hearing. Her mouth snapped shut. Perhaps a goblet of wine first, to soothe her aching throat. Then, definitely, the baths. Sighing with a sound that amplified to the hiss of a python, she raised her wards and started once more for the surface. What would have taken her mate less than a minute dragged into hours for the woman. She could only progress a few more cubits before the wards weakened once more. Gasping with the effort, she laid on her back staring at the invisible ceiling. This is killing me, she realized. I’m slowing down, getting weaker. The Sleep must have drained me more than I thought. Her hand caressed the stone-like mud wall, feeling the pits where stones had been. How long was I sleeping? A chill climbed her spine, hair rising on the back of her neck. A thought passed her mind, speaking of long, long years. Gods, no! She shivered. Please don’t let it be that long. By the time the workers had left for the evening, she had risen only a few more cubits. This, she estimated, was half way to the surface from her resting place. Although she was immortal, even her supernatural vitality was becoming depleted. She threw herself down into the hollow she had excavated and started thinking. If she tried to contact the people on the surface for help, they would just as likely run away, thinking their work site was haunted by a spirit or monster. That option was out, then. If she focused her will, she could perhaps contact one of her Mate’s people, who would gladly set her free. Unfortunately, such a link would just as likely summon other, unwanted attention. Of the deadly sort. This option, too, was out. Her mind wandered, searching for contact with another mind in the near vicinity. Nothing responded. Sighing, she realized it was up to her alone. Night had fallen upon the land. She felt it, even through the layers of mud and ash that separated her from the surface. This was the time her own powers focused easily. She scanned the area once more, seeking deposits of energy in her environment. A snake burrowing near the surface abruptly ceased to exist, its life force feeding her. A bat flying above disintegrated, followed by a multitude of biting insects. Her life mate would have disapproved, but it was a matter of life and death to her. He would have understood. As her natural power returned, her mind sought out greater deposits of energy. A campfire left untended near the digging site abruptly snuffed out, kettles of steaming water flash-freezing solid. An olive tree on a nearby hill withered two hundred years in a matter of moments. An unlucky goat grazing in the darkness vaporized.
The woman nodded contentedly. Her eyes now could see in the darkness of her hole. All her innate senses began to return to her. With disgust, she could see her toga had fallen away in tatters long ago. Her exposed skin was a chalk-white, her long hair covered with mud so its natural color couldn’t be distinguished. The smell coming from the pit she had used for her call of nature made her gag with distaste. But she was still too weak to continue her digging. Once more, she sought out energy, this time concentrating downward. Perhaps the volcano had hot springs she could use to bolster her reserves. After spending half the night fruitlessly searching the area with her mind, she stumbled upon a discovery that made her crow with delight. Pompeii was built upon a ley line intersect! The arterial energy of the world flowed in lines of energy near its surface, like the web of a gargantuan spider. Not even she could guess why the energy of the world traveled in such a way, or met itself at certain locations in crossroads of power. The only thing she cared about at that moment was one of the crossroads was nearby, and accessible. With her will, she punctured the ley line careful, drawing only the energy she could safely hold. This was more like it! The wards snapped up around her, a thousand times more powerful than before. She stood in her small space, forcing the ceiling to disintegrate around her head. The dust billowed away from the wards, allowing her to breathe fresh air. Time to leave. Her feet left the ground as she rose through the earth, her arms spread wide in cruciform. She willed the chalky mud to leave her body, flaking down and away into the vacuum behind her. Triumphantly she broke through the surface, hovering in the night like a ghost over its bones. She was free now. Now what? she thought. I don’t know how long I’ve been sleeping. I must find someone to speak to. But first, she looked down at herself ruefully, ribs sticking out visibly, I must find something to wear and eat. The clothing was easy. Raw materials lay strewn all around her in the form of vegetation and minerals. It took a matter of minutes to reform them into a respectable toga. She even fashioned a comb, patiently tugging the knots out of her abused hair. When she was finished, she examined herself in a reflective glass she formed in the dirt. Good enough, she thought, giving her silver hair a last tug. A glimpse of metal reflecting in the glass, and her eyes darted to her right arm. Thank the Gods! Her arm band was still intact. Then again, it was star metal. She caressed the intricate metal band lightly. My Dearest, she thought firmly, I will find you. Her eyes rose to look around her for the first time. In shock she realized why she hadn’t been found or awakened sooner. Pompeii was a vast plateau on the side of what could, by a stretch of the imagination, could be called a volcano. No sign was visible that a city had once stood here.
Vegetation had slowly reclaimed the once famous city, and a small fishing village sat down at the seaside, where once the huge docks of the city moored ships from around the Mediterranean. Even now she could she unfamiliar ships floating at anchor in the bay, their shape unlike anything she had seen. She started walking to the village, taking in the sights and sounds of this alien land.
CHAPTER 3 – A SILVER HAIRED WOMAN Destiny is as easy to avoid as a mountain dropping on you. I yawned as I leaned back in my chair, stretching my arms behind me. The first full day of the school year was over. I reached for my mug on the desk beside me and sipped its cold contents, swirling the coffee around in my mouth. Another year of teaching had begun, same as last year, the year before, and so on. My eyes shifted around the class room which had been mine for ten years. The posters of famous people stared back at me as they had thousands of times before, studying my life as I had always studied theirs. Pathetic, they seemed to say, their eyes wise, mouths pouting in thoughtful expressions. You are stuck in a rut, Alex my friend, Albert Einstein told me bluntly, his hair the classic finger-in-the-electric-socket frizz. His sad Basset Hound eyes silently gazed at me with pity, and I broke the stare, glancing out the window. Even the weather seemed tired – the sky grey, the clouds streaming bored tears onto the same groaning earth. If this was depression, I didn’t like it. I focused my blurred vision on the wall clock. Damn, five to four. I jumped forward, spilling some of the coffee on my shirt. Crap< brand new shirt. I grabbed my jacket from the peg behind me and pulled it on clumsily with my mug still in hand. Double crap. The new principal was a ball-buster, I knew. I’d catch it if I was late to the first staff meeting of the school year. I weaved through the desks and scattered chairs in the classroom, making for the door at speed. I gave a thumbs-up to the poster of Socrates hanging on the door as I whipped past. The ancient teacher merely gave me a stony bored glance, as if he’d seen this a thousand times before, and would again. I passed a couple of students in the hall, my jacket half on and fluttering like a wounded bird behind me. They pasted themselves to the green and red locker banks as if I were a charging bull, looks of confusion and humor on their faces, respectively. I assumed the confused youth was new to this school, or else he would have known my habit of being late all the time. Cursing, I realized I had forgotten my briefcase in my classroom. Triple crap. Oh well, maybe I could read Bob’s notes in the meeting. Still... not good. Where was my mind today?
I rounded the last corner, actually feeling the G-forces trying to force me into the opposite wall. Almost there, with thirty seconds to spare! I was galloping down the main stretch to the staff room like a mad marathon runner. I noticed a mop and bucket propped against the principal’s office door as I passed. For some reason this started setting off an alarm in my head which I promptly ignored. Unfortunately, I must have missed the wet floor sign. A woman in a blue dress and jacket was walking ahead, her back to me, reading the numbers on the door. I slowed now that I was reaching my destination. Or tried to. Too late, I realized the floor had a slick coat of water on it. My ten year-old dress shoes had the traction of glass on ice. At the point that I realized I was hydroplaning towards the woman, the only thing I could manage to do was grip my sluicing coffee mug tighter and yell, ‚Look out!‛ The woman’s head turned slowly toward me. I watched her eyes slowly widen. Too slow, I groaned. The next thing I knew I was laying against the lockers at the end of the hall. Well, not quite. The woman had served as a fairly decent bumper. She was laying with her back to me, her legs and arms tangled with mine. I glanced at my coffee mug, which seemed to be unharmed. Close call, that. She muttered something foreign, which I assumed was not meant to be kind. ‚I’m so sorry,‛ I said when my breath came back, too embarrassed to look her in the face. Which I couldn’t anyway. I had a face full of silver hair. ‚Are you going to get off me?‛ she said coldly. I realized the precarious position of my limbs around hers, not to mention my left hand, which had somehow snuck its way around her and onto her left breast. Quickly I pulled away from her, sliding myself back to a sitting position. ‚Oh God, I’m so sorry,‛ I groaned. ‚I shouldn’t have run in the halls.‛ A part of my mind chuckled at the irony. The woman got to her knees and tried to brush the remaining dark contents of my coffee mug off her blue skirt. No use. She gave up in disgust and got to her feet. At this point, she discovered the heel on her right shoe had snapped off. Reaching down, she slipped the shoes off and threw them into a nearby trash can. I could only watch as she stood there with her back to me, her silver pony tail swinging with the trembling motion of her shoulders – I didn’t think she was laughing. ‚Please forgive me,‛ I said, idiotically holding my coffee mug in both hands, mesmerized by the sway of her braided hair. ‚Go away,‛ she simply stated in a rather strained voice. Alex Crenshaw, high school social studies teacher, exit hastily stage right. The veterans in the staff room turned their heads as I came in the door, then as one looked up at the clock. I limped quickly into the room, finding my chair empty, far from the center of attention. Yes, sitting at the back of the class. Tugging my jacket the rest of
the way on, I made my way to my accustomed seat and sat down. The secretary looked through a small deck of cards she held, and found one to her liking. With a smug smile, she got up and walked back to my table and handed it to me. I looked from her face to the card and read it out loud. Hello! My name is ALEX CRENSHAW and I am a(n) SOCIAL STUDIES TEACHER I must have raised an eyebrow at this, because the secretary smirked widely. ‚For the new principal,‛ she said, straightening the few remaining cards in her hand. ‚Can’t he just do role call like everyone else?‛ I muttered. The secretary adjusted her expression back to solemn business and winked at me. ‚Just wait. It gets better.‛ Then she turned to walk back to her seat, leaving me puzzled. I didn’t like the sound of that. All heads turned to the front of the ‚class‛ as the bulky man stood. He was gigantic, in a Herculean sort of way. His bright eyes stood out fiercely in his large browed face. A well-trimmed beard rounded off his features, and I remembered a clay pot I had once seen from Greece. Oh yeah, definitely Hercules. ‚If we are all ready, I’d like to begin.‛ Wow, voice like a ten year old boy. How about that? ‚My name is Mr. Rictor.‛ I leaned over to Bob Brooks on my left. ‚Guy’s build like a brick out house.‛ Bob covered his grin by taking a sip of coffee. At this point, the staff room door opened again, and the woman in the blue coffeestained jacket and skirt entered. The speech stopped and heads turned. I felt my face going red. I assumed she was a new teacher. She was gonna catch it. And it was my fault. ‚Excuse me, are you a teacher?‛ sang the angelic voice of the tenor principal. ‚Yes,‛ she said, her voice perfectly even. Not stressed any more, at least. ‚And your name is...?‛ he glanced at the secretary who held up her thin deck of cards. ‚Charlotte Meyers,‛ the newcomer said absentmindedly, more interested in finding a place to sit and probably get out of the limelight. ‚Well Ms. Meyers,‛ the principal squealed, ‚I would appreciate if you arrive on time for staff meetings.‛ Rictor wandered over to my table and glanced pointedly at me. ‚You too, Mr... Crenshaw. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s going over things twice.‛ ‚Sorry about that, Mr. Rictor,‛ I said. My humor got control. ‚It’s my fault Ms. Meyers is late. I ran into her in the hall, and we had a short talk and shared some coffee.‛ ‚Socialize after school please, Mr. Crenshaw. Ms. Meyers, please sit there so we can begin.‛
Dutifully Ms. Meyers wandered over to my table and sat in the chair to my right. The secretary was there to hand her a name tag. I glanced at it as she read it: Hello! My name is CHARLOTTE MEYERS and I am a(n) FRENCH TEACHER ‚Wanna trade cards?‛ I asked. ‚I got an Alex Crenshaw rookie card.‛ I got another chuckle from Bob on my left side, but dead silence from my right. Alright, she was going to be pissed off with me for a while. Fine, I can do silence. For at least five minutes. The staff meeting dragged on for another thirty minutes until Mr. Rictor dropped the bombshell on us that the secretary had hinted at. ‚I’m introducing a new program at this school,‛ he started, and my stomach crawled down a few inches. This wouldn’t be good. New programs seldom were. ‚I’m aware that the students are not participating in extracurricular activities, and past letters from parents suggest we should start some clubs. So I would like to take this suggestion to heart.‛ The secretary got up and brushed down her marvelous skirt. ‚Ms. Jones here will hand around a tin containing club titles. I want you to draw one piece of paper from the tin. Find out who else has the same club after our meeting, then collect the paperwork for it from Ms. Jones. The clubs will start the first Monday of October. And remember people, have fun with this.‛ Bastard. There went what little free time I had after work. Everyone watched with stone-faced expressions as the tin went around. I imagine from some of the horrified expressions on the newly-drawn that they had picked Class A winner clubs – perhaps quilt-making or basketball. Again, this was not a good sign. Finally the tin was passed to Ms. Meyers on my right, and she stuck her hand inside. With a look of concentration, she blindly rifled around inside until she found a folded piece of paper, then she withdrew her hand, smiling blandly. She looked at it briefly, then placed it on the table in front of her. The tin came to me, and I reached in and grabbed the first piece I could. Poor Bob on my left got the last one. ‚Kind of like fortune cookies, eh Bob?‛ ‚More like Russian roulette,‛ he muttered, unfolding his ‘choice’. I opened my paper and looked at it. Oh God, make that misfortune cookies. Math Club. ‚What’d you get?‛ I murmured aside to him. Bob grimaced as he read the note. ‚Archeology Club. Ye gods, someone hates me.‛ I looked furtively around, then passed him my paper. ‚Trade you?‛ Bob read my club title and quickly passed me his. ‚Wow, aren’t I lucky,‛ he smiled. ‚Math Club. And me, being an Algebra teacher and all. At least I think I am. Let me read my name tag again.‛
I held my note smugly. Bob and I must have had faces like Cheshire cats. The rest of the staff was scowling at us, with the exception of Ms. Meyers. I was tempted to ask her what she had drawn, except I was afraid I’d get my head bitten off. With that, the staff meeting was adjourned and people started to look for their club partners. I did the full circuit of the room to find my partner, but it wasn’t until I returned to my seat in confusion that my stomach made the full drop to my feet, and I glanced over at the still-seated Charlotte Meyers. ‚Don’t tell me,‛ I began. She unfolded her paper and spread it out for me to read. Archeology Club. ‚Well, Mr. Crenshaw,‛ she began, a hint of a smile coming to her lips. ‚It looks like you and I are going to run into each other more often.‛
CHAPTER 4 – AN OLD FRIEND It is a universal truth that for every answer we uncover, two more questions arise. I was dreading the first time I would have to meet with this woman to discuss the club. First, I have to admit I got off to a really bad start with her. Being knocked nearly unconscious from behind by a careless oaf doesn’t promote good feelings. Second, the woman scared me a little. It would have been all right if she had turned on me that moment and screamed blue murder. Instead... ‚Go away.‛ Somehow, I felt cheated. And chilled. Third, I think she was beautiful. I didn’t really get a good look at her, but what I saw intrigued me. And as any man knows, real beauty can be very intimidating. Four, well, I just had a strange feeling about her, but I couldn’t put a finger on it. It was probably nothing. I walked up the hall after class that Friday, my destination her classroom. Three boys leaning against lockers were excitedly talking about the new French teacher, which ended abruptly as they saw me approaching. ‚Yo, Mr. Crenshaw!‛ one of them did a half-wave. ‚What’s shakin’?‛ I smiled back, slipping into the vernacular. ‚Not much, Pete. Whassup?‛ The beret slipped back on his head a notch as he flung his hands up. ‚You check out that babe teaching French this year? Grade-A awesome, man.‛ ‚Totally flipping fantastic,‛ volunteered one of his buddies. ‚Parlez-vous, Babe-a-licious?‛ added the last one. This drew laughter from the group. ‚I don’t know if I’m learning anything,‛ said Pete, ‚but if you gotta take French, I can’t think of a better way!‛
I looked around furtively, and the boys suddenly dropped into silence. They began looking around themselves, probably expecting their French teacher to materialize out of nowhere with a detention book in one hand, their parents’ telephone numbers in the other. ‚Watch yourselves, boys,‛ I said cautiously. ‚You don’t want to tick her off.‛ I resumed my walk up the hall, calling over my shoulder, ‚Been there, done that.‛ Low murmurs followed me as I walked to her classroom door and knocked on it. There was no answer, so I tried the knob and let myself in. Behind me I heard the scattering retreat of the three boys. I couldn’t blame them. I’d rather be leaving myself. She stood framed in the wide window of her classroom, looking out across the grounds to the mountain looming in the distance. I took this moment to study her again, and realized that she was indeed very beautiful. She wore a dark brown jacket and skirt that seemed grown just for her, fitting her perfectly. Even her ears were exquisite in their seashell perfection, resting above a slender bronze neck. Her silver hair was plaited in an elaborate pony tail which trailed down her back. Here I must be perfectly clear. Her hair was silver – not gray, or white. It had the look about it of a mountain stream reflecting sunlight, or the finest dinnerware. It shone almost with a luminescence of its own. I stared entranced as the late afternoon sun drifted across her shoulders and touched on her dusky face, turning her beautiful eyes into pools of molten gold. And her lips... ‚Can I help you Mr. Crenshaw?‛ A disturbingly even tone with the undertone of a European accent. Her eyes! Damn! She had been watching me stare at her for minutes! I felt so violated, so used, so... incredibly embarrassed. ‚Maybe some other time,‛ I stuttered. ‚You looked like you were thinking.‛ She rubbed her right arm through the jacket absently as she walked to her desk. ‚Please, Mr. Crenshaw, don’t be disturbed on my account. I can think in the presence of others.‛ She reached her desk and sat down gently. ‚Maybe I will teach you the trick, sometime.‛ Poof! Up in flames. Well, I guess I deserved that. Score one for the French teacher. ‚I came to offer some suggestions for Archeology Club projects,‛ I started, putting my folder on her desk. ‚Local archeology isn’t my field of expertise, I’m afraid.‛ She raised a silver eyebrow at this. ‚You don’t study the history of the Island, Mr. Crenshaw?‛ she asked with interest. I immediately warmed to the subject. ‚I’ve spent most of my life here,‛ I explained. ‚What foreign archeologists find fascinating, I find boring and common.‛ I chuckled. ‚I remember watching a group of them study the petroglyphs south of town. It was hilarious watching them bouncing
around, pointing out the rock carvings. Personally, I always thought they were prehistoric graffiti put there by a bored Cro-Magnon teenager.‛ ‚Then you are not interested in local history,‛ she stated. She leaned forward in her chair. ‚This will make our fields trips more difficult. What do you find interesting, Mr. Crenshaw?‛ Her lips curled up in a cat-like smile. I found myself staring deeply into her golden eyes. Whoa, snap out of it Alex! ‚Greek and Roman culture,‛ I said, pointing at the folder on her desk, thankfully shifting my attention to it. She placed her long fingered hand on the folder and gracefully opened it. Her eyes quickly scanned the pages as I watched a loose silken strand stray across her forehead. As she read, a hand came up to push away the offending lock. I noticed she wasn’t wear a wedding band. Interesting. ‚Interesting, indeed,‛ she said as she closed the folder. I jumped a bit, wondering if I had commented out loud. In retrospect, I decided I hadn’t. ‚I find your suggestions fascinating. Do you really think the Club could raise enough money to go to Greece at the end of the year?‛ I nodded. ‚It’s very possible. I have connections with the University of Victoria’s archeology department, and the dean there tells me they are planning a field trip in late July. With a little luck, we can arrange a few extra seats for some promising students.‛ Ms. Meyers smiled now, her eyes sparkling. ‚That would be wonderful. It’s been a long time since I’ve been to Greece.‛ My jaw dropped. ‚You’ve been to Greece?‛ I asked in wonder. ‚Oh yes,‛ she said. Her smile suddenly vanished, eyes going distant. ‚It was a very long time ago, another age, it seems.‛ Her expression became sad, and I wondered what I had said. ‚I lived my youth in that land among the peasants.‛ She closed her eyes, leaning back in her chair. ‚The morning’s sun upon the Acropolis. The warm zephyrs off the Aegean in the afternoon. The golden sunsets setting over the empire of Rome, out of sight and far to the west. Life was so full then.‛ Her eyelids drooped tiredly, staring at the desk top. I was rendered speechless as I pictured in my mind the wonders of Greece that had captured my imagination, even as a child. Greece as it must have been in its days of glory: the unstoppable trireme warships rowing off to battle on the change of tides; the Academy of philosophers gathering in the squares and groves to discuss the laws of the universe; the temple of Athena on the summit of the Acropolis. And the city itself, Athens, named in honor of its goddess of wisdom and war. The marketplaces near the docks, the taverns and shelters spilling out with boisterous humor and music. The women carrying amphorae filled with beverage upon their heads, the men with skins ranging in color from darkest ebon to lightest saffron. ‚Mr. Crenshaw?‛ Huh?
‚I lost you for a moment,‛ said Ms. Meyers, her head leaning in amusement. She sat back in her chair, rubbing her right arm again. ‚Sorry,‛ I said. ‚I was woolgathering. I’ve always wanted to go to the Mediterranean, for as long as I can remember. I never managed to get around to it, though.‛ I glanced at my watch, then with shock looked again. I looked at the clock to reaffirm. Six-thirty? Where did the time go? ‚I gotta go!‛ I said, getting up quickly. ‚A date?‛ she asked. ‚In a manner of speaking,‛ I said as I ran to the door. ‚An old friend’s in town, and I have to see him before he leaves.‛ Ms. Meyers stood and gathered her briefcase and my folder. ‚I have to go, too. Perhaps we can smooth out the details soon.‛ I stopped at the door and pulled out a pen and paper. Scribbling madly, I wrote down my name and number. ‚Here’s my number,‛ I said as I passed it to her. ‚If you want to reach me, I’m usually at home.‛ ‚How sad for you,‛ she said, stuffing the note in her pocket. I pulled open the door and skidded into the hallway. ‚Thanks for letting me see you,‛ I said as I scrambled for the far doors. ‚Mr. Crenshaw, please don’t run in the school,‛ her lilting voice sang behind me. ***** I’m fascinated by the sun. There is something magnetically attractive about our fiery orb, burning hydrogen a hundred-fifty billion miles away, sending its energy across the vast emptiness, to bask us with its life-giving light and warmth. Not to mention giving us great sunsets. Time stood still as I watched the after-glow of the setting sun, ignoring the passersby who seemed intent on being wherever it was they were heading. I watched the last rays hit the waters of Nanaimo harbor and I sighed to myself. The darkness slowly crept across the city, and I shook myself awake. I pushed off the wrought iron railing of the sea walk and continued on my way. Hans must be worried by now, and I felt bad at the thought. Hans Gruber was my godfather. When I was very young, my father died in a car accident, leaving my mother a single parent. Hans took care of me while my mother worked. He was the only father I knew, and I loved him dearly. When my mother died a few years later of cancer, Hans and his wife Elsa adopted me. Both of them spoiled me rotten, but dealt out punishment when I deserved it. It must have been hell for them, being a middle-aged couple when I was a teenager. The old German was a leathery relic of a war fought long ago, in the years when it seemed his homeland’s fascist leader would rule the world. Often I had seen Hans pause when someone said something, and I saw the haunted look in his eyes, remembering
something horrible which he could never forget. I had never asked him what affected him so, for I respected the old man’s privacy. But Elsa had told me before she passed away that Hans had been a young soldier in the final defense of Berlin, at the end of the war. He had been witness to horrors those last days. Even as the final blow had dropped on the Reich, he had somehow made his way out of the country with his wife and baby girl, finding passage to the States. Soon afterwards Hans moved to Canada to start a business of his own. He met me at the bottom of the sea walk, an old weathered briar pipe in one hand, the other tucked deep in his jacket pocket. ‚Well, my son,‛ he said, his old eyes twinkling. ‚Did the sun set once again?‛ I smiled back at him, watching the aromatic smoke float around his gray head. The man was in his late seventies, but his frame was still strong, his voice mellow. Despite the fact that he’d lived in Canada for years, his English retained a strong German accent. But his use of English was immaculate. Hans would never butcher the language like I would. ‚Yeah,‛ I answered. ‚One day it won’t, and I’ll be really ticked off.‛ His laughter shook the rust off the railing. ‚I don’t think you have to worry about that for a long while. Come, let us go. The lager awaits.‛ ‚Sorry I’m late,‛ I said. ‚I had some business to discuss with another teacher.‛ The old man slapped my shoulder and led me from the sea walk. ‚Not a frauline, perhaps?‛ he teased. I smiled wryly, and he slapped me again playfully. ‚Where to tonight, Hans?‛ I asked, taking a deep breath of salty air. ‚The Drachen Haus, of course,‛ he murmured past the pipe. ‚I miss the place, and I long for the taste of my old country.‛ I thought about his suggestion. Hans used to own the Drachen Haus, back when I was a child. It was a pub done in the tradition of an old German tavern. Every inch of its woodwork was carved by the hands of old Black Forest craftsmen in a style unique to themselves. ‚Good choice,‛ I thought out loud. ‚A dark beer would go down great.‛ We walked on for a few blocks, my eyes taking in the evening sights. ‚I have a second reason to go there, Alex.‛ The old man tapped out his pipe and put it in his coat pocket. ‚A woman I would like you to meet.‛ I walked along in silence. Was Hans setting me up again? I loved the old man dearly, but his taste in woman tended towards the Aryan type. Sure - blonde hair, blue eyes - I could live with that. Unfortunately, the grey-haired cupid couldn’t match personalities that well. Usually by the second date the woman and I usually agreed to never see each other for as long as we both shall live. ‚What’s this woman like?‛ I asked, although I already felt my stomach sinking. His eyes became distant, and we walked silently for awhile. He shook himself out of reverie. ‚She is like no one I’d ever met. When we arrived in Vancouver from Germany, she was the one that offered my Elsa a job. She used to come by every week when you were very young, then for some reason she came no more. Do you remember our
Sunday dinner guest from long ago?‛ He stayed silent for a few beats. I seemed to recall something vague about a tall grey haired woman, but that was a long ago, so no details impressed themselves in my mind. Hans continued. ‚Recently she called me in Vancouver, and we set a time and place to meet. It has been many years since I have seen her.‛ I was suddenly aware that Hans wasn’t match-making this time, and I breathed a sigh of relief. The bachelor’s life was lonely, but it was mine. I found women interesting - don’t mistake me - but none of them seemed the right one for me. I was interested to meet this woman from my boyhood days. I seem to remember she had been kindly, and even gave me candies on occasion, I think. ‚So she will be at the Drachen Haus tonight, then?‛ I asked, brushing Hans’ pipe ash from my sleeve. The German nodded. I wondered if he had finally decided to meet this old friend coworker of his wife, and maybe hook up with her. It’d been years since Elsa had passed on, and I knew he was probably feeling lonely. Maybe I should leave early in the evening with some excuse. He probably wanted me along tonight just to relieve his tension (guilt?) at being alone with a woman other than Elsa. I’d spend just enough time there to have a couple steins of dark beer and dinner, break the ice, then duck out. The old cuckoo clock in the Drachen Haus heralded eight o’clock as we entered the tavern. Thick pipe smoke and the soft sounds of accordions drifted around the room. Many people from the old country sat in the booths and at tables, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere. Every now and then I caught a couple words spoken in German, and I mentally thanked Hans for his lessons in his mother tongue. ‚Hans,‛ waved the barkeep at my foster father, a wide smile on his face. The man started speaking rapidly in German, and I only caught a portion of what he said. Whatever it was, Hans answered with a mild retort, and walked over to his favorite booth with me trailing behind. I waved at Gunther, who smiled back from behind the hand-carved bar. A good man, he had purchased the Drachen from Hans twenty years ago, when he had been the bartender. Hans had set a fair price for her, and gave Gunther a long time to pay it off. I could not think of a time when Gunther would not have owned the place. It just fit him so naturally. After his first empty mug had been set aside, Hans looked me in the eye. ‚So when are you going to find a young lady for yourself, Alex?‛ The subject of women was obviously on his mind. I shrugged with a smile, and didn’t bother to repeat my reasons. We knew each other well enough to know there were certain things that we didn’t discuss. I was surprised he had brought it up. ‚Damned if I know,‛ I muttered into my half full stein. ‚You sound like Elsa,‛ I said, a comment calculated to make him stop his line of questioning. ‚Your godmother was right, bless her soul,‛ he said, sticking to the point. ‚You are young, strong and fit. You have a steady, well paying trade. A youth like yourself should have someone to share it with. You will never find the woman you are looking for unless you start searching.‛
I frowned. Obviously this would go on until his guest arrived. Once Hans was latched onto something, he would doggedly pursue it until he drove his point home, or was hoarse. I was determined to steer away from this subject. ‚So when’s this woman of yours showing up?‛ I asked. Surprisingly, this worked. The old man stopped in mid-thought and looked at the clock. ‚Any time,‛ he said, his voice low. ‚You seem nervous, Hans.‛ I couldn’t help prodding him. He was so cute when he was flustered. The German merely reached into his coat pocket and brought forth his pipe. ‚There is a story in that woman,‛ he said, eyes veiled, voice low. He rummaged through his coat and pulled out his pipe weed. ‚I may tell you the tale someday, Alex. It involves your namesake, my best friend during my youth.‛ Despite myself, I was starting to become interested. Who was this woman, who made the irrepressible Hans so contemplative? And my namesake? This was the first time I’d heard mention of this. He had just lit his pipe when the door to the pub opened. His eyes lifted to regard the person who entered, and what I saw on his face disturbed me. I saw his lips curl into a smile, then a shadow pass across his face, followed by a thoughtful gaze. He raised a hand in greeting and gave a low whistle. I had my back to the door, and thought it polite to not crane my head to look at his guest. I would wait for his introduction. The sound of high heels approached the table. I wondered at that, but kept my eyes lowered to my beer. ‚Frauline,‛ Hans stood, his pipe left at the table. ‚It has been a long time.‛ ‚Hello Hans,‛ a voice murmured behind me. I could detect the smell of a familiar delicate perfume. ‚You’re beautiful, as always,‛ said the old gentlemen. ‚Please, have a seat.‛ He motioned to the bench seat beside me, and I quickly moved over to make room. The woman sat beside me. ‚May I present my godson, Alex.‛ Hans winked at me, and I turned to take her hand. ‚How do you do?‛ she started, her hand reaching out. At that moment, several things happened. ONE: I noticed her for the first time. Alex’s expectation: An elderly lady, perhaps in her seventies. Frumpy, but nice. Glasses, crow’s feet around the eyes, pleasant and open disposition, well-worn wool clothes, and gray hair. Alex’s realization: Well, the gray hair was almost right. The woman sitting beside me was not in her seventies. I placed her age around thirtytwo. Her clear gold eyes sparkled in the low light of the bar, seeming to have a life of
their own. Her neat dark brown suit jacket and skirt were a stark contrast to her beautiful shoulder length silver hair, which now flowed free around her tanned neck and over her shoulders. Her high arched brows and delicate lips framed her face, her nose perfectly set between those intense eyes. TWO: Her hand touched mine, and I felt something like an electric shock travel up my arm. THREE: The smile on her face faded slowly, and a pensive look came to her eyes. I cleared my throat. ‚Hello. Glad to meet you.‛ Charlotte?! ‚The feeling is mutual,‛ she said. Looking back at Hans, she smiled. ‚Well, this is a surprise. I was happy to hear from you, old friend.‛ Her lightly accented voice was filled with warmth. She looked down at her right hand, then glanced up at me. I realized after a moment that I still held her hand. I diplomatically released myself, mentally groaning. What followed was an evening that I will never forget. Sitting beside this beautiful woman, I felt alive for the first time in a long time. Sometimes a bar patron’s eyes would fall on Hans’ lovely guest, and I felt a childish pride sitting beside her. Charlotte and Hans leapt off into talk of Europe and backwater countries, and I was dumbfounded by the voluminous knowledge she had. He would start talking about a small bar in Hamburg that served the best schnitzel he had ever eaten and she would name the bar, its owner and its address. The remarkable part of the evening was I barely said a word. I just listened, fascinated by their talk. Up until now I disliked immensely people who talked too much. But that night I hung on every word they said. It was very late in the evening when Charlotte rose from the table. ‚Hans,‛ she said. ‚It has been good seeing you, but I must go.‛ Her eyes darkened with sadness. The German smiled at her and sighed. He rose to his feet and took her hand. ‚Charlotte, you never visit me. You know where I live in Vancouver. Visit more often. It does this old heart good.‛ The lady held his hand for a while, then turned to me. ‚Alex, I’m afraid we didn’t let you say much tonight.‛ Her eyes twinkled with humor. ‚I hope we didn’t bore you to death?‛ I was once again at a loss for words. ‚How long are you in town, my dear?‛ said Hans, breaking the silence. Charlotte turned to him. ‚I was offered a position here that I was going to turn down, but I was talked into staying.‛ Her hand drifted to her right arm. ‚I think I may remain here for a good while yet.‛ Hans narrowed his eyes, glancing at the woman.
‚Have you heard news?‛ he asked. Charlotte froze. Her voice seemed almost a whisper as she replied. ‚An Old Friend told me something’s in the air, Hans. If anything happens, I’ll be in touch.‛ The old man’s eyes narrowed. He nodded, drawing on his pipe. ‚All in the fullness of time, frauline.‛ The woman forced a smile, and looked at me. My heart skipped. ‚Perhaps we will see each other again soon, Alex,‛ she said, her eyes twinkling. I smiled back. ‚I have a feeling we will. Goodbye, Charlotte.‛ She left soon after with every eye in the place upon her, and Hans and I resumed our booth seats for a final stein of beer. The old German’s eyes were locked on me the entire time, and I started to fidget. Finally I met his stare. ‚Well, what do you think?‛ he said, his pipe lit once more and in its customary position hanging from the side of his mouth. ‚Hans,‛ I started, at a loss for words. The old man nodded, drawing a puff of smoke. ‚As I thought when I first met her, Alex.‛ He sat back in his seat, mug in one hand, pipe in the other. ‚She has a powerful presence. One cannot help but be awed.‛ ‚Well, hopefully I’ll get over that, Hans.‛ I scooped a pretzel from the bowl. ‚I work with her.‛ Hans dropped his pipe to the table, a few loose embers scattering on its surface. He gingerly pushed the embers into the ash tray and checked his pipe to see if it was still lit. ‚You work with her?‛ he repeated, watching me for my answer. ‚Yes,‛ I said, puzzled at his solemn expression. ‚She started work at the high school on Tuesday. From what I can gather, she had good references from all over the place. She’s the teacher I was talking to this afternoon.‛ ‚Coincidence...‛ His eyes gazed into the distance. ‚Oh, yes, I suppose her references would be good.‛ He puffed hard for a few moments, lighting the booth with the glow of his pipe. ‚Does she teach Chemistry?‛ I shook my head. ‚Biology?‛ Again, negative. ‚Physics? Mathematics?‛ Two more denials. ‚OK, boy, I give up,‛ he said intrigued. ‚What did she decide to teach?‛ ‚French?‛ I realize I made it sound almost like a question. The old man coughed, scattering more embers from his pipe. His red eyes squinted, I thought he was in pain. ‚Hans? Are you alright?‛ I leaned over the table concerned.
At this point Hans started bellowing with laughter. For a full minute I could get nothing from him but guffaws and snickers. Finally he snorted one last time, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. ‚What’s so damned funny?‛ I asked, angry at this one-sided punch line. ‚Alex, my youngster. Did you not listen to my stories?‛ He put down his pipe, pushing it safely out of the way. ‚I told you, Elsa used to work with Charlotte, and every Sunday she’d come over for dinner.‛ ‚Yes. Well?‛ He gently slapped me upside the head. ‚Where did Elsa work?‛ I groaned. The MacMaster’s Institute of Technologies. ‚Charlotte was the head of the Department of Natural Sciences the entire time.‛ I shook my head, negative, suddenly realizing this couldn’t be the same woman he had talked about. ‚There’s no way Hans! She would have to have held the position since she was...‛ I did the math in my head. ‚Impossible. She should be in her sixties.‛ He sat back. ‚She’s older than she looks.‛ He rubbed the back of his neck. ‚Her story is not mine to tell, however. Well, my young friend, these old bones are getting tired. It’s probably time I called it a night.‛ Our Friday night dinner and drink came to an end, and I walked the old gentleman to his hotel. As I watched him climb the stairs to the entrance, Hans turned around and fished something out of his pocket. ‚I’m leaving tomorrow, Alex. I want you to have these.‛ He tossed something that jingled to me. I caught the keys he had given me and realized he was letting me have access to his yacht, Brunhild, moored in the harbor. ‚I can’t accept these,‛ I said, although I was hoping he’d insist. He did. ‚Sunsets are beautiful from the ocean, son. Do me a favor and find a woman who enjoys them as much as you do,‛ he grumbled, entering the building. Wow. This was turning into an incredible evening. Wearily I returned home, thinking of mysterious silver-haired ageless women and ocean voyages.
CHAPTER 5 - HOUNDED In the nourishing rays of a beautiful day, The mind’s eye is veiled by the glorious light. But our memories will wait, ‘til the sun goes away,
To reveal their sad selves in the loneness of night. June 24, 1630. I stood outside the squat, ugly building and shuddered. In another city, in another time, it could have been a barracks for military corps men, or a dormitory for young men attending the university. The high windows on both floors allowed no glimpses into the interior of the building. Passersby seemed to avert their gaze from the white house, as large as a well-to-do stable on some lord’s estate. There I stood, looping the top shiny gold buttons of my cavalry jacket, feeling a wave of cold run down my spine. I remained rooted, staring at the building in the courthouse region of Bamberg. The leaves blew past, signaling a shift in wind from the courthouses. A scent repulsively familiar carried on the breeze, and I covered my nose and mouth with my scented handkerchief. I’d fought enough in the wars with neighboring countries to recognize the smell of burned flesh and hair. I was glad Alexander was stabled well away from the stench, else he would be rolling his eyes and fidgeting. He too had traveled the road of war with me, bearing me closely through horror-filled landscapes. Gathering my determination, I walked with crisp military precision to the entrance of the building. Bright red letters proclaimed over the doorway, ‘Bamberg Witch Prison.’ I averted my gaze, twisting the handle and entering the dim interior. In my pocket, I carried an imperial writ certifying me as an observer of the royal court in Regensburg. If rumors and witnesses were to be held truthful, parting from this document might severely restrict my movements around Bamberg, and might even endanger my life. In another pocket was tucked away a seal from the Emperor proclaiming my promotion to Inspector General. This I was determined to keep in reserve, relying on the first writ to waylay suspicion as to my presence. The second, more official piece, would be used only if dire circumstances warranted the full authority of the Holy Roman Emperor himself to be instituted. Being a military man, I knew that it was easier to slip through camps and observe if one didn’t announce his authority, than it was for an Inspector General and his procession. Inside the building, the scent of burning incense dried my throat immediately, making me cough into my handkerchief. I peered through the gloom, looking for the orderly behind the carved wooden demi-wall. Apparently he had heard my cough, and a darkhaired man with narrowed eyes peered over and down at me. ‚Your business?‛ he rasped. ‚Official,‛ I stated, passing my first imperial writ up onto his desk. He glanced at me, reading the briefing, followed by a close inspection of the stamp of the College of Lawyers of the Holy Roman Emperor’s court, Regensburg. I smoothed
down my mustachio and beard, glancing into the darkness of the hall with its many shut doors. ‚You’ve got us at a good time,‛ he said. ‚The inquisitor has taken lunch, and the lawyer and lieutenant are taking the opportunity to get a breath of fresh air. The accused are at their quietest now.‛ I received back my letter, tucking it into my pocket. ‚There are regulations you must follow as an observer,‛ he added, drawing my gaze back to him. ‚You must not endeavor to speak to, or touch the accused. You may not entertain sympathetic notions towards them. Remember, they are all accused of witchcraft and defiling God and his holy works.‛ I nodded my understanding, my military face unreadable. ‚You must not question the means by which information is attained, especially in front of the accused. You must always be accompanied by an inquisitor when in the presence of an accused.‛ From somewhere, perhaps the bowels of Hell itself, the wail of a tormented soul rose. I didn’t bother nodding this time. Although my expression remained blank, a bile rose in my stomach. To my disgust, the man continued without pause. I recognized the signs of a man who had heard the tormented for years, and dismissed it without a thought. He probably wasn’t haunted by evil dreams either, for which I envied him. A lifetime of war torn images would color my resting hours to my dying day. ‚Last, you must relinquish your weapons when in the presence of the accused.‛ I raised my eyebrow, one hand still brushing my beard, my other dropping to my saber. ‚We shall see, orderly,‛ I intoned in a voice which suggested dire circumstances to anyone who decided to remove my sword from its sheath without my leave. Being nothing but a city official (and noting the sad state of Bamberg’s cavalry unit) I guessed this bureaucrat had no idea of the significance of a saber to an officer of the horse. Besides the fact that it denoted a certain rank and honor upon its owner, it was usually bestowed upon its recipient by a higher ranking, esteemed personage. In my case, the gold and platinum filigreed basket which my hand rested upon, and the fine work of steel attached to it, had been presented to me in the Imperial Roman court itself, by the Emperor Ferdinand II. Perceiving a wooden bench across from the high desk of the clerk, I walked stiffly over and sat down, waiting on the personages who would be my escort through this house of horrors. I pondered. I had read various statements written by refugees of the Bamberg witch trials. These had made their way into my possession starting two years ago. I’d read and re-read their contents, cross referencing the statements with reliable sources. Then had come a letter written by a Johannes Junius, apparently drafted while in the custody of the ‚witch house‛. It had been smuggled out of the house by a bribed guard, and given to Junius’ daughter, days before the man’s execution for witchcraft. As I read it, my loathing had risen. I had to force myself to remain still, against a certain urgent need to turn my
battalion around and raze the city of Bamberg, and those responsible for such abominable acts. I didn’t have long to wait before the sounds of merry laughter approached the door of the building, momentarily drowning the low moans from the recesses of the house. The door was flung open, blinding me with the brilliance of early afternoon. ‚And then she spit at me!‛ laughed one of the three men who entered. The smell of incense fought against the odor of goose grease and ale which wafted from the threesome. ‚I think I’ll enjoy talking to her,‛ said another of the three, his voice low and rough. This man had sleeves rolled up, thews massive from hard labor. His eyes gleamed in the lamplight from the clerk’s desk. I immediately took a dislike to him. The third man remained quiet, staring straight at me. His piercing gaze felt like it was boring right through my flesh. He was dressed in the robes of an ecclesiastic lawyer. Whereas I had disliked the second man, the third man raised the hackles on the back of my neck. I felt my hand curl tighter around my saber’s hilt, feeling its reassuring presence. ‚Welcome,‛ he stated without welcome. I stood and gave a crisp bow to him, acknowledging his companions with a nod of my head. His first companion was a genuine lieutenant, as was attested when his eyes traveled to my epaulets, and he produced a first-rate heel click and salute. I nodded again, putting him at ease. ‚Your business?‛ asked the lawyer without preliminaries. ‚Observer to the Imperial College of Lawyers,‛ I stated, briefly and to the point. The man acknowledged with a cold smile and tilt of his head. I couldn’t read his expression as he walked past me down the hall. The lieutenant quickly approached me and took my hat. ‚Sir, you’ve heard the building rules?‛ I stared at him, a withering glance that worked efficiently in the army when a superior officer addressed a low ranker. He nodded quickly, dropping his eyes. ‚Follow me, Colonel.‛ He proceeded after the lawyer and the burly man, leaving me to follow at my own pace. He had the good grace to not ask for my cavalry saber. ‚A patrol north of town found her wandering the path toward town,‛ explained the burly man to the lawyer. ‚She was alone, and carried no belongings other than her clothing and a coin purse half full... confiscated of course, due to her suspicious nature.‛ The lawyer nodded as the burly man, who could only be the ‘inquisitor’, opened a door at the far end of the hall. Stairs descended, as I feared, into the bowels of the building. Our footsteps on the stairs aroused some of the doomed, starting a new pitiful wailing in a mockery of a choir.
‚She didn’t resist arrest. She possesses characteristics which immediately suggested a demonic origin to the captain of the patrol.‛ ‚Such as...?‛ prompted the lawyer from below me in the darkness. ‚Grey hair, although she can’t be a day over twenty and three years. Flawless skin, outlandish clothes. A piercing gaze that sees into the soul.‛ He was quiet for awhile as we descended. ‚She’s beautiful, but it’s a cold beauty... frightening.‛ The quartette reached the bottom of the stairs. The ghastly sounds I heard could barely be conceived to come from human throats. Grunts, groans, whines... pleading, demanding, holding conversations with the unseen... I was reminded of a field hospital where men had gone into delirium with infected wounds. ‚Has Annette Rousah admitted to any of her cohorts in her visits to the witches’ sabbath yet?‛ asked the lawyer, hands behind his back. The inquisitor shook his head, leading the way into a large room in the center of the basement, barred doors encircling its periphery. This room was a vision of horror, and my soul recoiled. Pulleys hung suspended from the ceiling, the ropes discolored with dried blood. The inquisitor brushed one aside as he drew off his shirt and took a stained butcher’s apron off a peg. Deep brown stains blotted its surface, along with other unidentifiable, less savory discolorations. My eyes traveled the numerous shelves, stocked like a smithy. There were tools I recognized, and implements I’d rather not witness in use. Stocks lay stacked against a corner. I only glanced at them for a moment, eyes traveling over the iron spiked cuffs meant to tear flesh. I noticed a smaller set of stocks which made my blood turn to ice... they could only fit a child of six or less. ‚Annette Rousah first then?‛ asked the inquisitor, as if discussing which sauce he wanted with his sausage. The lawyer nodded, standing near an iron bathtub filled with water. I noticed a vent built near it, and realized it was made to allow smoke to escape from the fire which could be built under the tub. Coarse sacks sat near the tub, some with holes that streamed lime onto the dirt floor. I recognized it immediately. When corpses piled up in the pits behind field hospitals, the attendants would toss liberal amounts of lime on the dead to reduce the black flies, and cover some of the stench. But they were careful not to get it on their hands or breathe it, since lime burnt human flesh. Barbaric. I looked around for a seat, and found a stool which wasn’t covered with filth. The lawyer remained standing, while the lieutenant hovered near me. ‚Sir, is this your first time watching...‛ ‚Torture?‛ I finished for him, my hands on my lap. He blushed. ‚Watching an inquisition, I was going to say.‛ I let my gaze fall on the thumbscrews on the table beside him, then locked my eyes on his meaningfully.
A squeal of terror, followed by pathetic pleading, and the man with the apron returned leading a manacled wretch, tossing her roughly to the floor. The ecclesiastic lawyer bent toward the creature on the floor, his cross and rosary almost touching the dirt floor. ‚State for the record your name, my child.‛ His voice was cold. I shivered again, feeling unmanned by the darkness of this man’s soul. The creature on the floor curled up in a ball, shivering with fear. Her fingernails were black, blood encrusting their edges. Her bare arms were covered in vicious welts and bruises. She must have sensed an unknown presence in the room, for her eyes lifted and sought out mine. I could only meet her gaze for a moment, before I had to look away from the madness that resided there. ‚Annette Rousah?‛ she asked, her voice croaking out the syllables. And so began the longest hour of my life. While I was revolted by the proceedings, I impressed everything that transpired to memory. At the end of the ‘questioning’, the pitiful husk of a human had admitted to several acts of heresy, as well as supplying names of people that had attended witches’ sabbaths with her. She was led back to her cell and the door was closed. I turned to the lawyer, who wore a self-satisfied smile. ‚Very persuasive questioning,‛ I said quietly, leaving emotion out of my voice. ‚How much do you consider truthful?‛ The lieutenant looked at me with surprise. ‚Why, all of it, of course,‛ said the lawyer. ‚There is a certain point in questioning where the witch is no longer able to conceal the truth, and must needs confess all.‛ He smiled at me, his eyes hooded. I shuddered. ‚I find the means of questioning are extreme enough to produce confession, but surely not all of it is considered the truth?‛ The lawyer’s smile stayed. ‚Remember, colonel... you are just an observer. Whether you approve of our methods or not is moot, no?‛ I almost drew out my second writ, the seal of the Emperor on my Inspector General rank, just to erase the smile off his face. Bedamned if I would let this farce continue while I lived. The inquisitor returned, a question on his face. ‚Bring the new woman out,‛ the lawyer intoned, sitting on the edge of the tub of water. The burly man nodded and went to fetch his next victim. All was quiet in the questioning chamber. Even the moans and wails from the cells died down, until it was quiet as a tomb. I started feeling uncomfortable now, but for some reason my fear and loathing started to recede. Instead, I felt... what could I call it... ‘anticipation’? ‚Touch me there again, and I rip your throat out.‛
I almost laughed, much to my surprise, considering the environment. The statement had been brief, to the point, and matter-of-fact. There was no fear in voice, and I felt the absolute promise in it. The inquisitor stepped out of the cell, leading the chain of a woman in manacles. She blinked momentarily in the bright light of the torture chamber, then stood to her full height. I gasped, unabashedly staring at her. She was a beauty. Her skin was the olive of a Mediterranean, perfect hair long and flowing silver. Her eyes were golden in the torch light, uninterested in her environment. Her white dress was unstained, her hair unmarred. Even her skin glowed healthy, despite the filth I suspected in the cells. I had the feeling I was in the presence of a being that had descended from heaven to deliver the word of God. She gave each man in the room a quick appraisal. Her eyes lingered on the priestly lawyer, and she frowned. I murmured the first thing that sprang to my mind. ‚Angel.‛ Her eyes snapped to me. I was struck dumb by her golden eyes. My mind reeled. Something pressed at my brain and heart, screaming for attention. My vision doubled, and I began to have a dizzy spell. I felt the table pressing against my back, and gladly let it take my weight. A strange expression crossed her face, quickly replaced with distaste as the lawyer regarded her, and spoke. ‚You seem to be a very self-confident woman,‛ he began, his malignant smile widening like a festering wound. ‚Don’t,‛ she stated simply, locking gazes with him. He actually seemed startled, backing off half a pace. The smile had dropped from his face. The inquisitor pulled on her chains, trying to force her to her knees. The woman shook her hands, and the iron manacles dropped to the dirt floor in smoking ruin. The large man’s jaw dropped. Suddenly the lawyer laughed heartily. For the first time, I saw mirth form a genuine smile on his face. His gaunt frame shook with laughter. ‚Well, well,‛ he said, his hands clasped behind his back, meeting the woman’s gold gaze with his own dark one. ‚I must admit, the last thing I expected was to meet another Hunter. Welcome, sister.‛ He bowed slightly. ‚What led you into my domain?‛ She stepped out of the puddle of molten metal that had been her leg chains. An ache began forming between my eyes. A blinding pain built up at the back of my head. ‚I hunt someone,‛ she said. ‚As could be expected,‛ he raised an eyebrow.
She pushed up her right sleeve and exposed an intricate metal armband. The lawyer stared blankly at the band. The color drained from his features. ‚You,‛ he stammered. He backed away, his feet encountering the bags of lime. Without grace, he lost balance and sat down on the floor. His expression faltered from fear to anger. The woman stood still, oblivious to all except the man on the dirt floor. If I had seen the burly man swinging a red hot poker at her head, I would have tried to shout a warning. As it was, I was gripping my head, trying to keep it from splitting apart. The poker almost touched her before it shattered into a thousand frozen shards of ice. The inquisitor screamed as his fingers were instantly frost burned. ‚Answer my question, or shall I force it from you?‛ She walked toward the lawyer casually. A whip tendril of dark energy lashed out from the prone man. It tried to seek the woman, but couldn’t seem to touch her. Instead, it found the next closest person, the inquisitor standing behind her. I watched in horror as the man went from a burly muscled giant to a withered husk in a moment. He dropped to the ground mummified. The lawyer seemed stronger, eyes radiating fire. Tendrils lashed from him again, seeking the cell doors of all the ‘accused’. Moans and pleas were instantly snuffed out, and the basement was a crypt. ‚You’re prolonging the inevitable,‛ she stated, a mere pace away from him. Suddenly the pain exploded through my brain, and out my eyes. Memories of my lifetime flew before my mind’s eye. I reeled as time shifted backwards to my youth, then beyond, and beyond that. I could barely understand the images that I saw, as my mind slowly accepted the fact that I wasn’t who I thought I was. ‚Gods save me!‛ I moaned in ancient Egyptian. The woman whirled from the lawyer, her mouth open with surprise. The man on the floor took the opportunity to lash out at the woman with all his might. She screamed as the energies landed full on her, her momentary shock enough for her to lower her defenses. I gritted my teeth, erecting a ward around her. The raging maelstrom of dark energy spun around her, probing for weaknesses. I saw the emaciation in her body from the split-second contact with the force, and shuddered. She had aged fifty years with that withering touch. ‚Finish it,‛ I said, gasping as what little energy I had siphoned to her defense. The woman flicked out a hand and a dark tendril snapped toward the wide-eyed lawyer. A scream of anguish tore his lips. Even as his features began to shrivel into that of a corpse, the woman’s skin returned to its glorious smoothness. The lawyer managed one last death rattle before he disintegrated into a pile of dust.
The woman stared at the ground, and then turned her head to me. For the first time I saw the ageless sorrow there, which had been there from the first time I’d seen her. Beloved? The question echoed through my dying mind, as I felt a painful ache touch my heart. Goodbye... NO!! She ran to me and cradled me in her arms, sobbing. ...my Silver Angel, I managed. The last thing I heard was a terrible howl rend the air. Hound! ***** My eyes snapped open, listening to the night. I lay perfectly still in bed, every muscle in my body tensed, tatters of a dream blowing away. My eyes swept over my feet to the bedroom door, then to the bathroom, and over to the mirrored closet doors. I heard the thunder of my heart trying to compete with my rasping breath. I knew something had happened, or would happen. I didn’t know what. I decided to try to relax, and glanced at my alarm clock. Three o’clock. Yawning, I finally dropped my feet over the side of the bed and turned on my lamp. Bleary-eyed, I got up and slipped on my moccasins. After a bathroom break, I walked into the kitchen and made myself an after midnight snack. Sitting down in my living room, I munched on my sandwich, staring down at the keys to Hans’ yacht Brunhild. My mind started working tiredly over the enigma that was Charlotte Meyers. How could she appear so young, when obviously she was so much older. I realized that I was starting to feel an attraction to her, which surprised me very much. I had only known her for four days (not including the Sunday dinners when I was a mere infant), but I felt a magnetic attraction to her, very much like my attraction to the setting sun. It may have sounded like a strange comparison, but it was a very real thing to me. Like a moth to flame, I guess one could say. But the age difference... what of that? I finished off the sandwich and looked out my living room window. How would she feel having someone young enough to be her son hanging off her? Confused. Humiliated. Embarrassed. But she only looked thirty years old! Go to bed, Alex, I thought, preparing to leave my easy chair. Time enough to think about it when you’re awake. I reached for the lamp switch. The phone rang. My heart skipped, and I stopped breathing. This was it: now I would find out what had awakened me earlier. I knew this without question. Ring. I sat back in my chair, reaching over for the phone. ‚Hello?‛ My jaw clenched.
‚Hello, is this Alex Crenshaw?‛ a professional male voice asked. Nobody had any business sounding that professional that early in the morning. ‚Yes.‛ My body was tensed. ‚Sorry to disturb you Mr. Crenshaw. This is the Nanaimo regional hospital. We’ve had a woman admitted tonight with no identification or information on her, except your phone number on a piece of paper in her pocket.‛ I was cold all of a sudden, goose bumps rising on my flesh. ‚Is she all right?‛ I managed to whisper through clenched teeth. ‚She’s unconscious right now. Mr. Crenshaw, would you mind very much if we...‛ ‚I’m on my way,‛ I said, dropping the receiver into its cradle. I ran to my bedroom and opened my closet, dragging on the first clothes I placed my hands on. Feet slid back into moccasins, and car keys were in hand. I glanced at the clock in time to see it switch to three thirty-three. In a matter of minutes I was parked at the hospital and sprinting into the emergency ward. A nurse looked up from her desk, eyed me over, and probably decided that since I didn’t have a broken bottle sticking out of my arm, I wasn’t a patient. ‚Can I help you sir?‛ she asked. ‚My name is Alex Crenshaw,‛ I said with urgency. ‚I received a phone call a few minutes ago about a young woman admitted tonight with my number in her pocket.‛ ‚Oh, you’re Mr. Crenshaw.‛ She looked at some notes. ‚She’s in ward 3B, just down the hall to the left. Dr. Stephensen is with her right now. Go ahead.‛ I thanked her and rushed to room 3B. Turning the knob, I looked in. A young doctor with premature gray hair was just pulling the privacy curtain shut as I entered. He turned around, and I noticed signs of blood on the gloves he wore. ‚Mr. Crenshaw?‛ he asked. He look at my moccasins and half tucked shirt and smiled. ‚I’m Dr. Stephensen. Would you like to see the patient?‛ I nodded, and he beckoned me to the curtain. Pulling it open a bit, he looked at me. ‚Do you recognize her?‛ Charlotte looked terrible. She lay atop the sheets in hospital issued pajamas. Her left arm was swathed in bloody bandages up to her shoulder. Her left leg was in a cast, right leg bound in more gauze. An ugly blue and yellow weal colored the left side of her face. I must have reeled. In a moment the doctor was there at my side, guiding me to a chair beside the bed. ‚Do you know her, Mr. Crenshaw?‛ he asked gently. ‚I work with her,‛ I said. ‚Her name is Charlotte Meyers. She’s a French teacher at the high school.‛ The doctor removed the chart from the foot of her bed and scribbled a note. ‚Do you know her address?‛ I shook my head. ‚Does she have any relatives here?‛ he asked, pen poised.
‚I don’t know,‛ I said, shaking my head. ‚I don’t think so. She mentioned she was new in town.‛ He finished his note-taking and returned the chart. ‚O.K. Alex, thank you. I’m sorry for disturbing you this time of night. She was really lucky to have had your name in her pocket, or she’d be just another Jane Doe.‛ ‚What happened to her?‛ I asked, looking at the bruise on her face. The doctor walked to the other side of the bed and looked down at her. ‚It looks like she was attacked by a large animal,‛ he said. ‚Both legs and her arm were torn badly, and her one leg was broken. She sustained a concussion, but appears to be all right in that respect; no brain damage, I mean. She’s unconscious, but her vital signs are strong.‛ I followed the bruise as it wound from behind her ear to above her eye. I had never seen anything so ugly. Perhaps because it contrasted so sharply to her silver hair and light brown skin. Five hours ago she had been drinking and talking with Hans and me in the Drachen Haus. ‚You can go home now, Alex. Come back in the morning if you like.‛ I numbly got to my feet and stumbled to the door. I didn’t get sleep that night. I stared at my bedroom ceiling for hours until my alarm clock told me it was eight o’clock. Dutifully I got up and showered and shaved, made breakfast and headed for the hospital with my favorite coffee mug filled to the brim. Without difficulty I was allowed entry to her room, and sat upon the chair beside her bed. All day I watched over her, wondering now and then what I was doing there. Her hair fell back over the pillow like a river, and I was mesmerized by the sun that played upon it. I examined her face and saw that the hardness of her features had disappeared, replaced with a lovely sad expression. Wordlessly I watched as the nurse came by every hour to check up on Charlotte. Finally in the evening I was told to go home, and, resigned, followed orders. However, I got no sleep that night. Sunday morning I was there, coffee mug in one hand, school papers in the other. Sitting beside her bed, I started marking the papers, glancing up every now and then to look for a change in her face. In the late afternoon the nurse finally pronounced that Charlotte was sleeping peacefully. At this point I started to relax, and sat back, filing my papers away to watch her sleep. *** April 30, 1945 The war raged through the streets of Berlin, two kilometers from our position.
I had spent the last of my ammunition hours ago against the forces sweeping in from the east, ineffectually. For every bullet I loosed into the darkness, a thousand Russian troops marched on the capital. We sat in trenches on the southern side of a bridge, what remained of the company of marines airlifted to the final defense of Berlin. A form sat next to me in the darkness, his curses barely heard over the sound of artillery and gunfire. I grinned in the darkness and leaned near him. ‚What are you bitching about now, Hans?‛ I laughed. The whites of eyes looked up at me. A flare of artillery lit up his face, and I saw the grin on it. He was holding his rifle, the breech open with mud oozing out of it. ‚Goddam thing wasn’t firing. Now I know why.‛ ‚Still have ammunition?‛ I asked. He nodded. I handed him my rifle. ‚This is not where I want to be,‛ he said, loading a round. I thought about Elsa and Gertrude, my sister and niece, and smiled. ‚I’m sure it isn’t,‛ I said grinning. ‚Where is Elsa now?‛ He edged up to the top of the trench and squeeze off his round at movement on the other side of the bridge. Ducking down, he reloaded. ‚They should be in Hamburg by now,‛ he said. ‚With any luck, the invaders will leave them be.‛ I nodded. ‚I’ve heard the westerners are more sympathetic to refugees than the easterners.‛ I didn’t mention his plans, to leave the battle and reunite with his family away from this hellish war. ‚It’s almost over for us here.‛ He cursed again, weapon jammed. He stopped struggling with it and threw it into the muddy trench. ‚Alek,‛ he began. He clasped my shoulder, and I smiled. ‚We’ve been blessed with a good life. We’ve been together for years, my friend. We grew up together in better times. Our families loved each other. We wandered the streets of Hamburg together as youths, noticed women for the first time together. Even dated some of the same girls.‛ I laughed. ‚I even fell in love with your sister, Alek, and married her. I miss her so. ‚Soon, one way or another, this will be done,‛ he stated gravely. His grip on my shoulder tightened and relaxed. ‚I cannot stay beyond tonight. If there’s any chance at all I may see my Elsa and Gertrude again, I must try.‛ He released my shoulder and started gathering his gear. I watched him for a moment, then began packing up my meager belongings. ‚I’m with you, Hans.‛ We slipped through the darkness, south and away from the bridge. Despite being a fortification, the bridge defenders were all concentrating their attention to the east,
toward the artillery positions of the enemy. It was surprisingly easy. We progressed a few minutes, before a horrible noise split the air. ‚My god!‛ I gasped, stumbling. ‚What in hell was that?‛ We both turned as one, looking back to the bridge. Looking through the shattered trees, we could barely see the framework of the bridge, back lighted by flares and artillery fire. Something massive moved there, across the wooden beams of the trestle. An indescribable terror turned my ice to blood. ‚Mother of God!‛ I breathed, rooted to the spot. Hans squinted, moving past me a couple paces. ‚Gunfire seems to have died from the other side,‛ he said, crouching near the ground for a better view. ‚Can’t tell why though.‛ I watched as the giant beast walked along the rails, lightly setting its clawed pads on the reinforced beams. Even from here, I could see the flaming eyes and fangs dripping acid onto the rails. ‚Can you not see it Hans?!‛ I exclaimed, mortified. I grabbed his shoulder and pointed at the bridge. He strained, head jutted forward. ‚Nothing,‛ he said. ‚Too damned dark to see anything.‛ I willed him to see it, the terror overwhelming me. ‚Holy great shit!‛ He exclaimed, his voice raising an octave. He grasped at his crucifix, hidden beneath his marine-issued shirt. ‚What in blazes is THAT?! It looks like a massive wolf or hound!‛ The last word sparked off something in my mind. I quickly spun him around. ‚We must flee!‛ I urgently shook him. Together, we turned away from the bridge and began to run. Behind us, another soul wrenching howl sundered the air, and gunfire ceased amongst our brethren in the beach head. Hound! Hound! my mind echoed with terror. We ran on for what seemed like hours, beyond fatigue, our abdomens stitched with pain from the exertion. All the while, the presence of death seemed to pursue us, gaining on us, spurring us onwards. We wound our way through deserted villages, avoiding guard posts and patrols set up by our countrymen. Even in our panicked state, we knew the Reich would not deal with deserters kindly. Finally, in the ruins of a farmhouse, we took a breather, collapsing against a bare stone wall. We couldn’t speak, but grasped each other. Another howl split the air, radiating anger and promise of death. I let my head drop between my knees. ‚We are done, Hans,‛ I gasped, squeezing his leg. ‚The creature is following us.‛ ‚What foul hell spawn is it?‛ he shuddered. ‚I have heard of no such beast, neither on our side or the others.‛
My mind wandered, revealing images from deep in memory. Perhaps it was my fatigue, but I had felt I’d seen such beasts before, somewhere. I struggled to remember, feeling resistance from my subconscious, almost as if my brain didn’t want me to recall. ‚I don’t know Hans,‛ I said with resignation. ‚All I know is we won’t escape it. We’re doomed.‛ He stood shakily against the wall and drew his trench knife. The light from burning buildings glittered upon its edge. ‚I have too much to live for.‛ He grit his teeth, glancing down at me with white eyes. ‚Stand with me. We shall send this hell beast back to where it came from.‛ I staggered up beside him, unsheathing my own blade. ‚I’m with you Hans,‛ I said gravely, my back to the stone wall. ‚Good luck, old friend,‛ he said, clasping my hand. Old Friend. My mind echoed his last two words, seeming to expand in my brain like the thrumming engine of a submarine through its hull. I dropped to one knee, weakened suddenly. A pressure built behind my eyes. ‚Alek! Are you alright?‛ Hans was concerned. I barely heard him. The echoes in my brain seemed to extend beyond my head, outwards into the flame stained darkness. Like sonar, I started to register the presences of people and things nearby. ‚Alek! Alek!‛ The words were lost to me. I felt the location of the beast, the Hound, a half kilometer to the north east. It steadily approached, feeling no need for haste. Its prey was near, and I could feel the hatred and hunger in its mind. Dismissing this, I continued my sweep. Something had been laying in wait in the back of my consciousness, registering a presence I was not capable enough, or aware enough, to understand. ‚Old friend,‛ I murmured out loud. My chest constricted as I felt my mind touch another. There was a momentarily feeling of confusion, followed by wariness. Old Friend. A split second of disbelieve, then a feeling of joy traveled back to me. I felt tears drop to the earth as I absorbed the emotions of this stranger, who even now had felt the peril we were in, and was winging his way to our defense. He was near, but still too far away. I inhaled, feeling pain lancing through my head. Hans helped me to my feet. ‚Tired,‛ I said, feeling the cold stone press against the back of my head, grounding me. ‚Stay with me Alek,‛ said my childhood friend, squeezing my shoulder. I concentrated on the pressure of his hand, letting it bring me back to the present. My mind kept reliving random images, specks of enlightenment in the orange stained darkness. Scenes of flowing mud, standing atop a building, looking out to sea. Knowing I was doomed, but must stand my ground.
The images focused for a moment, and I felt a strength burning in me, terrible strength. Hound. I felt my fear leave me, replaced with sympathy and loathing. Ah, gods. The torment that had driven this child of Guardian blood into a form of terror and death. My anger rose in me, and I paced away from the wall, looking to the north east through a collapsed wall, through the dark and flame toward the beast stalking me. For it was hunting me. My fatigue had dropped from me as a discarded coat. ‚We are in dire peril,‛ I told my friend. ‚Listen carefully Hans. Where there’s a Hound, there’s a Hunter soon after.‛ ‚What are you talking about Alek?‛ he said from his position at the wall, his voice quaking. I turned back to him, and his eyes widened in surprise. I chanced to see my reflection in a broken window, and unsurprised saw my hair had turned silver. The golden eyes sparkled with knowledge. Hans shook with terror, clasping his crucifix. I smiled, willing him into calm. ‚Hans, it’s alright my friend. I’m starting to reawaken. Soon, there will arrive a man who is looking for me. He is brown skinned, dark haired and has a hooked nose. He was, once upon a time, my dearest friend. He will help you.‛ I hesitated, longing to see Old Friend once again, but had already resolved myself into another action before it was too late. ‚Alek?‛ he whispered. I still smiled, although I must have seemed sad. ‚I’ll always be your friend Alek, Hans... but I must leave you now to deal with the death that approaches.‛ He protested vehemently, trying to grab hold of me. I shrugged him away. ‚Tell Old Friend< I miss him. Tell him Pompeii was my undoing, and if he searches there, he will find the ring that may unlock the circle of death and rebirth.‛ I stopped, a burning ache in my chest. ‚You speak nonsense!‛ my friend almost shouted. ‚And to you, I say this, and impress upon your memory so you won’t forget.‛ My mind felt a tugging, and I felt the webs of power beneath the soil, the lines of energy of the Earth itself. Through them, I felt the presence of the one I craved more than any other, far away beyond my reach. ‚Tell him to take you, Elsa and your daughter to my Beloved.‛ I paused, picturing her in my mind’s eye. ‚She is beautiful beyond compare, with hair of purest silver, eyes of sparkling gold, and fair as...‛ Words almost failed me as I choked, ‚an angel.‛ I stepped through the broken wall, turning to look at my brother-in-law. ‚Tell her what happened here. Tell her I will always remember her. Tell her that for me, Hans.‛ ‚Alek!‛
‚No longer, my friend. I am more. And now, I deal with this beast of death that pursues me. Stay, and wait for Old Friend.‛ I walked away from the farmhouse toward the stalking beast. As I went, I slipped into the darker powers that my love had bestowed on me when we were one. I siphoned the life force from the dying trees, extinguishing fires as I consumed their energies. As I went to my doom, I tapped the very essence of the earth, feeling the strands of power pulse within me. I was not fully awakened. My powers were already destroying me, once again. But good would come from it. And a creature that started its life in joy and freedom would have its shackles destroyed. And once again I would be reborn into the circle of life. Hans stood, watching his only friend walk into the darkness. Minutes passed before a horrible wailing rent the night. He felt the warmth leave his limbs as if it was being drawn from him. Crouching in the broken wall, he gazed north east, waiting. A shudder reverberated through the ground, followed by deepest silence. The sounds of gunfire ceased as soldiers listened in awe. A feeling of wellbeing spread across the area, making many of the men look around in wonder and amazement. Be they German, or invaders, all listened with their hearts at the feeling of joy spreading throughout their ranks. Something momentous had happened. A hand touched Hans’ shoulder, and he jumped. ‚I didn’t think it could be done,‛ the stranger said with amazement. ‚The Second Born of Guardian blood has been released.‛ He scratched his hooked nose, and Hans recognized him from Alek’s description. ‚Old Friend?‛ said Hans. The man appeared to be Arabic. He fixed Hans with his brilliant eyes. ‚I have a message for you,‛ said the German youth. ‚He misses you.‛ The man nodded, putting his arm around the youth’s shoulder. ‚He has picked a hard, long journey for himself.‛ Hans cleared his throat. ‚I have other words for you, from him.‛ The dark skinned man smiled, white teeth showing. ‚There is time enough for that... brother of my young friend.‛ Together, they watched the sun rise in the east. Reports spoke that on the last day of Hitler’s reign, as he resigned himself to his fate and committed suicide, a creature of myth had been sighted galloping joyfully across the plains south of Berlin, racing the rising sun, the light reflecting off its single horn. *****
The wisps of a dream vanished in a twinkling. Looking around, I realized I must have dozed off in the hospital. I woke to someone speaking. Shaking away the cobwebs, I opened my eyes and saw Charlotte, her head turned on the pillow to look at me. ‚Alex,‛ she repeated, her mouth barely moving. I propped my head up on my hand and met her gaze. ‚Where am I?‛ she asked, her eyes looking around. She groaned, propping herself up on her good right arm. ‚The hospital,‛ I said. ‚Be careful, all right? You were hurt pretty bad.‛ Looking down at her legs, she scowled again. ‚Damn.‛ She stared at the cast. ‚Damned inconvenient.‛ ‚What did this to you?‛ I wondered out loud, glancing at her legs. ‚Hound,‛ she said, her expression angry. ‚It was stalking me, and I wasn’t paying attention.‛ Glancing up, she saw my disturbed expression. ‚Don’t worry, it’s been dealt with.‛ For some reason, this didn’t reassure me. My concern for her returned. The fact that the dog may have been put down by a pound didn’t change the fact that it had inflicted serious wounds on her. ‚How are you feeling?‛ I asked. ‚Groggy,‛ she admitted. ‚What time is it?‛ I consulted my watch. ‚A little after 5 pm, Sunday.‛ She pursed her lips and lay back on the bed, closing her eyes. After a while she looked back at me. ‚Why are you here?‛ I explained that the doctor had found my name and number in her pocket, and she nodded. ‚Thank you for coming. But you didn’t have to stay.‛ I thought about that for a while. I barely knew her, after all. ‚Maybe I’m here because you’re a co-worker,‛ I thought about that. ‚Maybe because Hans thinks so much about you, or because I messed up so badly the first time we met.‛ I shrugged. ‚I wanted to make sure you’ll be alright. Besides, I still feel I owe you something.‛ She lay on the bed with her eyes closed, her breast rising and falling rhythmically. For minutes I sat there, wondering if she had fallen asleep. Then to my great surprise, I watched as a single tear crept down the side of her face, disappearing almost unnoticed into the river of her hair. ‚Have you ever lost a loved-one, Alex?‛ her voice asked sadly. I wondered where this had come from. Despite my confusion, I felt a lump grow in my throat. ‚My mother and father, when I was very young,‛ I said, my mouth dry.
‚I mean a beloved, of course,‛ she said, her head turning away from me. I shook my head, although of course she couldn’t see. ‚No,‛ I answered. ‚I never had a relationship with someone long enough to fall in love.‛ ‚Why not?‛ she asked. ‚It never seemed right. Something always stopped me before I began a relationship. I don’t know why.‛ ‚Maybe it is for the best, Alex. It is a terrible thing, to lose absolute love,‛ she said. After a long silence, she turned her head back to me. ‚You should go now.‛ I nodded, collecting my class papers. ‚I’ll call work and tell them you’ll be away for a few days,‛ I said. ‚Don’t worry about it,‛ she smiled. ‚I’ll be there.‛ ‚What?!‛ I looked meaningfully at her bandaged and casted leg and arm. ‚I’m a survivor, Alex. I heal fast. Please go home and rest. You are much too tired to spend any more time away from your bed.‛ Her gold eyes looked evenly into mine. ‚Go home.‛ I got up and stretched my sore muscles. ‚Alright. But get some rest yourself, okay?‛ She waved me away with her right arm, and a metal arm band glittered. ‚Farewell,‛ I said, winking. ‚Alex!‛ I turned as I drew the curtain, and saw the beautiful eyes gazing into mine. ‚Thanks again. Consider your debt repaid.‛ I bowed out. ***** I sat in the staff room the next morning, waiting for classes to start. Bob Brooks sat across from me buried in a pile of paperwork. ‚Damned clubs,‛ he said as he read through his notes. ‚All I can say is I’m glad I have a club I understand... this could be worse.‛ He grumbled for a while, shuffling through the papers. ‚Should have been worse, I guess... could have been archeology.‛ I snickered as I sipped the styrofoam flavored coffee. Bob glanced up, then stared at what I was drinking out of. ‚Well, Hell has officially frozen over!‛ he said, his eyes wide. ‚What happened to that Holy-of-Holies, your coffee mug?‛ I shrugged. ‚Must have left it somewhere,‛ I said. ‚It’ll turn up.‛ Bob stared at me, aghast. ‚Alex, I can imagine you forgetting your keys somewhere, maybe your clothes, or even your head, but not the Grail!‛ A few words of explanation. I barely remember where my coffee mug came from in the first place. I think it may have been a garage sale, or auction. Anyway, as I looked at the poor old dilapidated piece of
pottery that someone had taken a lot of effort to make, I fell in love. Right there I adopted it – or vice-versa – and we’d never been apart since. Until then. The door to the staff room opened and Charlotte squeezed herself inside. She wore a baggy navy jumpsuit today, probably to cover the cast on her left leg. Seeing me, she smiled and walked carefully over to me with an obvious limp. ‚How are you feeling?‛ I asked, concerned by the strain in her eyes. ‚You’re still looking pretty sore.‛ She broadened her grin, and drew her right hand forward. In it was gripped my ‘Holyof-Holies’. ‚The Grail!‛ exclaimed Bob, his eyes widening. Charlotte placed it on the table in front of me. ‚You left it beside my bed last night,‛ she said. ‚I cleaned it up for you.‛ ‚Thank you,‛ I said gravely, examining the fine shine. It had never looked so good. ‚No. Thank you,‛ she shook her head. ‚You gave your entire weekend to me. That means a lot to me.‛ She nodded her head at Bob and turned to leave. ‚Beside her bed?‛ Bob said, leaning clear over the table, his voice raised an octave. ‚The entire weekend?‛ I shrugged. ‚Dude, we gotta talk...‛ he began. At that moment, the first bell of the morning rang, summoning us to work. Bob gathered up his papers as I threw away the styrofoam cup and filled the Mug. ‚Oh no,‛ he snarled, giving me a fierce glance as he stuffed his briefcase. ‚You are not getting away that easy!‛ I slowly walked back to the table and collected my briefcase. ‚Not much to tell, Bob,‛ I said as I headed for the door. ‚Most of the time she was asleep. Catch you later.‛ Coffee had never tasted so good.
CHAPTER 6 – A PLANNED TRIP Destiny has the perfect poker-face; it never reveals its hand until it’s too late to change your bet. I stood on a high temple overlooking the great river, watching the swollen waters carrying the life-giving silt northwards. The currents and eddies hypnotized me, and I must have stood there for hours. Near sunset I sensed a presence behind me and I smiled. Turning, I saw Old Friend standing there, looking across the river to the drowned farmland. Sunny days, he thought, looking wistfully east towards the far mountains. It doesn’t seem right, somehow. The rains should be pouring down in warm moist blankets, the winds blowing
hard. This Egypt is a strange place. I miss the monsoons of my home. His eyes focused on me as he rubbed his hooked nose. Barbarian, I snorted. We stand together in the most powerful nation of the world, and you can only think of your homeland? He playfully messed my silver hair with a dark brown hand, and we both turned to look to the east, the sun throwing our shadows ahead of us over the edge of the temple. He must have sensed something in me. After a while he looked at me with his deep brown eyes and spoke out loud. ‚Young Friend, something is amiss. Why are you so withdrawn?‛ I closed my eyes and felt the tickling against my subconscious again. Opening my eyes, I looked at him. ‚I feel something strange inside, Old Friend.‛ We walked away from the temple edge. I stopped in the shade of a pillar. ‚Unease, mostly. At times, it is difficult to breath. My eyes unfocus, my heart beats fast, my hands are clammy and shake.‛ He stood silently beside me, still in the sun, hands clasped behind his back. ‚I have a feeling I’m being drawn somewhere. Something calls me.‛ I reached out and put my hand on his shoulder. ‚I feel I am not complete any more. I’m frightened. But I’m excited as well. What is wrong with me?‛ I pleaded with him. He remained silent. Turning, he stared into the disappearing sun. After a while, I too, had to watch the sun as it disappeared into the desert of the west. Night fell quickly then, and lights began to spring up in the city around us. He muttered to himself for a moment, then turned away from the west. Have you ever wondered why we are drawn to sunsets, young friend? I turned to examine his face, but he revealed no emotions. My theory, young friend, is that we are drawn to witness the coming of night, and the beginning of the guarded time. The time of the Hunters. He turned his head to look at me, and smiled. I think you are right, and you are being drawn to something. He grasped my hand firmly then, and we stood that way for a moment. Then a smile appeared on his wonderfully serene face. What is it? I thought, confused. What do you sense? He squeezed my hand. Can you not feel it? Your very soul is being called. I was confused, and drew back hastily. ‚What does it mean?‛ I asked, arms hanging limply. Few of us receive that call in our lives, my friend. I cannot express to you how happy I am for you. Damn it all, just tell me! I trembled.
Destiny calls you, young one. You and one other are fated for each other. He brushed a hand across his eyes. Seek her, young friend, for she is your life and soul. Together, you are one. *** I awoke to the sound of my alarm, a dream slipping elusively out of my mind. Yawning, I tumbled out of my bed and gazed into the mirror of my closet door. A trick of the dim light caught my blue eyes and made them turn gold for a moment. I ran my hand over the stubble on my chin and sighed, making for the bathroom. Stepping out of the shower, I toweled off and wiped the steam off the mirror. As I combed my hair I stopped and examined my reflection. For the first time I noticed my hair was speckled with silver grey. Great. Well, I shouldn’t be surprised. I wasn’t getting younger, after all. I shaved and put on my clothes, and glanced once more in the closet mirror. A haunted expression looked back at me. What are you looking at? I demanded of my reflection. A lonely fool, my image answered, its expression softening. Ah, what do you know? I thought angrily as I walked away. ‚So you and Ms. Meyers are heading the Archeology Club?‛ asked the secretary in the staff room that morning. It was now the last Friday in September, and the first meeting of the club was almost upon us. Between us Charlotte and I had hammered out a decent plan of events for the year ahead, including various field trips on the Island. And of course, the trip to Greece had been discussed. I had consulted with my friend at the University of Victoria, and he seemed responsive to the idea of taking a few extra bodies on the trip to Athens. ‚Mind you,‛ he said, ‚you must watch over them. The members of my team won’t have the time to be baby sitters.‛ I chuckled and reassured him they wouldn’t be in the way. Everything was turning out great. I came back to the present, nodding to the secretary. ‚I’m surprised how much she knows about ancient studies. She lived in Greece, you know.‛ Miss Jones shook her head. ‚Well, that explains that permanent tan of hers. It’s not fair to those of us who have to work for it.‛ She looked me up and down, and I stood uncertain for a moment. ‚You look like you’ve been getting a tan, yourself. Are you spending time at a fitness club?‛ I lifted my mug up, looking at the skin on the back of my hand. Was I darker? Yeah, right. ‚Unless you can get tanned from fluorescent lights, I don’t think so,‛ I smiled. I glanced at my watch. ‚Better get going. Don’t want to be late.‛ Bob Brooks walked past me to the coffee machine, briefcase in hand. ‚That’s another thing, Alex. I’ve noticed you’ve been on time for the last three weeks. What gives?‛
I paused for a second, thinking about that. Then, shrugging, I walked to the door. ‚Oh, and the color really suits you,‛ said Miss Jones as I was leaving. I turned to look at her, a question in my eyes. ‚The contact lenses, I mean.‛ ‚Uh, thanks,‛ I said absently, closing the door behind me. Contacts? I didn’t wear contacts. ***** ‚...So we agree then,‛ I said, closing my binder. Charlotte sat back in her chair with her hands behind her head, looking at the ceiling lights of my classroom. ‚Sounds good to me,‛ she said, stretching. I watched her as she worked the kinks out of her muscles, and couldn’t help staring. God, she was beautiful. I snapped out of it in time to look away when she focused her attention on me. ‚But I’m curious. Why did you pick Cathedral Grove as our first field trip? From what I’ve heard about it, it doesn’t seem like an appropriate stop for the Club.‛ I put my mug down on my desk and clasped my hands. ‚To tell you the truth, I’ve never walked through the grove myself,‛ I admitted. ‚But whenever I drive through it, I’m always stunned by the age and immensity of the trees. Touching those trees would be like touching a living artifact from the time of old Rome.‛ Cathedral Grove was part of an old growth forest owned by a large forestry company. It had been set aside by them as a park, and attracted thousands of tourists each year. The funny thing was the only main road in the area wound right through the heart of the grove. It was aptly named. As you drove or walked through it, the immensity and silence of the woods impacted, forcing you to feel you traveled through a gargantuan, holy place. She nodded. ‚I see. So you want to lay a foundation for the Club, give them perspective.‛ I met her gaze. ‚That, and it would give me an excuse to see it by foot for the first time.‛ She adjusted her cast, then looked down at it. ‚The cast is coming off tomorrow.‛ She knocked on it. ‚The doctor thinks I’m healed.‛ ‚Already?‛ I was surprised. ‚Like I said, I’m a fast healer.‛ Yes, but three weeks for a broken leg? ‚Taking the group to a place you haven’t been isn’t a good idea, Alex.‛ ‚I was thinking about that,‛ I said, aware of how stupid it would look to be a lost tour guide. ‚So I was going to head up there Saturday.‛ I stuffed the binder into my briefcase. ‚It’s supposed to be a nice day tomorrow, and I didn’t have anything else to do.‛
‚If you can wait until noon, I will join you,‛ she said. I looked at her with surprise, and she glanced away. ‚The cast is coming off tomorrow, and I need the exercise. Besides, I too would like to see this Cathedral Grove everyone talks about.‛ I felt my blood rushing, but forced myself to shrug nonchalantly. Briefcase in hand, I got to my feet. ‚Where would you like to meet?‛ She thought a bit. ‚How about my place at noon?‛ ‚Great. I’ll pack lunches.‛ I watched as she struggled to her feet, wrestling with the cast. She looked up at me when she had found her balance, and smiled. ‚I’ll be glad to get this device of torture off my leg.‛ I chuckled as I walked her down the hall. She glared at me, then broke into her own grin. ‚Evil man,‛ she grumbled. I led her to the parking lot, and watched as she shifted her leg into her car and closed the door. Beautiful lady, I thought as she brushed her silver hair to the side. She glanced at me inquiringly, and I walked over to her car as she rolled down the window. ‚Did you say something?‛ she asked. I shook my head. ‚Well, see you tomorrow, then,‛ she said as she drove away. I watched her go. After her car had reached the road and turned out of sight, I went for my own car. As I sat behind the wheel, I realized my heart was beating fast, and my hands were cold and sweaty. I hoped I wasn’t coming down with something. The morning dawned bright and clear. I danced around the kitchen at eight o’clock, preparing lunch for the two of us. By nine o’clock, I was sitting on my couch with the cooler beside me looking out my living room window. Time dragged then. What seemed like days later, I looked at my watch to see the time. Eleven o’clock. With a sigh, I got to my feet and lugged the cooler to my car. I drove aimlessly around Nanaimo for the better part of an hour, wasting time. It definitely beat the view from my living room. When noon drew near I stopped my meanderings and starting driving to Charlotte’s place. The hills of Departure Bay were covered in orange and red from Autumn’s paintbrush. The views of Nanaimo and the bay were fantastic from here, and I really envied Charlotte for them. As I drew nearer to where she lived, my heart accelerated, and my mouth dried. Once again, my hands sweated despite their chill.
As I pulled up, I saw her standing on the front patio. She waved, disappearing into her house. I took a moment to look at the structure, giving a low whistle. It was constructed in the manner of a Roman villa, single story. The columns supporting the roof over the patio were marble, carved beautifully in classic style. I stopped my car’s engine and got out, walking to the building. Fantastic, I thought, running my fingers over the carved edifice. ‚You like?‛ she asked as she came through the front door, backpack in hand. I beamed at her, and focused my attention back to the columns. After a moment realization dawned, and I withdrew my hand in awe. ‚This is authentic!‛ I said, stepping back. I looked at Charlotte sharply. She wore a benign smile. ‚How did you get two authentic Roman columns?‛ ‚Very good, Mr. Crenshaw,‛ she said as she locked her door. ‚Can you identify their period?‛ I looked closely at the column’s base and shaft. Peering up at the capital, I whistled. ‚Somewhere between 100 BC and 100 AD, I’d say. Since there’s little Greek influence in the design and mostly Etruscan, I’d have to say these were made somewhere in central western Italy.‛ I came out of my study to the sound of Charlotte clapping her hands. ‚Very good. These were made in 63 AD, shortly after the quake which struck Pompeii. During the rebuilding of Pompeii, the villa to which these belonged was constructed, and these were shipped by sea from Naples. Needless to say, in 79 AD the villa was destroyed by the great eruption, but these two columns survived almost intact.‛ I gazed at the nearest column, feeling its pockmarked surface. Fantastic. ‚How did you get them?‛ I wondered out loud. ‚I spent a long stretch of time in Pompeii,‛ came the answer. I heard the stress in her voice, and I turned to look at her. She had her back to me, looking at the other column. ‚Much too long.‛ A sad note in her voice. I crossed to her side. ‚But why bring the columns here?‛ I asked. ‚To remind me of what was lost in my past,‛ she said. Jaw set tightly, she shifted the pack on her shoulder and started to the car. I took a last look at the columns. For some reason they now made me uneasy, their ancient marble shafts pockmarked by the volcanic destruction that had swept Pompeii. My vision reeled for a moment, then cleared. Hastily I returned to my car in which Charlotte waited. I surprised myself with the next thought: She shouldn’t remind herself of her past in Pompeii. I could tell whatever had happened to her there had shaken her, and I resolved not to bring it up again. I gave her a sidelong glance as I pulled away from her driveway. She appeared to be more calm now. She caught the glance and returned it.
‚I’m glad you found my place. I forgot to give you my address.‛ I smiled and continued driving, finally pulling onto the highway to Port Alberni, and the Grove. And as we drove, the smile dropped as I realized I didn’t know her address.
CHAPTER 7 - CRESCENDO That which is broken asunder cannot be mended. But if brought together, it may form a different, more wonderful whole. We were both silent as I drove. Charlotte wore shorts and a t-shirt, as opposed to my outdoor gear. I supposed I should have warned her it was bound to be a bush trek, but... oh well. She had thought to bring along some coffee, which she offered and I thankfully drank. After a while, the silence got to me, and I spoke. ‚That is a beautiful band you are wearing,‛ I said, glancing at the intricate woven metal band she wore on her upper right arm. Charlotte looked down at it. ‚It is the most valued item I own,‛ she answered, touching it gently with her hand. ‚It was given me by my love. Its mate is lost.‛ ‚So, there is a Mr. Meyers?‛ I asked. God, what a stupid question. I was expecting her to ignore it. To my surprise she answered. ‚Once, long ago,‛ she said in a whisper. ‚I’m sorry,‛ I apologized. ‚That was a stupid thing to ask.‛ ‚No, it was not stupid, or unforeseen.‛ I drove quietly, kicking myself. Which is hard when you’re driving. ‚I lost him long ago, in Pompeii,‛ she continued. ‚He was defending me from our enemies. I escaped by hiding. He did not.‛ Now I understood some of the sadness in her. Her husband, killed. ‚He wasn’t killed,‛ she said, seeming to read my mind. ‚It was a long time ago.‛ She hesitated, then spoke defiantly. ‚But he is still alive.‛ We were approaching the Cathedral Grove pull-out on the road. I slowed down and pulled into the gravel parking lot and stopped the engine. Despite my trepidation, I was interested. ‚How do you know?‛ She got out of the car, reaching inside for her backpack. After I locked my door, I looked over the top of the car at her. She was facing me, her eyes hard. ‚I know.‛
***** Charlotte led us along the hiking trail, setting an excellent pace. I assumed she was still angry from my thoughtless comments. After fifteen minutes I called for a halt, desperate for rest. ‚Out of shape, Alex?‛ she cat-smiled at me. I sat hard on the needles under one of the forest giants, my head hanging. ‚You’re the one who’s supposed to be recovering!‛ I snarled at her. ‚Why can’t you at least pretend you’re tired?‛ Charlotte was too busy craning her neck to answer. The mammoth trees surrounded us, widely spaced so one could see far into the distance in the forest. She walked to a nearby giant and touched the bark, which held crevasses large enough to put her hand in. ‚They’re fantastic, Alex, aren’t they?‛ I smiled, touching the bark of the giant fir tree I sat against. ‚Beings alive since the birth of Christ, the eruption of Vesuvius. Probably the single oldest race in the world. They’ve seen it all.‛ She looked at me and smiled happily. ‚Oh, I am pleased I came here,‛ she said. ‚You don’t feel quite as lonely amongst them, do you? It gives you a sense of continuance. Of belonging.‛ ‚Let’s go on now. I’ve got my wind.‛ I got to my feet and found the short rest had done me good. The cooler strapped under my arm, I led the way. After a hard-pressed attempt to stay ahead of Charlotte, I finally gave way, and she led on with authority. By this time I was wheezing, and she agreed to stop for an afternoon brunch in a large clearing. The sun shone down through the dense canopy, lighting on the two of us as we ate. ‚So quiet here,‛ I said, looking around. ‚Serene. Like we’re the only people on Earth.‛ I took a sandwich from the cooler and walked with it, exploring the clearing. Charlotte sat gazing around her, munching on a carrot or something equally noisy. Halfway across the clearing I stumbled on rounded rocks, and realized that once a stream had run across here. I followed its course a bit, looking amongst the pebbles for interesting rocks. I wondered what had eventually altered the course of the stream. The crunch of dirt told me that Charlotte had started her own inspection of the area. The sound of a strangled cry brought me running to where Charlotte was standing. She faced a huge granite stone, at least fifteen feet tall. I pressed by her to look. The stone had been split roughly in two by some act of nature. It was quite impressive. She looked around intently now. I saw an odd expression in her eyes, almost as if she were looking for something in particular. She noticed the old stream bed now, and the lay of the land. Quickly she ran across the bed and stood at the edge of the clearing, staring off into the darkening woods. She stood there for a few seconds, then returned to where I stood. Without a word she started climbing the smooth face of the boulder while
I watched in amazement. When she reached the top, she rolled over and lay on the boulder, eyes to the sky. By this time I was backed up almost to the stream bed to watch her progress. What the hell was she trying to prove? The place, I thought I heard from the woman laying on the boulder high above me. I looked around. My vision doubled again, and my heartbeat skyrocketed. I felt my palms get sweaty and cold. Have I been here before? I wondered. It seemed familiar, yet so different. Maybe my mother had brought me here as a child, and I hadn’t realized it until now. My vision cleared again, and the glen seemed as unfamiliar as ever. Having nothing to do, I gathered Charlotte’s backpack and my cooler and brought them to the base of the boulder and waited. Time passed slowly. I examined nearby rocks and shrubs, gazed at the sky, and amused myself with a hundred other time killers. Eventually the sun passed beyond the tree tops to the west. It was getting dark. ‚Charlotte,‛ I called up. ‚We have to go.‛ No answer. Gritting my teeth, I studied the boulder again. It looked climbable, barely. Grabbing for hand holds, I started pulling myself up its face, much less gracefully than Charlotte an hour before. My arms were strained and breath hoarse when I reached up and found the top. I pulled myself over with a groan and lay beside the woman, staring up into the dark blue sky. Propping up on an elbow, I drew a breath to chew her out. And stopped. She lay racked with silent tears, her eyes tightly shut and body arched in pain. I got up and crawled to her, wondering if she had pulled a muscle, or reinjured her leg. ‚Charlotte?‛ I said urgently. ‚Where are you hurt. Can I help you?‛ She stopped breathing and opened her eyes, staring at the dark sky. Slowly, she focused on me and gave me a pitiful smile. ‚I thought you were him,‛ she said, closing her eyes again. Drawing a breath, she released it slowly. ‚I’ll be all right, Alex. Let me be for a few minutes.‛ I crawled away to the far edge of the boulder, my eyes still on her. I thought I knew now what was hurting her, and I cursed myself for suggesting we come to Cathedral Grove. Something about this place reminded her of the man she had lost. I wished with all my heart I could ease her pain, but I knew it was beyond my power. Minutes crawled by, slowly creeping into another hour. By this time the light was completely gone, and we were in pitch darkness. Charlotte hadn’t moved since we had spoke last. I stood now on the boulder, looking away over the edge. The hackles on my neck started rising. Trying to brush them down with a hand, I realized goose bumps had sprung up on my flesh. Crap. I was scared shitless!
I wasn’t afraid of heights, so that wasn’t it. I looked over at Charlotte’s still form and shook my head. No, she was acting strange, but she wasn’t the reason for my fear. Slowly I started turning a circle, my senses strained for whatever had pushed my panic button. An unpleasant smell came to me, and I momentarily gagged. It smelled like dead animal. That’s strange, I thought. Suddenly my head snapped around to look into the woods to the north. No wind tonight, but I could swear the scent was coming from there. I moved quickly to Charlotte and shook her. ‚We have to go,‛ I told her urgently. The smell was growing stronger. ‚Not yet,‛ she mumbled, rubbing the band on her arm and rolling over. By this time every hair on my body stood on end. I panicked. The smell from the north was stronger. ‚If you don’t come now, I’ll carry you,‛ I promised angrily. I was met by silence. I bent down to look at her, and after a moment realized she was asleep. Damn! I thought helplessly. Why would she fall asleep now? I picked her up gently and walked to the edge of the boulder. It was so dark by now that I couldn’t see the ground. I looked at Charlotte and was surprised to see her expression soft and gentle, as if she was having a pleasant dream. Gritting my teeth, I estimated how far it was to the ground. I could do it, I thought to myself, the panic in me reaching a crescendo. It probably isn’t as high as it looked on the way up. I felt like a staked out goat up there, waiting for the lion. Adrenalin pumped through my veins instead of blood. I hesitated, drew a deep breath, and stepped off. My vision doubled again. I felt the force of gravity as it tugged both me and my burden downwards. I cursed silently as I knew I had tricked myself into believing the stone wasn’t that tall. My mind was screaming at me, telling me that Charlotte and I were going to die. I hoped I wouldn’t break my legs. I blocked out this thought, willing myself to be strong when we landed. To my utter surprise, the landing knocked the wind out of me, but that was the extent of the damage. I glanced down at Charlotte to make sure she was all right, then began tracking through the woods in the direction I hoped the car was parked. She had not even stirred in her sleep. Behind me now, I began to imagine I heard the sound of a huge beast breaking through the underbrush in the distance. My mind reeled at the scent of dead animal, and I felt my feet pound the forest floor even faster. A quarter mile, I promised myself. No more.
The beast behind us must have reached the clearing. I heard snuffling sounds, amplified by my frightened senses. Then the most soul-rending sound ripped through the woods around us, and I stumbled. What the Hell was that?! my mind screamed. That, my young friend, is a Hound. And it is here for you. As its companion was the other night. I stopped then. My arms went limp, almost dropping the sleeping Charlotte to the ground. I turned around, looking for the source of the voice that I had heard. For some reason, I felt the hairs on my body lay back down and my goose flesh disappear. I knew this voice, but I didn’t know it. ‚Who are you?‛ I said, whispering. Take your lady home, the mellow voice said. I will take care of the beast. ‚I’ve heard your voice before,‛ I asked, feeling a tearing in my heart. ‚I know you, don’t I?‛ Longer than you can remember, my young friend. Go now. You are not safe here. Forces converge on this place. We’ll meet again soon. For now, forget about what happened here tonight. You are not yet ready. I cradled Charlotte, a flicker of memory racing through my mind as I held her close to me. As I walked back through the woods, I heard the sounds of a terrific skirmish back in the direction of the clearing. Wails of hatred and yelps of pain, and once I even felt the ground shudder. Then silence. The stench of carrion had vanished quickly, and I breathed normally again. Well, that was interesting. As I reached the car, I realized that for some reason I had been carrying Charlotte, who seemed to be asleep. Hmm, that’s odd, I thought. What am I doing carrying Charlotte? I don’t remember. Did she fall asleep on me? The last thing I could remember was climbing on top of the rock to make sure she was alright. Had she been crying? I forget, but I think so. I made a mental note to make our Club field trip brief, and during the morning. ***** The ride back through the dark countryside was quiet. Charlotte was sleeping deeply, her head against my shoulder and lips turned up in a smile. I glanced down every now and then to check on her. She was so beautiful like this. Why torment yourself, Alex? I berated myself. You know she isn’t interested in you. Her mind is with her lost husband. I gripped the wheel tighter and sighed. Charlotte sighed with me in her sleep. Her right hand came over and rested on my bare arm. Once again, like the time I shook her hand at the Drachen Haus with Hans, an electric shock coursed up my arm. I looked down at her again. My heart gave a pang of sorrow, and I concentrated on the road.
I pulled into her driveway and stopped the car, turning off the headlights. I felt terrible waking her from her peace, but I knew I had to. ‚Charlotte,‛ I spoke gently. ‚Charlotte, wake up! You’re home.‛ Her eyes tightened, lips parted, and I barely heard the word, whispered as a question: ‚Beloved?‛ I reached up to brush the hair from her face. Purest, silver hair. I felt myself leaning my head toward her, then jerked myself back. I felt my vision double again, but the experience was much stronger than I had felt yet. Hastily I disengaged myself from her and left the car, walking over to the passenger side. I opened the door and carefully picked up her up, carrying her to the house. Kicking aside the mat at the front door, I found the house key – very original place to hide it – and let us in. I navigated through the darkness and found her bedroom. Quickly I put her in bed and drew the comforter over her. My ears were ringing now, and I hurriedly turned away from her, heading for the door. Behind me, I heard the woman toss, and her pitiful cry: ‚But I will not recognize you, love!‛ The light of the moon came through her bedroom window and fell on her, her hair shining with a radiance of its own. I felt strange; both sad and tortured to see her there. The halo of her hair had such a powerful effect on me. For a split second I seemed to remember something, as if I had heard her say those words before. But soon, it vanished from memory, and I turned and left.
CHAPTER 8 – THE AWAKENING Wise and knowing friends are more valuable than their weight in gold. I stood on a mountain top, half way around the world from Egypt. I should have been exhausted, traveling as I had without stop, but something spurred me on, driving me forward. I looked down into the valley, my senses sweeping the woodlands. Somewhere close, I knew. Within the stony cradle of the mountains. I leapt from the mountain and let my instinct guide me. It was biting cold here, with the rain pouring down in sheets, but my wards kept me dry and warm. I traveled above the young forest, feeling my heart pounding as the sensation I had followed so far began to peak. I lit down on a large stone in a large clearing. A stream tinkled merrily through it, the sparkle of fish in its depths. I smiled to myself, determining this would make a pleasant place to rest.
Suddenly I became aware of the presence sitting huddled across the clearing, cloaked in robes of deepest black. My mind reeled in panic, and immediately all my wards sprung up around me. A Hunter! Why hadn’t I sensed it? I stood immobile for a time, warily watching the figure as it sat near the stream. The shadow of its hood covered its features completely, so I could not tell whether it had seen me or not. I sent my will out into the woods, searching for signs of the Hound that belonged to this Hunter, but to my surprise there wasn’t one. Finally I focused my attention back to the seated robed one. I watched motionless for a long time, not daring to move. Warders and Hunters were immortal enemies, invariably coming to blows. The blood rage rose when they came close to each other. It ended only when one was cold and still in the embrace of death. I was fearful and confused, wondering why I wasn’t feeling the rage build in me. Suddenly there was a flash of metal from the creature, and I readied myself for an attack. But to my surprise, the Hunter placed its blade on the ground in front of it. Interested despite myself, I sat down on the giant stone and watched. What was the creature about? The Hunter sat motionless for a while, hooded head bowed. Then with grim determination, it took up the blade in its right hand. I watched fascinated as the left hand came up and the grip of the weapon was reversed, point to chest. What the...? The armed tensed, and with a small cry, the Hunter plunged the blade into its chest. Suddenly I felt the world spin. Screaming in very real agony, I reached out with my mind to the Hunter. Dropping my own wards, I enveloped it in a ward, raising its body across the stream and to the stone I sat upon. I could feel the energies of both myself and the Hunter ebbing away, but I completed my task with energy to spare. I leaned over the dying Hunter and pulled the star metal blade from its chest. Red blood poured over my hands as I threw it down and examined the wound. As I touched the Hunter, I realized to my amazement that it, too, was constructed like me, flesh and bone. And I realized something else... It was a woman. The energy inside me was draining now, much like the gushing wound of the woman. I looked down at her, and realized she had been my quest. I took one of her delicate brown hands in mine, concentrating, my life depending on it. Lady, I thought to her. Do not give up. I have come too far to watch you perish. The hood fell back as she spasmed, and I saw her features for the first time. Ethereal beauty. Her hair was the black of midnight, flowing darkly into the shadows of her robe. Her eyes locked on me, golden suns. Her lips moved, but no sound came. I clenched her hand tighter, and she closed her eyes.
Let me die, she thought to me sadly. I am no true Hunter. Emotions cloud my judgment. I am a failure, a dishonor. I directed my energies to close her wounds, but she fought me, hampering my will. Go away! she mentally screamed at me. I reached a hand up to her eyes and brushed tears away. I cannot, lady, for if you die, I will follow soon after. What happened then startled me. Her eyes opened again, and she saw me for the first time. Something passed between us then, very similar to the charge of a thunderbolt. It cannot be, she said, her lips weakly miming her thoughts. Her eyes looked over my face, taking in my silver hair and blue eyes. You are the one, aren’t you? My other half? But you are a Warder! I nodded, kissing her hand. I am too far gone, she said. My doubts and folly have killed us both. No! I forced at her. I have the power to bring you back. Help me. But it will never work. Warders and Hunters destroy each other. I sobbed as I felt her lifeblood pooling at my feet. Then I am no longer a Warder. Help me! She closed her eyes, and I felt the vicious Hunter energies welling within her, so very different from mine. I cannot heal myself, she thought sadly. I don’t have the ability. Then channel your essence to me. I will heal you. The surge of energies whiplashed from her, and I felt my wards spring up in defense. Grim with determination, I dismantled my mental shields one by one, removing all my protection. Now the cold winds and driving rain struck us both. Numbness crept up my arms as the cold attacked them. Doggedly I started absorbing her energy, storing it alongside that of mine. The energies inside me fought to keep themselves apart, and I groaned with agony. So different from each other. The woman opened her eyes in panic, watching as I reeled with pain. Don’t fight it! she mentally screamed. You are killing us both! I grabbed her tightly, her weakening heart near mine. I could feel my energy fighting with natural instinct against hers, seeking to cancel it. It only served to rouse the Hunter energy, causing it to expand in rage. I met her gaze with mine and realized that we were doomed. Please, she begged. Don’t fight me. I drew in a deep breath, rallying my energy. I smiled down at her. Then dropped my resistance. The two energies in my being hung suspended from each other, almost bewildered. Tentatively, the Hunter energy reached out and touched my Warder self and found no
resistance. With an effortlessness that was breathtaking, both energies slipped into each other, combining themselves. I locked my blue eyes onto hers of gold, and time abruptly stopped. I leaned down, and I found her waiting lips with my own. We were transported beyond this place of death, to a world of beautiful light and music. Our split souls, growing inside two separate bodies since our births, had reunited. Her hair escaped from the hood of the robe, floating like a wondrous dark cloud above our heads. Our union reshaped us, seeking to remold us to what it had always planned. I watched as her ebon hair started to fade, its color draining along its length from root to end. Silver started invading it gently, tingeing her eyelashes, brows, and finally her glorious hair. For my part, I felt my eyes tingling, and knew that I had lost my blue eyes forever to the color of molten gold. I felt the wound upon my chest – no, hers – receiving my gift of lifeblood, my body trying to establish equilibrium with hers. Finally the bodies balanced, and the wound closed. She reached up then to touch my hair, her eyes half closed with exhaustion. You are me, and I am you, she thought to me. Even now I can see it was only natural to feel these emotions. I have never been fully a Hunter, I perceive. And I was never fully a Warder. We held each other close, our minds exchanging memories. The feeling was indescribable, the sharing deeper than anything possible on this Earth. It took only an instant, but our entire lives were given to each other. After it was over, we stared into each others’ eyes breathlessly. But what are we to each other, now? she wondered. Sister and Brother? We are of one soul, but of different parents. Lovers, then? She smiled at me, shyly. The most perfect lovers in this world, my Silver Angel. Our lips touched again, and the earth trembled around us. A strange distortion swept through the area. Nature acknowledged our bond, and the open clearing in which our stone stood suddenly was bathed in light as the clouds above parted and warmth flowed into the glade. We lay down upon the boulder and declared our love for each other. Long after, we rested in exhaustion. Twin energies inside us were still raging, threatening to explode. With a directed thought, we channeled it downward through the stone to the earth, splitting the stone in twain. *** Cathedral Grove! I sat up in bed, my eyes fixed on the reflection of the mirror. I remembered! She wasn’t the woman I thought she was, she was more, as was I! My mind reached out in the Warder way, searching for her. She was still at home. Quickly, I bounded for the closet, drawing on my clothes. Must remember! Don’t forget!
I ran for my front door and stood there, hands raised, rallying my forces to me. Then I forgot. What am I doing outside? I wondered with my arms raised. I must have been sleep walking. I felt the memories of a dream slipping from my mind, and yawned with disgust. Looking around, I noticed one of my neighbors running past on an early jog. He waved, and I returned the gesture, turning around and going back inside. Well, at least I had my clothes on. Could have been worse. Realizing it was a good time to get up anyway, I walked to the bathroom for a shower and shave. Toweling the steam off the mirror, I combed my silver hair into place and gazed into the haunted gold eyes of my reflection. What are you staring at? I asked my sad-eyed reflection. You were so close, it answered, blinking, breaking my gaze. ‚Close to what?‛ I muttered as I walked for the door. Sunday mornings meant coffee at the Tea House on the sea walk. I sat at my table with a beautiful view of the harbor, sipping gently from my mug. It was usually quiet this early in the morning, letting me focus my thoughts. On a normal Sunday morning I was here planning the week ahead for my students. This morning, I couldn’t get the thought of Charlotte out of my mind. I remembered the way she had looked sleeping with her head on my shoulder on the drive back, her worry lines gone, replaced with gentleness. The agony of her word, muttered hesitantly in her sleep, ‚Beloved?‛ A throat cleared, and I looked up. An older looking gentleman stood there. He was dark, the deep brown of old teak wood. Eyes of dark brown sparkled above a hooked nose, wiry black hair curled close to his head. He looked at me expectantly. ‚May I sit, young friend?‛ His voice was mellow, and for some reason I immediately knew this was a good man. I gestured to the seat across from me. He sipped for a while on his tea, then pushed it away from himself. ‚Tea,‛ he snorted with distaste, looking wistfully east across the bay. ‚I remember the tea of my home, filled with the aroma and flavor of a thousand spices. How I miss my home.‛ His eyes focused on me, and he rubbed his hooked nose. ‚Barbarian,‛ my lips said of their own volition. ‚We sit together in the most beautiful nation of the world, and you can only think of your homeland?‛ Aghast at what I had just said, I looked out into the harbor, only to see his reflection in the glass. To my surprise, his eyes twinkled with humor. I turned my gaze back. He was looking at me with his deep brown eyes. ‚Young friend, something worries you.‛ I closed my eyes and felt a tickling inside my head, as if something were on the tip of my tongue. Opening my eyes, I looked at him.
‚I feel strange,‛ I said, not even bothered that I didn’t know this man. It seemed right, somehow, that I said this to him. ‚Unease, mostly. At times, it is difficult to breath. My vision doubles, my heart beats fast, my hands get shaky and moist. I feel there is something in the back of my mind I am forgetting, something important, but I just can’t remember what!‛ He sat silently across the table, hands clasping his tea cup. ‚I feel I am changing, as if some destiny calls me.‛ I almost reached out to put my hand on his shoulder, but stopped myself. ‚I feel so lonely, it’s scary. And I am scared. But I’m excited as well. What’s wrong with me?‛ I pleaded to him. His hand came across the table and grasped mine firmly, and we sat that way for a moment. Then a smile appeared on his face, and his sparkling eyes moistened. I sat aghast as a tear slipped down the cheek of my table partner. ‚What is it?!‛ I said, panicked. ‚Are you alright?‛ He squeezed my hand, his face quivering with emotion. ‚Nothing is wrong, my dearest friend. Everything is right. You are feeling it again, like the first time, so long ago.‛ I was confused, and sat back hastily. My vision started to double again. ‚I know you, don’t I?‛ I whispered, my mind in turmoil. ‚Your soul has been crying for her,‛ he continued, his eyes sparkling. ‚She is your life. Together, you are one.‛ His hand slipped inside his jacket and he pulled forth an object which he placed in my hands. ‚I found this in the ruins of her city. I return it to you now, as you once asked me.‛ I looked down at it, and suddenly my mind exploded with memories. ***** We lay on the splintered boulder, gazing for an eternity into each other’s eyes. Our half souls were reunited, our energies spent. Raising her chin, I kissed her deeply, and our emotions ran high. Once again, energies of a different sort again built up between us, entwining us as we entwined each other. Much later, we both sat on the stone holding hands, gazing at the star metal blade that glistened still with her lifeblood. I would keep it, for it has brought us together, she said. She shivered, and I held her close. But it is a symbol of death and destruction, something I would forget about my former life. I focused my thought on the blade and it floated to my hand. Then we will both keep it. It will symbolize us. I focused my will upon the blade, augmented now by the new powers at my disposal. She helped me, supplying me with energy that no longer stung to hold. We watched as the surface of the sword started glowing, then warped into a sphere of molten metal. I shaped it with my mind, and my love’s, into two perfect bands of woven star metal.
The one, becoming two, I said, slipping her band over her wrist and onto her right arm. The two, becoming one. I looked down at the intricate star metal band in my hand. The dark gentleman sat across from me, his eyes alight. You remember now, don’t you Young Friend? I grasped his hands in gratitude, feeling the tears flow down my cheeks. I felt my soul reawaken, rejoicing in its freedom. The lives I had lived since my first all came rushing back to me, along with painful memories I could scarcely bear. I had encountered my beloved in her two thousand year-long quest to find me again. Many times. Each time I lost her again as my ill-prepared body burnt out from energies it couldn’t contain. Or worse, I was hunted by those I wasn’t prepared to battle. I wept as I remembered seeing horror and despair on her face time after time, knowing she might never see me again. I smiled through my tears. Death would never beckon me again. My old friend had prepared my body gradually and gently. And as never before in my incarnations, I finally held the one item that anchored me to this life, symbolizing everything I had a reason to live for. My fingers caressed the glittering band of metal. I remember everything... my dearest Old Friend... He clasped my shoulder with excitment, his eyes fixed on mine. Once again, I am immortal.
CHAPTER 9 - REVELATION Like the flowers of Paradise, so love, eternal. I walked into the staff room Monday morning, mug in one hand, briefcase in the other. Bob Brooks and Miss Jones were chatting when they saw me come in. Bob abruptly cut off what he was saying and looked at me, brows raised. I chuckled as I walked to the coffee machine and filled up. ‚What the hell happened to you?‛ he said. ‚Your hair is completely gray!‛ He and Miss Jones exchanged glances as I walked to their table. ‚I decided to let my natural color show,‛ I shrugged. ‚I prefer to think of it as silver.‛ ‚You’re kidding!‛ exclaimed Miss Jones. ‚You look ancient now!‛ I smiled at her and winked. ‚I am ancient.‛
The door to the staff room opened, and we all turned to watch Charlotte Meyers enter. She greeted Bob and Miss Jones, then saw me. All the color drained from her face, and a haunted expression grew there. Quickly she crossed to the coffee pot and shaking, poured herself a mug. Then she gave me another glance and walked quickly across the room for the door. ‚What’s wrong, Charlotte?‛ I asked, my voice mellow. She stopped in her tracks. Scalding coffee spilled out of the mug and onto her shaking hand, but she didn’t seem to notice. Slowly she turned to look at me and forced a smile. ‚You reminded me of someone I once knew, Alex,‛ she whispered. I could feel Bob and the secretary exchange glances, but my eyes never left hers. ‚That’s strange,‛ I said, my heart thumping madly. ‚Who would that be?‛ My beloved, she thought. I smiled as she turned for the door again. ‚After so many years,‛ I said, leaving the table and walking up behind her. ‚After so much heartbreak, you never stopped looking.‛ Her head turned, and she looked over her shoulder at me, her eyes brimming with tears. I gently turned her to face me, gazing into her gold eyes with my own. Her hand weakly clasped my right arm, encountering the star metal band I wore under my shirt. A sob wracked her as her gaze went to my arm, then back to my golden eyes. ‚I told you we would be reunited, my love,‛ I whispered. Beloved?! her thought was desperate, pleading, hoping. She shook her head with disbelief, the tears flowing freely down her cheeks. Her coffee mug dropped to the floor, forgotten. I brushed her hair from her face, and she tilted her head up. I leaned down to touch her parted lips with mine. I’d forgotten the joy of being in her arms. Suddenly we were fiercely together, exchanging our love and passion. The world around us vanished. Beloved!! she cried, her arms around me so tight, she nearly broke my ribs. We slowly parted, and she looked up at me, her liquid gold eyes shining with happiness for the first time in forever. I rubbed my nose against hers. I’m sorry I took so long, my Silver Angel. But this time, I’m here to stay. *** End of Part I ***
FOREWORD Synergy is the second of three installments of the Silver Angel series. Originally, Synergy had been created as a standalone short story, focusing on a modern version of the Sherlock Holmes with a female Watson. I was intrigued by the idea of two very brilliant people coming together to solve crime and eventually become romantically involved. Thankfully, that idea went the way of the dodo as I wrote more of the story, and realized that it fit very well into my Silver Angel universe. And as I’ve mentioned, I like strong female lead characters. Having Angela as a yes man sidekick character grated on my nerves. So without much forethought, I adapted it into the Silver Angel storyline. And, to my gratification, I was able to dust off Alex and Charlotte from their long sleep in the bottom drawer, and bring them to life again. Also, it is worthy to note this is a re-edit of the second part, so it will flow better into the third and final part. If you have read Synergy before, please re-read it. Concepts have been clarified, and inconsistencies addressed (hopefully). Without further ado, I present to you,
Silver Angel PART II – SYNERGY By Darrell Summerfelt
CHAPTER 1 – A MEETING OF MINDS I shuddered involuntary, feeling the cold shivers running down my spine. It wasn’t the first murder crime scene I’d entered. It was, however, the first I’d entered of my own will. I picked my way through the labeled debris on the charred floor, lifting each foot carefully and watching where the next step could be placed safely. A path was marked off with police tape, and I followed it like a lifeline, my eyes locked on the yellow ribbon. A strange odor wafted through the air, penetrating the smell of smoke, and I found my nose beginning to twitch uncontrollably. Stopping in my tracks between what once had been a sofa and a table (according to their labels), I bent over and sneezed. ‚Gesundheit,‛ came a male voice from my right.
I straightened up and quickly glanced in that direction. A young man had leaned back through a doorway, presumably to the kitchen, and was staring at me. ‚You have business here?‛ he asked with a raised eyebrow. He wore a covering over his clothing that looked like clear plastic coveralls. With horror, I looked down and realized my light blue suit was covered in soot. I cursed silently. ‚I’m looking for a man named Sherlock,‛ I said with embarrassment, trying to ignore the black marks on the fabric. ‚Basement,‛ he answered, nodding to another doorway off the room I stood in. I thanked the man and turned, straightening my glasses. My eyes swept over the charred remains of the living room. I was absolutely baffled how the crime scene investigators could make heads or tales out of this mess. A small piece of ash fell off a table as I brushed past. Looking back in the direction I’d come from, I hoped I hadn’t destroyed any important evidence on the way in. Reaching the heavily scorched door, I found it was partially ajar. I pulled it open far enough to get through, leaving more black streaks on my jacket. Thankfully a cleared steel staircase descended into the gloom, and I confidently took the steps down. At the bottom, I saw the glow of a powerful flashlight reflecting off cement walls. ‚Hello?‛ I asked tentatively, reaching the bottom. ‚Stop!‛ said a deep male voice. I froze in place, wondering if I had accidentally stepped on some evidence. The flashlight beam swept over me, throwing my shadow onto the wall to my right. The beam hit my face and slowing traveled down my body. I felt extremely embarrassed, realizing I was being scrutinized. I could imagine what he was seeing: dark brown hair twisted up in a severe bun behind my head. Overly large glasses perched on a pointed noise, separating piercing hazel eyes. I knew my lips protruded a bit, having buck teeth which I’d never bothered to correct. As the beam of light lowered, I could feel it on my small chest, and descend lower to my skirt and legs. ‚Can I move now?‛ I asked, anger seeping into my voice. ‚Yup,‛ he said, flashlight already moving back to his task. I couldn’t see him very well in the darkness, other than a hunched silhouette when the light hit the wall in front of him. I stepped toward him. Luckily the floor was clear, and I didn’t have to negotiate labeled items. ‚My name is Dr. Angela Weaver,‛ I said with clipped syllables when I was close enough to talk without raising my voice. ‚I was directed to you by Special Agent Dan Williams of the FBI.‛ I saw him raise a hand from his crouched position, indicating silence, and I stopped talking, my mouth still open. Reaching into a bag at his feet, he withdrew a pair of forceps and lifted something from a small pile of ash. ‚Hold onto this, please?‛ he asked, handing the flashlight over his shoulder to me. ‚Point it in front of me.‛
Once I held the beam, I couldn’t resist running it over the man, returning the scrutiny he had given me. He wore a dark brown tweed jacket and blue jeans, black loafers on his feet. Long wavy blonde hair hung over the back of the jacket. ‚In front of me, please,‛ he repeated, nodding his head to the pile. I placed myself to the side and slightly behind him, shining the flashlight beam over his shoulder and onto the object in front of him. It took me a moment to realize what he was looking at before my eyes watered and stomach heaved, wanting to expel my breakfast all over this man’s back. ‚I’m curious,‛ he said, gingerly lifting a tiny object and putting it into a plastic evidence bag, ‚why would the FBI give you my name?‛ He straightened up, and I realized he was only slightly taller than me. I’d guess he was 5’7‛, with a slight frame. I saw a pair of goggles covered his face as he turned to look at me, showing me my own bespectacled reflection in their panes. I gave a dry cough, which was followed by more. He quickly stuffed his evidence back into his jacket and reclaimed the flashlight, leading me to the stairs with a hand at the small of my back. Without a word I climbed the stairs, the sound of his soft tread behind me, the touch of his hand somehow stabilizing my world as dizzying waves flowed through me. When we reached the top, he guided me with a hand on my shoulder through the burnt out home, heading to the porch and beyond to the lawn. ‚Sit,‛ he said, pointing to a large rock. I sat on the stone and gasped in fresh air, not realizing how strong the smoke smell had been. Once I was able to breathe calmly again, I looked at the man. He was standing slightly aside, his chin in his hand, eyes unfocused. I watched fascinated as one of his blonde eyebrows twitched while he thought. ‚I’m alright now, thanks,‛ I said, standing up again, eager to get to business. He continued to stand motionless, barely breathing as he stared at the grass. Finally both his eyebrows shot up, and he smiled. ‚Got it,‛ he said, turning to me with a grin. ‚Almost brilliant in its simplicity.‛ He quickly jogged back to a pair of uniformed officers near the front steps and eagerly started issuing commands. I watched confused as he chattered to them, and they jotted down notes in their notepads. He handed over his evidence bag to them, and one of the officers looked at it carefully, and nodded. Finally, this man with the nickname of Sherlock turned back to me and walked over, his steps light. ‚You solved the crime?‛ I asked, wondering if this was the case. ‚It really was very simple,‛ he said. ‚I was stumped for awhile, until you arrived.‛ He grinned, a childlike look of triumph on his face. ‚Sometimes all you need is a minor disruption in your thinking pattern to reevaluate what you’ve learned from a different perspective. Thank you.‛ The goggles were riding on his forehead now, and I saw what seemed like a ridiculously young face, maybe in its mid-twenties. In fact, his entire look
was mismatched, from his long hair and slight frame, to his black loafers and blue jeans. There was something almost attractive in his patchwork appearance. ‚Utilitarian,‛ he said simply. ‚I wear clothing that works for me, rather than making me look like a desk jockey.‛ He pulled off his goggles. I was taken aback that this young man had seemed to read my mind, and he startled me again with another chuckle. ‚I’m a student of human nature and details,‛ he said. ‚Let’s go to lunch. I can see whatever you’re going to talk to me about is going to take awhile, and I’m starved, and so are you.‛ He blinked. ‚I’m not into spicy food like you are, but we can meet half-way and go Mexican, if you’d like?‛ In my profession, I was rarely at a loss for words. Usually I was the one who would amaze or dumbfound the people around me with theories or technical jargon. This was why I was absolutely amazed as the young man seemed to read me like a book. I’d been told his skills were legendary by the FBI, and I was beginning to understand what that label implied. He nodded at my unspoken consent, and we begin walking to where my car was parked. The house had at least twenty vehicles parked around it, belonging to the investigation staff, police and reporters. Without error, he led me to my import sedan and smiled again. ‚I’m resisting the urge to ask how you’re guessing so accurately,‛ I said, fishing for my keys in my clutch bag. ‚Not really guessing,‛ he said. ‚Guessing implies uncertainty.‛ It was a simple statement, almost pompous, but he delivered it without arrogance. ‚I rarely say anything unless I’m sure it’s fact.‛ ‚I’m beginning to understand your nickname,‛ I said, still a little chilled by his accuracy. I opened the door and flicked the switch that unlocked the passenger door. He got in and did up his seat belt. ‚Ahh,‛ he began with a grimace as I started up the car. ‚Sherlock Holmes. Yes.‛ He seemed almost embarrassed. As I pulled onto the street, he answered my unasked question by pointing to the left at the intersection. ‚Arthur Conan Doyle was a brilliant man, but he did go a little overboard with Holmes, making him draw outrageous conclusions that could have been deduced in a different manner. Of course, this was just to make his hero appear to be almost supernaturally brilliant.‛ I listened as I drove, a smile creeping to my lips. He was spooky in one way, but interesting nevertheless. ‚Here,‛ he said, pointing to the right. I pulled into the parking lot of the Mexican restaurant and found a spot. We got out. ‚I used to love Sherlock Holmes, Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys,‛ I said, warming to his eclectic personality. ‚And of course, Peirot, Agatha Christie, Columbo and other TV shows.‛
‚It’s the unraveling of the puzzle,‛ he said, guiding me to the restaurant door with a hand on my back. ‚Nothing is as fascinating as seeing the mechanics of a truly baffling puzzle being slowly disassembled until you can begin to fathom its design.‛ I glanced at him as we were led to a table near the window. Once we were seated, his eyes were distant looking again. ‚I’m here to recruit you,‛ I said, watching his face for reaction. The only thing that happened was an eyebrow raised, ever so slightly. He chuckled, his brown eyes focusing and locking with mine. ‚Now you have my interest,‛ he said with a smile. ‚A brilliant physicist with connections in the FBI, with clearance to enter a murder crime scene, who is looking to recruit me for an unknown project. My attention is entirely yours.‛ ***** ‚Interesting,‛ he repeated, his eyes unfocused again. I bit into my fajita, heavily peppered with jalapenos. I scanned his face, trying to find signs of skepticism. Instead, he seemed to believe every word, and was chewing on the significance. ‚Would you mind very much if I restate what you’ve told me?‛ ‚Not at all.‛ I knitted my fingers together and leaned my chin on them. ‚Point one: You say you’ve discovered a way to visualize and record the electrical field that surrounds a living creature.‛ ‚Their aura, yes,‛ I said. ‚Hmm<‛ He grimaced. ‚Angela, I understand the reference to the mystical force that is generated by all things, but I think the two should remain separate in your mind, for now. Although science and mysticism have been known to be compatible bedfellows, there are probably literally millions of books discussing auras, chakras and other energies. You don’t want to open that can of worms.‛ I had to laugh. ‚Too late. The term was adopted and accepted by the research staff.‛ The grimace remained. ‚Point two: You also said that you can match these ‘auras’ to crime scenes.‛ I nodded again, clarifying. ‚This was one of the more fascinating discoveries in this line of research. People who’ve spent time with objects leave a lingering trace of their aura on items. Depending on the item, sometimes it seems to record the aura of the person, and the trace remains for a while. Anywhere from a couple days to a couple weeks.‛ I leaned back in the booth seat. ‚If the emotions at the crime scene were extreme, the lingering aura would be more powerful, lasting for years, conceivably decades.‛ He leaned over the table, his face serious.
‚Now I find that very interesting,‛ he said. ‚Don’t you think it argues in favor of ghost sightings and sensitives? People who can read the history of a place or objects.‛ I shook my head. ‚No, aura reading would be beyond the spectrum of human perception,‛ I said. ‚We can’t register auras with our existing senses.‛ He laughed, the first time I had heard him do so. I was astounded at the deep musical notes from such a young man. ‚Open your mind.‛ He laughed again, this time more softly. ‚Being a researcher, you have to eat crow sometimes and realize that what you’ve considered ‚magic‛ or ‚ghosts‛ can be explained with science if you examine them closely enough. Look what you’ve accomplished by discovering aura signatures.‛ He took a sip of coffee and sat back in the booth, eyes on the ceiling. ‚The human body analyzes the data from the five known senses by first registering the data with the organ which detects it, then sending a signal to the brain. The brain interprets the data into tangible form. The nose detects something, sends an electrical impulse to the brain, and the brain interprets the smell so you’ll understand it’s the salsa that’s stuck to your cheek.‛ His eyes glittered, and I hurriedly brushed away the sauce with a napkin. ‚Now, imagine if someone approached one of these strong lingering auras. The electrical field sends an impulse directly to their brain, and the brain interprets the aura. Visual, smell, taste, touch and sound. All five senses stimulated by the electrical field of someone else’s aura, lingering in an object, empowered by strong emotion.‛ ‚That’s an extremely sketchy theory,‛ I said with narrowed eyes. ‚One that I’d find hard to believe, given that all our researchers were in various crime scenes, and didn’t experience this phenomenon.‛ ‚Can you hear the high pitched whine of a television set?‛ he asked, leaning his head to the side with an eyebrow raised. ‚No,‛ I said, wondering where this was going. ‚I can,‛ he said. ‚Sometimes it drives me crazy. Humans can detect, on average, sound frequencies from 20 to 20,000 hertz. However, there are always some that fall outside this norm. My hearing has been tested at up to 25,000 hertz. In effect, I can hear the scream of a television set when it’s turned on in the apartment next to mine.‛ ‚I understand,‛ I said. ‛Although uncommon, that’s a well documented fact. Although the higher range of hearing tends to drop off after adolescence.‛ ‚Interesting, isn’t it?‛ he smiled. ‚Children speak of seeing fantastic things all the time, or talk about magical adventures they’ve had during the day, or imaginary friends. I propose they are more sensitive to reading these electrical fields than you suspect. And as they grow older, in most all of them the ability dwindles due to physiological changes in their own electrical systems. Eventually, they forget these experiences just as they forget almost every other memory as a child.‛ I was dumbfounded, once again. This man was truly amazing.
‚That’s quite a theory,‛ I said, a few seconds later. He smiled, self-depreciating, tapping his temple. ‚It’s a curse, you know,‛ he said with a chuckle. He continued, raising a third finger. ‚Point three: The government, who is paying for this line of research, would like to field test this ‘aura reading’ technique of yours. You have decided to use it in a crime solving aspect. Namely, forensics.‛ ‚Yes,‛ I nodded. ‚I specialize in recording and separating multiple auras from objects in a closed environment.‛ ‚However,‛ he said, ‚to determine which auras are the pertinent ones in the investigation, you need to work in conjunction with a crime scene investigator.‛ ‚Essentially, yes.‛ I sipped my coffee. ‚If we can find the lead pipe that was involved in the murder, we can read the auras left on it, separate them, and discover it was Colonel Mustard who did it.‛ ‚Amazing,‛ he said, shaking his head. ‚I must admit, you have me interested.‛ He leaned back and chuckled, looking out the window. ‚Count me in.‛ I was astonished. ‚You’ll have to clear it with your superiors,‛ I began. He laughed and stood up. ‚It’ll be fine,‛ he said. ‚I’m just here as a specialist consultant, not really a cop. Let’s get back to the crime scene, so you can drop me off and you can start to make the arrangements. I’d suspect a month would probably be enough time for your test?‛ I drove back to the crime scene, still shocked by this man who sat quietly beside me, staring out the passenger window. Many people prided themselves by thinking outside the box. This man thought outside the whole room the box sat in. I could barely fathom the intellect that must power his mind. ‚Have you ever been tested for IQ?‛ I blurted, realizing what an insult that might have been. He snorted, turning away from the window and looking at me. ‚You and I both know how faulty the IQ testing system is,‛ he answered. ‚For the most part, it’s culturally, regionally, age and educationally biased. I have to admit though, I was curious once and had myself tested. However, I lost interest after the test, not putting much stock in its value.‛ ‚How did you do?‛ I wondered. ‚If you don’t mind my asking, that is.‛ ‚225,‛ he said, looking back out the window. I gasped and nearly drove off the road. ‚That’s amazing,‛ I said. ‚Simply amazing. And it doesn’t affect your social functioning at all?‛ He cocked an eyebrow, and I saw the corner of his mouth turn upward. ‚175, correct?‛ he said, humor in his voice.
Luckily I had just pulled into the driveway of the home, or I would have ran off the road again. We got out of the car. ‚It is a curse sometimes, Angela. The mind is always racing, calculating, interpreting facts, counting objects, deciphering stimuli and going off in tangents. Often when I speak to people, I have to slow down the way I think so I can form coherent sentences for them. The most difficult thing about being intelligent, as you know, is communication. Not everyone thinks like us, and once we understand and accept that fact, it makes the whole social thing easier for us to bear.‛ ‚You are remarkable,‛ I said with a smile. ‚However, I’m glad there aren’t many like you.‛ He returned the smile and got out of the car. Fishing around in his jacket, he removed a business card and handed it to me. ‚When you’re ready to roll on this, give me a call. Any hour will do< I don’t sleep much.‛ ‚Me neither,‛ I said. I suddenly felt myself choking up and cursed myself for letting my mind wander. He touched the back of my hand. I was shocked at his sudden intimacy and drew my hand back quickly. I went from shock to embarrassment. ‚I’m sorry,‛ I said, blushing. To my surprise he was smiling. ‚That’s the best compliment I’ve had in a while,‛ he said softly. His hand was safely behind his back now, and I breathed easier. ‚Don’t worry< we all go through rough patches. You’ll be alright.‛ I stared at him warily. I wondered if he had already figured out what had disturbed me. ‚You’re a little scary,‛ I said, slowly calming down. ‚I understand you having insight into my mind, being a student of human nature. But all the other stuff, like knowing I liked spicy food, or choosing my car in the parking lot, or even knowing I was a physicist. How can you explain that?‛ I watched him rub his chin, his eyes sparkling as he looked off into the distance. He let out a gentle laugh, which calmed me even more. ‚OK Angela, I’ll let you in on my tricks of the trade.‛ He leaned against my car. ‚Like the original Sherlock said, it’s all about observation. I knew you were a physicist simply because I’ve read your papers. PhDs in theoretical physics, linguistics, and medieval history, plus a respectable string of letters after your name. And your IQ score was part of my reading. I never thought I’d have the chance to meet you, but I recognized your name immediately.‛ I was flattered by the man’s genuine compliment. ‚Thank you. Now explain my car and my love for spicy food.‛ ‚When we left the house and headed towards the vehicles, you reached into your purse for your keys and looked straight at your car. I know you like spicy food because<‛ He waved his hand between us, as if warding off foul air. My eyes widened and I felt myself blushing.
‚Just kidding,‛ he said, laughing again. ‚Actually, I was just guessing. But you struck me as the type of woman who liked spicy dishes.‛ I shook my head, unbelieving. ‚So you do guess, occasionally?‛ His bright smile stayed on his lips. ‚Was I wrong?‛ I shrugged, opening the door of my car and getting in. ‚I’ll call you tomorrow.‛ ‚I’ll be waiting,‛ he said, walking back to the house, a hand raised over his shoulder. ***** That evening as I was lying in the hotel bed, I realized I didn’t even know the man’s real name. I had been so engrossed by the conversation with him, I hadn’t thought to ask. I was such a social dropout. Getting up, I reached for my glasses on the night table and lifted my purse from the floor and opened it, rifling around until I found the card. Turning on the bedside lamp, I read the plain black text. Franklin Sherlock Riley. I laughed. Nickname? It was his middle name, after all! I fell silent as my eyes dropped beneath his name, to his own respectable string of letters attached. He seemed to have a doctorate in every discipline that existed at universities. Including a few that didn’t. I realized he shared my physics degree. It was almost an ego card, saying ‚Look at me, I’m amazing.‛ But it was impossible to be jealous of him. If anything his personality was self-effacing and likable. Why hadn’t I heard of this guy before? People with 225 IQs didn’t grow on trees. As far as I knew, they didn’t grow on this planet either. Why would someone like that end up in crime scene investigation? You’d think they’d be solving the world’s food shortage crisis, or starting weird science-religion cults, or becoming billionaires. I placed the card carefully down on the bedside table, and turned off the lamp. My amazement at this young man cleared my mind of darker thoughts for the first time in many nights, and I dropped off to sleep peacefully. ***** ‚Absolutely fantastic,‛ he said, flipping through the operating manual of the aura recognition machinery. I had the uneasy feeling he was reading as the leaves turned quickly. ‚I have to admit, I’d never really thought about this field of research. It’s so simple, it’s brilliant.‛ Simple, he says. I sat next to him at the board room table while the pages of the 500 page book whispered. I sipped on my coffee. It had only taken two days for him to pack his bags,
hop in his car and reach the research facility in southern California. A shiny name tag dangled from the pocket of his tweed jacket. ‚The applications of this technology are broad,‛ he said, finally closing the book and smiling. ‚Crime scene investigation is the most obvious for us, but of course you’d be exploring aspects like medicine, geology and astronomy as well. I’m sure the government has already discussed military applications.‛ The geology comment made my ears perk. ‚Geology? How so?‛ I asked. ‚Geological stresses both upon and beneath the surface causing shifts in the electrical field of the Earth,‛ he said, reaching for his own coffee. ‚I’d presume that high stress areas would compress large volumes of matter, distorting the field. Should be useful in detecting potential earthquakes and eruptions.‛ He tapped his lip with the Styrofoam cup. ‚You may be able to adjust the readings to find specific deposits of minerals or oil, too.‛ I had to shake my head. ‚You’re wasted in CSI,‛ I said. ‚You’d make a brilliant researcher.‛ He turned his head to look at me, his eyes wide in mock horror. ‚I can’t think of a more boring occupation than being a researcher.‛ He looked out the staff room window. ‚No offense intended, Angela, but I’d rather be the one doing things, than let my mind wander on abstract notions all day.‛ ‚It does require a special sort of loafer,‛ I smiled. His lips curled up momentarily. ‚Have you considered aura harmonics as well?‛ he asked, his expression serious again. ‚Ah, what?‛ I asked, surprised. I pondered what he’d said, and realized what he’d been thinking. ‚You mean the interaction of two or more live auras?‛ ‚Sure,‛ he said. ‚You should be able to set up an aura signature interaction simulation using the technology you have. If you could figure out the proper algorithms and keypoints in the signatures, it wouldn’t be too difficult to see if two people’s personalities were compatible or not.‛ I actually snorted. I started to laugh. ‚I’m sure the government would be thrilled to find out we were spending their money on a dating service.‛ He merely stared at me with his brown eyes. ‚Why would it be any less valid than any other application of this technology? Don’t people have the right to find someone they can love for the rest of their lives? And honestly, I don’t think it would be that difficult.‛ He hefted the manual, and dropped it to the table. ‚The technology is rather simple, and the electrical signatures for humans, although complex, seem to follow a pattern consistent with all other humans. Plus, the signatures contain much of a person’s personality. I don’t think, with a small stretch of imagination, that it would take very long to create a compatibility evaluation program, or be very expensive since you have everything I need.‛
‚Everything ‘I’ need?‛ I grinned. ‚You seem to have found something interesting to pursue. Don’t tell me one of those strings of letters behind your name covers this?‛ ‚Come now,‛ he said with his own grin. ‚Remember, I’m a hands-on person. Besides, I enjoy taking the theoretical and making it operational.‛ ‚I suppose I can lend you some lab time for your experiments,‛ I said. ‚However, first things first.‛ ‚Ah, yes,‛ he said. ‚Justifying expenditures to continue the project. Don’t worry, we’ll make the overseers happy, I’m sure.‛ ***** Despite the creepiness I felt in murder scenes, Sherlock was a pleasure to work with, and the trial was a great success. No great shock, a crime scene investigator’s main problem in most crime scenes was identifying the culprit. Sherlock showed me how he could pin down the crime scene and determine the crime, the details, a weapon or tool used, sometimes even the clothing or general description of the culprit. It was amazing watching him work a site, his piercing glance taking in every detail. Once he’d identified something that most probably had come in contact with the criminal, it was my turn. The rest of the crew had been told to steer clear of crime scenes until Sherlock and I had examined them. This was normally not a problem, since it took us no more than 15 minutes to sweep the site. Once the signatures had been recorded, a cross analysis was performed, matching auras from the different objects that he indicated had been in contact with the culprit. Usually, this ended up with no more than two to five potential criminal auras. The aura data was uploaded to the research lab’s mainframe via my laptop computer, and our high-tech op kicked into gear. The government satellites in orbit began to scan the area, using new filtering software we had developed. Once the spy sats found the matching live auras from humans, we could send in our investigation team to check them out. Out of 15 test results in the first 20 days, we had only failed to take the culprit into custody once. The one failure was due to finding the culprit’s corpse stuffed into a dumpster behind a convenience store. However, further investigation found the culprit of that crime. Identifying the culprit was only the beginning, but once we’d determined who it was, we could reverse engineer the crime and pin the tail on the donkey. The aura evidence wouldn’t stand up in court, even if we had explained to the rest of the CSI staff what we really had been doing. All they knew was that Sherlock had a civilian consultant along during investigations, and together we were making some pretty amazing breakthroughs. It was an overwhelming success.
Each day after hours, Sherlock pursued his hobby. Once again, my team members didn’t know what he was doing, only that the algorithms he was furiously typing into the mainframe terminals were beyond them to comprehend. He allowed them free access to the code during the days, not explaining what he was doing. The technicians had determined after two days of sifting through data that it didn’t appear to be harmful code. The scientists stubbornly tried to decipher Sherlock’s hacked code for another five days before they gave up. ‚How goes your experiment?‛ I asked over lunch in the facility cafeteria. It was Saturday, and most of the staff wasn’t in. We hung out on Saturdays at the lab, since he was always working on his code, and I didn’t have much of a life. ‚Have you finished the code?‛ He gave me a blank stare for a moment. ‚Ah!‛ he laughed. ‚You mean the aura harmonics hypothesis? I finished that a couple weeks ago.‛ ‚You have?‛ I said, my voice rising. ‚That’s incredible!‛ Suddenly I became suspicious. ‚So then< what’s the code you’ve been entering on the computer since then?‛ ‚Well,‛ he began, ‚I was fiddling around with that geology theory I mentioned. About detecting the fluctuations in the Earth’s magnetic field and predicting seismic events and detecting mineral deposits.‛ ‚That’s great. I’ll be interested to see that when you finish.‛ I smiled widely at him. ‚After I finished that,‛ he continued with a small smile, ‚I jumped onto other projects.‛ His eyes went distant, while I felt my jaw drop in amazement. ‚I started thinking esoteric, and wondering if a lingering electrical field was strong enough, whether it could be recorded and a simulation made of the personality behind it. In other words, simulating artificial intelligence using a real person’s lingering thought patterns.‛ ‚Oh my god,‛ I said, holding my hand to my mouth. ‚Makes you think, doesn’t it?‛ he asked, chewing slowing on his clubhouse sandwich. ‚We could create ghosts in the machine. Reanimate dead people’s personalities.‛ ‚The dead should remain dead,‛ I whispered. A cold lump of horror formed in my stomach. He stared at me, his eyes unreadable. Finally he nodded. ‚I agree,‛ he said, much to my relief. ‚It was a thought, but I never pursued it. However, I think we can agree that the application of this technology is only limited by how narrowly we regard it.‛
CHAPTER 2 – PUZZLE IN THE ROCKIES I dreamt.
I knew it was a dream, because right from the beginning it was odd and illogical. Appropriately, I was dressed like Alice had been in the old cartoon about Wonderland. I wore a long blue dress with a white apron, and my long brown hair was curled in ridiculous ringlets. I was wandering through an abandoned fair ground in the deep of night, feeling small and alone. A tingle of fear made me shiver. ‚Hello?‛ I whispered, walking around the giant dead machinery. My voice held an edge of hysteria, and my shoes were making very loud clicking noises on the concrete every time I set down a foot. I hoped I wasn’t alone, but at the same time I hoped no one would hear me, in this dark and frightening place. As I walked through the fairground, I started to hear noises. Phones ringing, typewriters clacking, the sound of traffic and car horns. It was far away, but all around me. Numerous voices raised in babble, not a single one clear enough to understand. The feeling of anxiety increased as the noises became louder. Suddenly I cleared the buildings and rides, and before me stood a massive Ferris wheel. I decided the noise that surrounded me wouldn’t be able to reach me at the heights, so I ran to the gigantic wheel, the sounds pursuing me, desperate to stay on my heels. When I reached the bottom of the ride, I hopped on the silver escalator that ran to the top. I knew that whatever pursued me wouldn’t be able to set foot on the moving staircase. Relaxing, I looked up to the top of the wheel and saw a golden seat waiting for me. I smiled and felt satisfaction. Sitting in the chair, I looked around and realized I was at the top of the world. Nothing above me but the sky, which was now a bright blue. Looking down, I saw the masses of people looking up at me with adoring faces. I smiled and waved, and they cheered. ‚You’re an egotistical bitch,‛ sneered a voice near at hand. I frowned, looking around. My happiness faded away. This person had ruined the experience for me. I felt the Ferris wheel lurch. The blue sky was getting darker again, and I felt a wave of fear. The golden seat I sat on began to move forward, slowly descending. I was horror struck as I realized I was being lowered into the mass of people, far below. ‚You need to be soiled,‛ snarled the voice. A voice I’d hoped I’d never hear again in my life. No no no! I began to sob wildly as I descended toward the crowd of humanity. I began to see individual faces, and they all shared the same expression of madness, lust and murder. The Ferris wheel lurched to a halt. I was sitting in my golden seat, swinging half way from the top of the ride. I looked down at the grey mass of people staring silently up at me, waiting, and I shivered, suppressing a sob. ‚Don’t worry about it,‛ said Sherlock with his calm voice, sitting at my side. I turned to him in surprise, instantly grateful he was there. He noticed my expression and winked. ‚Come now, you recognize all the signs in this dream. The lonely park, anonymous faces of the masses, the man who altered your life forever and turned every stranger into
a potential threat.‛ He sighed. ‚Subconsciously think you should feel threatened by me. It’s dredging up past experiences which are haunting you in your dreams.‛ Even in my dreams he was analytical and precise. He leaned in and wrapped an arm around me, and I suddenly realized he was very warm. ‚I don’t feel intimidated by you,‛ I said stubbornly. I couldn’t meet his gaze, although I knew he was wanting me to. He chuckled. His body evaporated. ‚You need to be soiled, freak.‛ I screeched as the voice of horror whispered in my ear. My hand clenched around the handle of the machete. My heart thundered in my ears as I swung precisely and deadly. And my eyes opened in time to hear my echoing scream of primal rage and fear in the darkened bedroom. ***** We stood slightly apart in the crater of what used to be a small home on the fringe of a town in the foothills of the Rockies. I operated the handheld unit, adjusting the settings to try to pick up any traces of a residual aura. I’d been at it for a half hour and still hadn’t detected anything. Sherlock was like a statue, remaining perfectly still while his eyes swept the dusty bowl. Late last night my department had been called in by the CIA to help investigate this unusual site. Apparently word had spread behind the scenes that we were generating almost supernatural results in our research fieldwork, and someone had suggested to the investigating agents that they might be able to use us to help clear up this mystery. According to the reports, this used to be a normal homestead out in the suburbs of the small town. A log-built home with a husband, wife and three kids. One day the home and family was there, the next morning the neighbors discovered a crater 40 feet across, 15 feet deep with a fine layer of ash. The agent on the case had questioned the neighboring homes, and all the residents swore they hadn’t heard or seen a thing. I stood quietly in the desolation, looking back at the footprints that marked our passage to the center of the pit. I shuddered, thinking about the fine gray ash that lay on the ground like talcum powder. ‚I’m not getting any readings,‛ I whispered. I felt nausea and held a hand to my stomach. ‚Angela?‛ His voice seemed to warble in my ears. I couldn’t focus. ‚What the<?‛ There was a ringing in my ears and the world went white. Next thing I knew, I was lying in the back seat of our rental car with my head propped up on my attaché case. The ceiling of the car was blurry, and I realized I wasn’t wearing my glasses. Sherlock was standing outside the open door with what looked like my handheld unit.
‚That hasn’t happened to me for awhile,‛ I rasped. The taste of bile still lingered in my mouth, and I realized I’d been sick. He turned to look at me, and I grimaced. ‚God, I’m sorry to put you through that. I feel so stupid.‛ He patted my shoe and handed me my glasses, which had been resting on the headrest of the passenger seat. ‚Why do you think you reacted like that?‛ he asked me, once again hitting me with an unexpected question. I opened my mouth to say that it was only natural to react that way when you were walking on the ashes of what had once been people. I stopped myself though, rationally considering his question. ‚Actually, I’m not sure,‛ I said honestly. I reached past the driver seat’s and grabbed a bottle of water from the console. ‚I’m just getting a real bad feeling about this.‛ To my surprise he nodded. ‚Let’s make tracks. I just called the office for a satellite aural scan of the area, since our handheld isn’t getting a reading.‛ He closed the door and walked around to the driver’s door while I finished off the bottle of water. Getting in, he started the vehicle and spoke softly, as if to himself. ‚I’m getting a bad feeling about this.‛ ***** ‚Nothing.‛ We both sat in his motel room in front of my laptop computer. The internet connection wasn’t the best here in the foothills, and we had to bite our tongues in impatience a couple times while we were connecting to the foundation’s mainframe back home. Sherlock, for the first time I’d known him, had an unhappy, baffled expression on his face. I didn’t want to admit it made me uncomfortable. ‚This simply isn’t possible,‛ he continued, leaning into the monitor, his hand moving across the mouse pad this way and that to zoom into the satellite imaging of the site. ‚The place has been wiped clean of all auras.‛ He leaned back and stared at the screen, brows furrowed. I leaned forward and tapped the pad. ‚Hmm. This looks sort of familiar.‛ He looked at me with surprise, but remained silent while I thought. I rotated the view of the site, my chin propped up in my palm. ‚Familiar<‛ My eyes glanced over at the numbers scrolling on the right side of the picture, and I snapped my fingers. ‚That’s it!‛ I said excited. Sherlock’s eyebrows went up. ‚The background count. Look at it. It’s way above normal.‛ He glanced at the numerals. ‚It’s elementary, my dear Sherlock!‛ I said, lightly punching his shoulder and laughing.
‚You’ve been wanting to say that for awhile now, haven’t you?‛ he sighed. I grinned and shrugged. ‚Our handheld picks up electromagnetic readings,‛ I continued. ‚The reason we’re not seeing any individual auras is because a more powerful one polarized all the rest. Something like an electromagnetic pulse. Basically, wrote over them.‛ Quickly he tapped a few keys. The image pulled back to show the neighborhood of the site. He engaged a filtration program, and we both stared at the resulting image. ‚Interesting,‛ he said. It wasn’t a random blast of EMP. We stared at what was the largest aura yet. Although the epicenter was the crater we had stood in, the aura easily extended another hundred feet in all directions. We both stared at it awhile, then at each other. ‚I’m almost afraid to signature the aura and track down the creature that’s from,‛ I commented. ‚It’s like a living bomb went off there.‛ His frown remained. He bent down and started tapping on the keyboard, his fingers a blur. Abruptly he stopped, and looked at me again, his frown not quite gone. ‚You owe me dinner. Because I have no doubt in my mind that you sensed that aura, and it was the reason you keeled over.‛ I opened my mouth to argue, but realized it was futile. If Sherlock declared something, he could back it up with pages of data and evaluation. ‚Right, ok,‛ I sighed. ‚Let’s just try to clear up this mystery first, then we’ll worry about getting us something to eat that won’t bother your sensitive stomach.‛ ‚Pretty smug for someone who just lost their lunch at a crime scene,‛ he said, returning his gaze to the computer. But the corner of his mouth finally turned up in a smile. ***** I’d never really had dreams that were memorable. I was no psychologist, but I attributed it to the fact that dreams were the subconscious picking over the events of the day and rationalizing them, puzzling them out for deeper significance. The subconscious worked in metaphors and symbols sometimes, and easily substituted something for another. My dream of the Ferris Wheel symbolizing my fear of helplessly descending into the faceless masses of strangers, as an example. However, I tended to resolve my own problems mentally during my waking hours, leaving my mind nothing to do at night except drift off to sleep. I had no emotional stresses, no intimate relationships, no anxiety. Therefore, an inactive sleeping mind. Well, with the exception of one thing that I tried not to dwell on. So I was mildly surprised when I had another random memorable dream for the second night in a week. It was a black and white dream. I was sitting in a military control center, looking at an old television monitor as klaxons were going off around me, and panicked people were rapidly speaking in Japanese.
‚Commander, we have to evacuate!‛ One of my lab technicians raced up to me wearing an old Japanese military uniform. His eyes were wide in fear. I banged a fist into my palm dramatically, looking off into the distance through the blast-proof command center window. ‚We cannot abandon the city to this menace.‛ I had a heroic look in my eyes, usually reserved for the idiot commanders in science fiction movies that were about to meet their maker within ten minutes. ‚Give the general alarm to evacuate, but I want three volunteers to stay behind. We have to find a way to stop it.‛ The ground shook again, and the subordinate gave the order to abandon the facility. I stood on the roof of the building, my cape blowing gently in the wind. Three anonymous people stood behind me, giving me the most dramatic camera shot. I drew my sword and pointed it to the mountain in the near distance. A tremendous roar shook the air, and something poked its nose around the mountain. This was the point in the dream that Godzilla was supposed to come into view around the mountain and beat its chest, blasting the area with his dragon breath and making a general mess. Instead, the mountain dissolved, and I found myself alone in an ash-filled crater where a home used to exist. So alone. I stood there, feeling the panic rising as I felt the pressure on my mind again. An image formed of a home and family. A blinding instant later, nothingness. The gray masses of strangers surrounded me, not moving. I felt suffocated with them pressed tightly against me. A terrible wail split the air. No one around me seemed to notice the sound, nor the scent of death and decay that nearly overwhelmed me. I screamed. I woke up with another scream on my lips. The bedside lamp had already been switched on. As I squinted to focus my eyes, I saw Sherlock sitting on the sofa facing me wearing boxer shorts and a t-shirt. His fingers were laced together, resting on his lap. His lips went up momentarily in a smile, then they tiredly drooped again. Just seeing him there brought me back to reality, and I mentally thanked him for letting himself in. I slipped on my glasses and mopped beads of moisture from my forehead. My pajamas were soaked through with sweat. ‚I couldn’t sleep well either,‛ he said grimly. ‚This is getting more and more interesting.‛ Interesting was one word for it. Terrifying was another. ‚I want to go back to the site.‛ To my shock, I realized that it was me who’d just spoken. He was silent, his eyes closed. Finally he opened them and looked at me. ‚Yeah,‛ he said. ‚Me too.‛ I nodded. His bleary eyes crinkled, and he got up.
‚In the morning though. We need to sleep if we can.‛ He glanced at the clock and my gaze followed. I saw it was only midnight. I sighed. ‚Mind if I go to sleep on your couch?‛ he asked. I was surprised, but grateful. I didn’t want to be alone after a nightmare like that. But I wondered about his motivation. ‚Spooked?‛ I asked. ‚Or are you doing it for my sake?‛ He smiled wanly. ‚A little of both.‛ I scratched my head and yawned, overwhelmed by fatigue. ‚Couch is stupid. Pull up a blanket and go to sleep.‛ I patted the bed, rolled over, and was fast asleep within a minute. ***** It felt strange having someone beside me as I slept. My body and mind both felt him near. But despite the strangeness, it was the deepest sleep I’d had in ages. Like my very being trusted and accepted him. I woke up that morning and found myself facing him. His face was peaceful, locks of his long blonde hair fallen across it. I resisted the urge to brush them back, instead studying his features. He wasn’t a classic, manly handsome. No square jaw or cleft chin, or strong features. His was a delicate featured face, with a thin nose, pointed chin, thin eyebrows and high cheekbones. I might have mistaken him for a woman, but there was something decidedly masculine about him. There was nothing in his sleeping features that revealed the fact that lying beside me was one of the most brilliant minds in the world. It was odd lying next to a man in bed. Ever since< well, for awhile now I had kept my distance from men. I didn’t want to encourage them to get close. But with him, it seemed like a useless gesture. He knew what I was doing, could probably guess some of the reason behind it, then ignored the space I tried to keep between us like it didn’t apply to him. In a way it was maddening. In another, it excited me. I wondered why I’d asked him to stay in my bed. Granted, I was half asleep at the time, but something like that was a major breach for me. I did NOT encourage anything remotely intimate with anyone, anymore. The answer was there. He made me feel safe and comfortable. I wondered why. I had grown up being self-sufficient and focused, being an orphan. I’d been in one foster home after another, not because I was a problem child, but because the foster parents didn’t know how to deal with a child prodigy who could recite lines from the Iliad in the original Greek at age five. I’d felt alienated from the other kids at the orphanage, and literally lived in the small community library until the public school recommended I join a school for special children, funded by a government scholarship.
I aced the entrance exams and advanced through the schooling rapidly. I was taking university level courses at 14 years and discovered that in addition to languages and the medieval stories I constantly read, I loved the theoretical aspect of physics. Despite my scholarly bent, I also enjoyed fantasy literature. From a young age I’d read such shaggy novels as John Carter of Mars, and the Conan series. And then I ran into Red Sonya, and found a soul sister. Sonya, like me, was an orphan. She was strong and smart, and lived by a rigid code of honor. She depended on no one but herself, and belonged to no one. Enamored, I decided to be as much like her as I could. In addition to academic courses, the special school had many extracurricular lessons available to the students, giving them free reign to broaden their minds. I decided to take gymnastics, kendo and karate. It turned out I was gifted in physical areas too. I had raised myself to be independent. So, looking at this young face beside me, I wondered why I felt so much safer with him near. I looked at his smile, his lips curled up like a cat. ‚Good morning,‛ he said without opening his eyes. His lips curled up more. ‚I just realized who you look like to me,‛ I said quietly. ‚One of Tolkien’s elves, from his Lord of the Rings books. No pointy ears though.‛ He opened his eyes, and I looked into deep brown irises. ‚And you’re an Amazon,‛ he said with a smile. ‚That flashed through my mind the first time I saw you. You’ve trained in martial arts, and there’s more muscle under the surface that most people would guess.‛ I was surprised. I guess I shouldn’t have been, considering it was Sherlock. He was probably the only one who had that attention to detail. I thought back to my role model, Sonya. We shared another, darker aspect, one I didn’t like to think about. Suddenly I started to remember things I’d wish I hadn’t. My mind went down avenues I didn’t want to travel. I closed my eyes against the pain, and opened them again, I’m sure with a look of anguish. Sherlock blinked, looking away. He had seen the change in my expression, but had the good sense to not try to comfort me. I wondered if he had read my mind, and decided he’d drop the subject before it got into dangerous waters. ‚Time to get up,‛ he said, rolling out of bed. I watched him stand and stretch, still confused by my emotions and memories. ‚Meet you out at the car in half an hour. Breakfast is on you, since you didn’t get us dinner.‛ He waved as he walked to the door in his t-shirt and boxers and went outside, heading for his room. I sat up in bed and watched the door close behind him. I stayed still for a couple moments, staring at the door. I shook my head and moved to get up. However, my hand touched the warmth in the bed where he had been. I clenched my hand in the sheets, feeling their texture. Leaning down, I self-consciously
sniffed the pillow he had used. His scent was there, definitely that of a man. I put my cheek against it, testing myself for some kind of negative reaction. ‚Idiot,‛ I mumbled to myself, realizing what I was doing. Resolutely, I drew back the covers, got out of bed and headed for the shower.
CHAPTER 3 – A MEETING OF OLD FRIENDS We headed for the diner on the outskirts of town. He must have felt my eyes drifting his way a couple times as he drove. His lips curled up more and more as we traveled. Finally, he laughed. ‚Alright, you’re starting to make me self-conscious. Do I have a piece of toilet paper stuck in my ear?‛ I ignored his humor. ‚When I first met you, I thought you were young. Maybe in your mid-twenties.‛ I stared at him. ‚Now I’m not so sure.‛ He chuckled. ‚You’re right, I’m not in my twenties. Just a touch older.‛ For some reason, my emotions went into turmoil again, almost as if I was glad he wasn’t so much younger than me. I thought about it, not saying anything. I wanted to ask his age, but that was definitely a question that overstepped the boundaries. Between two single people of the opposite gender, it was a clear sign that one was interested in the other’s acceptability as a mate. I might have been writing too much Freudian analysis into it, but it was enough to frighten me a bit. He pulled into the parking lot of the diner. Stopping the car, he turned it off and turned to me. ‚Angela, I find you very refreshing to be around. Whether you were a man or a woman, I’d admire you for your directness and honesty. You’re wondering whether I’m older than you, and the answer is yes.‛ I felt heat come to my face. Once again, he had bypassed that ‚safe space‛ I had created between myself and a man. He faced back to the steering wheel, leaning back in his seat. ‚You’re wondering whether I find you attractive.‛ My heart skipped a beat. This was going too fast for me to react. He looked out the windshield. ‚We’ve been spending a lot of time together recently, and we’ve learned a lot about each other.‛ He looked back at me again. ‚I do find you attractive. But you and I both know there are issues in our pasts that we have to resolve.‛ He smiled sadly. ‚I’m sorry. Once again, I skipped all the small talk and came directly to the point.‛
I opened my door and got out, the cool mountain air revitalizing me, touching on my hot cheeks. He couldn’t have found me attractive. It wasn’t possible. There was nothing about me that was attractive, and I was the first person to admit it. I didn’t know whether to stay here, or go running into the forest to reassemble my thoughts and dignity. He waited patiently, looking off towards the mountains while I collected myself. Finally I tapped the roof of the car, and he turned and started toward the diner. ‚I don’t deny I find you fascinating,‛ I said, walking beside him. ‚But I don’t know if I’m attracted to you in that way. Or anyone else, for that matter.‛ I drew in a breath and looked at him. We both stopped. He had a lock of hair hanging down the side of his face, and I felt the urge to brush it back. Much to my surprise, my hand rose and pushed it back over his ear. His brown eyes twinkled as he held the door for me. I don’t want to hurt you, I thought with an edge of dread. I couldn’t live with the thought of hurting someone again. Of having to hurt someone again. ‚I appreciate your candor,‛ he said quietly. ***** The place was packed. There were only ten tables in the entire diner, and Sherlock and I were lucky enough to get the last unoccupied one. We sat down and looked at the menu, and my stomach growled. ‚Even your stomach is honest,‛ he chuckled. I pouted, feeling the emptiness in my gut. But his comment had put me back at ease. The bell on the door clanged, and another couple entered. Like us, they seemed overdressed for the small town. He wore a light cream dress jacket, slacks and a fedora, and she wore a dark blue business jacket and skirt, a sunhat masking her face in shadow. They looked around, realizing the place was crowded. Sherlock stood up and waved at them, much to my surprise. Their eyes fixed on him, and the woman’s hat came up and off, her brilliant smile lighting the place up. ‚Franklin Riley!‛ she said as they drew closer. ‚Gods, I never thought I’d see you again after the Whitechapel fiasco.‛ ‚Charlotte Meyers,‛ he said, pulling her into a hug, drawing stares from most everyone in the diner. She was, simply, the most beautiful woman I’d ever met. I felt a spark of resentment as they embraced, her silver hair mingling with his straw blonde. She smiled as they parted, and she raised her left hand, displaying a glittering gold ring. ‚Charlotte Crenshaw now,‛ she said. ‚Franklin, meet Alex, my husband.‛ ‚No way,‛ Sherlock said, looking at Alex with an expression of surprise. ‚You found him, finally!‛ He raised a hand. ‚I’m so happy to meet you, Alex.‛
My attention drifted to the man with her, who had doffed his hat. He, too, had the most wonderful silver hair and golden eyes, his features the same fine chiseling as Sherlock. They could easily have been mistaken for brothers. They shook hands. The man smiled, and once again the diner lit up. It was like a wave of benevolence rushed over me. Despite my resolve, I moved near enough to Sherlock that we touched. ‚This is Angela Weaver,‛ he said with a smile at me. They both looked at me. Once again, I felt my blood rush as these two beautiful people focused their attention on my homely features. ‚Hello,‛ I said with a blush. ‚Sit down,‛ Sherlock motioned to the table. ‚I have a feeling it’s not coincidence that you two are in this neck of the woods.‛ Charlotte shook her head grimly, while Alex shrugged. Sherlock laughed. ‚Have something to eat. Maybe that’ll loosen your tongues.‛ ***** We ordered, chatted and ate for an hour. The two strangers were wonderful people. They were definitely a matched set, deeply in love with each other. They seemed to know each other so perfectly, they would finish sentences for each other, or exchange volumes in one glance. Occasionally Sherlock would nudge me, and I’d see them do some cute couple thing, like feeding each other a French fry, or brushing the other with a finger. Finally, I couldn’t resist, and asked them. ‚So, how long have you two known each other?‛ Alex began to laugh, while Charlotte glanced at Sherlock with a question in her eyes. Apparently, whatever she saw there influenced her answer. ‚Oh, Alex and I have known each other for many years,‛ she said. I noticed she had a lovely European accent, although I couldn’t place it, even with my linguistics background. ‚We lost touch with each other for a long time, but just met again last year. We married soon afterward.‛ I looked at Alex, and he smiled. ‚Many, many years.‛ Charlotte elbowed him, and he laughed. He looked at her, leaned over and whispered in her ear. She raised an eyebrow. ‚Really?‛ she said with surprise. They exchanged glances and her expression softened again. ‚Well, well, well,‛ she said, staring at Sherlock, amusement in her eyes. Sherlock sighed, getting up. ‚You know I hate it when you do that,‛ he said. ‚Shall we adjourn to ground zero then?‛ asked Alex with a smile.
I was shocked, glancing at Sherlock, then back at the two. I didn’t need to ask what he meant. ‚You’re going to the site too?‛ Alex nodded. ‚You probably need a ride, if I’m not mistaken,‛ said Sherlock. ‚That would be lovely,‛ said Charlotte in her enchanting accent. ‚We’re still recovering from the flight.‛ ***** The crater was still there, with its fine coating of ash. The aura was still in the area, and I could feel it now like a physical presence weighing the back of my mind. This time I was prepared for it, and fought the effect much better. Alex and Charlotte wandered around the hole, not saying a word to each other. They walked with their hands together like a couple in love. Once again I felt a feeling of envy, and looked at Sherlock. He was watching the two with a sad smile. ‚I don’t feel nearly as frightened with those two here,‛ I admitted to him finally, drawing close. ‚It’s like they’re a barrier between the bad juju and us.‛ Sherlock looked at me with surprise. ‚I like them both,‛ I continued, standing beside him and looking at the couple. ‚There’s something about them that sets me at ease.‛ ‚They’re old hands at the paranormal,‛ he said with a chuckle. ‚They probably already have this figured out, and are just enjoying the scenery together.‛ ‚Paranormal?‛ I looked at him with surprise. ‚You’re joking, right?‛ ‚No, not really. I told you some people could sense auras, didn’t I?‛ He paused. ‚Charlotte is able to pick out minor details from auras. Apparently, her husband is much better.‛ I looked at the couple again. They were over a hundred feet away in the underbrush, their heads close together. ‚They don’t strike me as being paranormal researchers.‛ He laughed again. ‚No, I guess they wouldn’t.‛ I watched them walk further into the woods. ‚I like them both,‛ I repeated. I couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed it wasn’t just Sherlock and myself at the site. And my alarm bells rang again, telling me I was softening toward this man. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. He caught the look and smiled. ‚They seem to have that effect on people.‛ He put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed, then walked a short distance from me. I was galvanized. His touch on my shoulder had sent an immediate energy rush of energy and confusion through my body, and my skin tingled all over. Just a single touch.
If I had half a brain, I’d put an end to this right here and now. Tell him I didn’t feel comfortable with his intimate touch, and ask him not to do it again. But I felt like a schoolgirl again, frustrated and directionless. I was rooted to the spot, unable to focus on anything. It was then that the hammer came down, hard enough to make me wince and stagger. I felt something in the air, a cold chill as the grave. A nauseating stench of death and decay washed over me. I retched, holding one of my hands to my mouth, the other to my stomach. ‚Angela?‛ Concern in his voice. Not again. I staggered as another wave crashed through me. Suddenly it stopped, like someone had turned on a light against the darkness. Alex stood directly in front of me, his hands holding mine. Charlotte was standing beside him with her eyes closed. ‚Are you alright now?‛ asked the silver-haired man. I nodded with surprise, amazed at how normal I felt. After an attack like this, I was usually violently ill and passed out. He smiled and looked past me. I realized someone was holding me gently from behind, and I smelled the familiar scent. ‚You’re perfectly safe,‛ said Alex, releasing my hands. ‚They won’t dare return here with Charlotte and myself openly present.‛ ‚How are you feeling?‛ asked Sherlock, his chest vibrating against my back as he spoke. ‚What<‛ I licked my lips, and started again. ‚What was that?‛ Charlotte turned to look at me. She thought about it, then shrugged. ‚Hunter and Hound.‛ She frowned. ‚They’ve been in the area for awhile.‛ My heart froze as a horrible sound echoed through the woods. It was a sound I’d hoped I’d never hear again. The wailing of the nightmare creature from my Godzilla dream. I cringed and whimpered, Sherlock’s arms squeezing me gently. Alex and Charlotte looked at each other without concern. The silver haired woman nodded, and he touched her arm gently with a long-fingered hand. ‚It appears,‛ said Alex to Sherlock, ‚your Angela is a Sensitive.‛ His hand patted mine. ‚Welcome to a larger scarier world, young lady.‛ ***** ‚I’m disgusted with myself,‛ I said, grinding my teeth in frustration. Alex and Charlotte had elected to stay behind at the site while Sherlock and I headed back to the safety of the motel. ‚I can’t believe how this is affecting me. The aura, then the howling noise freaking me out.‛ Sherlock continued driving silently.
I thought about the last time I’d been so boneless scared. It was that night< of my attack. And the days that followed. Wilson Pettibridge. Flailing fist and blood. Pain and starbursts of light and twisting blurring images. I winced, feeling my stomach roiling. A palm driven with force against a nose. A crunching sound of broken cartilage and bone, twin motions of light reflecting on metal. Death. ‚STOP!‛ I coughed. ‚STOP THE CAR!‛ Sherlock glanced over with wide eyes, saw I was starting to heave, and quickly maneuvered the car to the edge of the road. I hardly waited for us to stop before the passenger door flew open, and I was on all fours on the gravel shoulder, retching. I kneeled there for awhile, feeling ashamed. What must he think of me, standing there near me, watching me get sick? Did he think I was a weak, timid little girl who would cry at the slightest provocation? ‚You done?‛ he asked softly, once again surprising me by not asking the obvious question of whether I was alright. ‚Yeah,‛ I said weakly. I got to my feet, half expecting him to lend a helping hand. Instead, he stood off a short distance, looking at me with interest. ‚You’re full of surprises,‛ he said, handing me one of our water bottles. ‚A Sensitive.‛ He chuckled, looking a little embarrassed. ‚I never would have guessed.‛ I gargled some water and spat it out. Another quick swallow of water and I felt enormously better. ‚So what’s that mean?‛ I asked, hopping up onto the hood of the car and dangling my feet. I was still feeling drained, and my head hung between my shoulders. He scratched his head and shrugged. ‚Well, consider a Sensitive being the human equivalent of your handheld aura unit.‛ He smiled, looking a little guilty. ‚I have to admit something to you, Angela. When I first joined your project, I was a little curious about your technology, wondering if you really had found a way to detect and analyze something that mystics and others had been able to sense for millions of years.‛ I looked at him with surprise. ‚Well,‛ he said with embarrassment, ‚it was a shock. Your project is sort of a parallel evolution to Sensitives. In some ways, it’s superior. In other ways, inferior. ‚You, Angela, are one of the rare people who are able to hear that high-pitched television whine. I’m guessing it was a latent talent that had never awoken because you’d never needed it.‛ He paused, his eyes getting that faraway look as he pondered a theory. ‚But being around all those crime scene auras may have started to bring it out. And the intensity of this signature could be the final catalyst.‛ I leaned back, staring up at the sky. My mind was in a whirl. His excitement, my confusion. The vision of Wilson Pettibridge staring at me through a broken face. A Ferris wheel in darkness. A giant hound-wolf coming around a mountain.
I looked over at Sherlock. His wavy blonde hair hung over his shoulders, lying softly on his crimson cape and gold armor. I blinked away the smoke and mists in surprise, and saw him looking at me, his appearance back to normal. ‚Take me to the motel,‛ I groaned. ‚I’m definitely not feeling well.‛ ***** I wasn’t back in my motel room for more than two minutes before I was collapsed on my bed and deep in sleep. My body just gave out on me, and my mind dropped into a pit of blackness. I was aware Sherlock was sitting on the couch nearby as I drifted away, but it didn’t help what I knew was coming. Horror of the unknown crept into my thoughts as I clawed my way through the abyss, encountering nothing but nothingness itself. Images of murder scenes and dismembered corpses floated across my vision. I mentally screamed as the visage of a man with a broken face loomed up at me, clutching his bowels to keep his intestines inside. Abruptly there was comfort and safety again. I wasn’t surprised in the least when I turned and saw Alex standing there. His feel was unmistakable. My vision stabilized, first around his form, slowly spreading away from him like a ripple on a pond. He stood far away from me on a rocky outcrop on a hill, his jacket blowing in the wind, fedora pulled low over his face. He was facing partly away from me, gazing at something in the distance. I turned and looked. To my horror, I found myself staring once again at the mountain from my dream. Feeling weak with terror, I ran to where Alex stood unflinching in the stiff breeze. ‚To the east, love,‛ I heard him say as I got closer. ‚The traces are hard to track beyond the mountains.‛ I slowed as I approached him, his silver hair poking out from beneath his hat. He was intent, not noticing me. To my utter shock I heard Charlotte’s reply out of thin air. ‚Aye, the spoor is lost in the mountains,‛ she said, almost angrily. ‚Whoever this Hunter and Hound are, they are not stupid. They are covering their tracks well after leaving such a clear trail back in that town.‛ I was close enough to see him smiling. Without opening his mouth, I heard his next words echo in my mind. ‚We’d better return. I’m worried about the Sensitive. She’s just started to awaken, and a raw mind like hers is a delicacy to these beasts.‛ ‚I’d have to agree,‛ said Charlotte’s disembodied voice. ‚I can siphon off some of her excess energies for now, and you can shield her aura, but soon she will become fully awakened. She’ll need to be able to hide herself when that happens.‛ I felt them exchange their love, awestruck by its intensity. They were two such different powerful personalities. He was all light and beauty, love and caring. She was dark and powerful, vengeful and fearless. Together, their emotions were terrible and fierce in their glory. I couldn’t help but step back and hold my hands to my mouth, choking back my emotion at the beauty of their synergy.
What could possibly have brought two such different personalities together? And why were they so compatible? ***** I awoke to find Sherlock passed out on my couch. The sun had moved across the drawn drapes slightly. I guessed it was late afternoon. I sat up on the bed and bent over, my hair falling over my face. What an extraordinary dream. I brushed my hair back, squinting at Sherlock, not really focusing on him but thinking of where my mind had been. I felt moved by the strength of my vision. It was the same feeling one gets from watching an action movie, or reading a stirring book. I felt energized, like I could do a million one-handed pushups, or punch a hole in a concrete wall. I felt alive. The Ferris wheel had started moving again, and I was climbing away from the grey mass of strangeness and humanity. Sherlock awoke sometime during my reverie. He studied my expression as I stared blankly at him, my mind in distant places. ‚Hunter and Hound,‛ I mumbled, startling myself out of my fugue. He nodded. ‚A Sensitive is like a delicacy to them. What does that mean?‛ I asked him. He didn’t question my knowledge. He just stared at me intently, and nodded again. ‚It means right now you are generating a feedback loop in your aura that is like a beacon to them. Your strong emotions heavily flavor your life force, and there are those who can leech this from you like vampires. Without your life force powering your body, every cell in your body dies, no electrical current exists in your nerves. The binding energy in your very molecules is drained.‛ He looked at me grimly. ‚You become dust, and your spirit is extinguished.‛ ‚Oh,‛ I said, looking away. ‚That doesn’t sound good.‛ He got up and stretched, hands clasped above his head as he leaned backward. ‚You’re taking this remarkably calmly, considering your whole concept of the universe just shifted gears within the last few hours.‛ He looked at me suspiciously. ‚It’s quite possible you’re in shock at the moment.‛ I examined my feelings, considering whether he might be right. ‚Actually, I’m fine.‛ I got up and walked over to the window, drawing the drapes open and staring outside at the mountains. ‚I seem to be adapting to this situation well.‛ I looked at the forest and sighed. ‚Awakenings are usually triggered by traumatic experiences. Usually a death of a loved one, or a life or death situation. It’s very unusual and rare to be a Sensitive, Angela, so I’m glad I could be here for you.‛ I sensed his next thought before he spoke it. ‚It wasn’t the monster aura that started this,‛ I answered him. ‚My traumatic experience was life and death, and it was six months ago.‛
A vision grew in my mind. A face of a man, a sad excuse for a human being. I realized I had to tell Sherlock my story. ‚Did you know it’s physically impossible to drive someone’s nose bone into their brain?‛ I smiled. ‚You read it all the time in fiction, or see it in the movies. Granted, you can mess someone up pretty good by applying a flat palm to the bridge of their nose, but there is too much bone structure in the skull between nose and brain, and too far a distance.‛ He was quiet, letting me speak. ‚Of course, I knew that.‛ I chuckled. ‚I’m a 5th dan black belt in karate and a go-dan kendoka. But it didn’t stop me from trying.‛ I heard the edge of hysteria creep into my voice. I stood silently for a minute, wondering if I had the strength to tell the tale to Sherlock. He was motionless on the couch. I sat on the bed and stared at the floor, deciding. ‚When Wilson Pettibridge clubbed me from behind into unconsciousness in a parkade and threw me into the trunk of his car, I never knew the potential I had for violence. I mean, I know I had trained myself and what I was capable of, but I never thought I would use it in anger on someone. I shuddered, feeling my stomach get acidic. I was going to be sick. ‚I woke up naked and bloody in a small windowless room with no furniture. I had been cut on my body, my arms and legs, and I knew without a doubt that I’d been sexually violated while unconscious.‛ My stomach wanted to empty itself, but I continued. ‚There was one metal door into the room, no windows. I sat there with my wounds for over a day, waiting for the monster to show. No water, no food. No cloth or sheets or anything to bind my wounds or cover myself. I had to< void myself in a corner of the room. I had dropped off to sleep a couple times, waking at the slightest hint of noise. Finally, the sound of footsteps outside, and the door opened. ‚A man entered the room with a machete. He was about my height, much heavier. His face was< evil. I knew he was the scum who’d done this to me. ‚I didn’t even think. Before he knew what had happened, I’d sprung at him, kneed him in the crotch, stepped inside his guard and drove my palm into his face.‛ I stared at my clenched fist and laughed, a wavering tittering sound. It scared me a bit. ‚You might not be able to drive a nose into a brain, but you should never underestimate what a 5th degree black belt can do with an open hand.‛ I had broken his nose and blinded him, crushing part of his cheek bones and snapping his head back. With a twist and twirl, I claimed the machete from his broken hand. Then my kendo kicked in. Without thinking, I performed a double slash across his abdomen and disemboweled him. I stared at Sherlock, my eyes burning with tears. He crossed over to me and wrapped his arms around me. His warmth and strength comforted me, and the sick feeling in my stomach settled. I sobbed into his shoulder.
‚I’m so glad, Angela,‛ he said, rubbing my back, ‚that you really were that warrior woman I saw when I first met you.‛ I pressed my face into his chest, relieved he wasn’t horrified by my story. The FBI hadn’t locked me away either. Pettibridge’s actions against me fit the M.O. of a serial killer they’d been hunting for over two years. The evidence of his crimes were enshrined in his apartment< the index fingers of over two dozen murdered women in a velvet case under his bed. I knew that secretly the man heading the investigation had been happy that his quarry had ended up as a corpse instead of imprisoned for life. Still, despite all the justification that should have cleared my mind, I couldn’t avoid seeing the face of this man in my dreams. The expression of horrified outrage in his eyes as I erased his existence. I shuddered, and Sherlock gripped me tighter. ‚Knock knock,‛ said a male voice outside the door. The doorknob turned, and in strode Charlotte, followed closely by Alex. I felt serenity wash over me as they entered. With a burst of insight, I suddenly understood something. I stood away from Sherlock and looked at them. ‚You two aren’t human, are you?‛ I asked them. Two pairs of silver eyebrows rose. ‚That was a remarkable deduction,‛ said Sherlock, dropping his arms and looking at me with amazement. ‚She is, after all a Sensitive,‛ laughed Alex. Charlotte had a worried look. Why wasn’t this freaking me out? ‚Angela,‛ said Charlotte, her pretty accent grave. ‚I’m going to be leeching some of your energy from you over the next few hours. This will help keep your signature below the radar. Do you understand?‛ I looked at her, focusing on her solemn expression. Another thought passed through my mind and came out before I could stop it. ‚You’re a Hunter, aren’t you?‛ It was met by dead silence. ‚And you,‛ I looked at Alex. A word popped into my brain, and I voiced it. ‚Warder.‛ ‚Franklin,‛ said Charlotte, her eyes on me but speaking to Sherlock. ‚She’s accelerating. Alex and I will need to apply ourselves. Can you be our errand boy for the next few hours?‛ Sherlock nodded, looking at me with amazement. ‚I didn’t mention a thing,‛ he said. ‚She’s picking concepts out of your minds.‛ I looked at him with narrowed eyes, and he chuckled. ‚Good luck getting anything from me, now that I know what you’re doing.‛ He smirked. The image of his bright smile stayed in my mind. I saw the golden armor and crimson cloak again, and now a shining silver sword buckled at his waist. ‚Don’t be so sure,‛ I said. A symbol was clearly visible on the breastplate, that of a chalice with rays surrounding it.
***** We were all in my motel room. Alex was sitting on the couch watching the television while Charlotte was puttering around in the kitchenette I never thought I’d use. Sherlock was out grocery shopping. I sat beside Alex, feeling the good vibrations that rolled off him. ‚What is this strange glow around us?‛ I asked him finally during a commercial break. He looked at me, shaking his head with disbelief. ‚You can see the ward? Amazing.‛ ‚Ward,‛ I repeated. ‚Think of it like a force field, like in science fiction.‛ He rubbed his temple. ‚Warders can project a ward with force of will. Depending on our need, we can increase strength to it, making it impervious to physical attacks, the elements, or mystical incursion.‛ I studied the glow, noticing the dark tendril that slipped through it from myself to Charlotte. ‚There are exceptions,‛ I commented. ‚That umbilical cord between Charlotte and me being one.‛ The sound of movement stopped in the kitchenette. The silver-haired woman turned and looked at me. ‚You see my energy tap?‛ I nodded. ‚It’s not as obvious as Alex’s shielding, but it’s there, weaving through the light like a dark snake.‛ Both of them gave each other significant glances. ‚I didn’t notice your abilities until after you sent Sherlock off,‛ I said in response to their unspoken thoughts. ‚Then I just started noticing more and more as time went by.‛ ‚Why now, of all possible times?‛ said Charlotte, exasperated. ‚This is most inconvenient.‛ Alex smiled at me, noticing my discomfort at her words. ‚She’s not mad at you, Angela. She’s concerned about others in the area who may discover you’re here. You are a very tempting target for them. They may decide to gather more forces so they can come back and overwhelm us and claim you.‛ I shuddered, pulling my knees up to my chest. ‚Moving you away from here would seem like the best idea. Could you take a break away from work for a week?‛ WORK! I looked at him, horrified by my forgetfulness. I should have reported in by now. I quickly got up and walked over to the desk where my laptop was set up. I hit the link to sign onto the head office’s main server.
‚Sorry, I should have reported into work hours ago,‛ I said to them, adjusting my glasses. ‚I head a research department that detects and analyzes the electrical signatures of auras. They’ve been waiting for the results on my fieldwork at the crater.‛ I tapped my finger on the desk, waiting for the slow internet connection to catch up. The sound of footsteps came from outside. Alex tilted his head, then looked at Charlotte, who looked at me. Sherlock was coming, and he was unsettled. The key fumbled in the lock, and the door opened. ‚National news,‛ he said as he came inside. He glanced at the clock. It was five minutes to the hour. He dumped his groceries on the table and saw I was at my laptop. He nodded gravely, and thumped himself onto the couch beside Alex. They exchanged glances, and focused on the TV. I cursed at my internet connection. My laptop was state of the art, so there were no problems on my end. It was this cheap dial-up piece of crap the motel passed off as internet. The server didn’t want to connect. I flicked over to my Physics News Weekly site, which popped up remarkably fast, then switched back to trying to reconnect to my lab server. Nothing. The server wasn’t scheduled for maintenance on a Thursday night. Odd. ‚Disaster strikes in California,‛ came the newcast. ‚A government facility outside Los Angeles is struck by an explosion of volatile chemicals, destroying the facility and creating a huge crater. The death toll is estimated in the hundreds.‛ I felt my eyes swivel of their own volition, bringing the television into focus. The scene on the television was devastation. I numbly watched the images filmed by the helicopter crew, listening to the newscast as the dispassionate male voice rambled on. ‚Officials with the government have no comment, other than the chemicals that ignited have no lingering environmental effect. Since the facility was located far from any residences, no one else has been harmed other than those already at the site.‛ I got up and walked over to the couch, plopping down. ‚Families of the employees are gathering at the scene, however it is not suspected that there are any survivors of this horrific disaster.‛ ‚I shouldn’t think so,‛ said Charlotte, who stood behind the three of us. The images on the screen showed smooth ashen crater, very much like the one here in town. I felt chills go up and down my spine as I stared at what once had been my facility. ‚The disaster struck sometime between 9 a.m. and noon today. It’s estimated that 325 staff members were on hand when the explosion ripped through the facility, destroying everything in its path.‛ ‚How many words do you think they have for ‘destruction’?‛ I wondered out loud, still in shock. God, all the deaths. The crater itself was a three hundred yard diameter hole in the bedrock. It’s no wonder they thought it was an explosion. But the only chemicals we kept on hand at the facility were cleaning solvents and whatever the cafeteria was
serving that day. I was disgusted at my sense of humor, considering what had happened. ‚That wasn’t the act of a single individual,‛ said Charlotte, turning and walking back to the table to unload groceries. ‚That was a concerted effort. They were after something. Or someone.‛ After me? No, that didn’t jive. If they wanted me, they could have grabbed me any time they wanted, without destroying my facility. I just couldn’t believe the coincidence that had me and Sherlock out of town when the hammer had fallen back home. ‚Uh oh,‛ said Sherlock. All eyes turned on him, and he had an embarrassed smile. ‚I just realized we were duped.‛ Alex and Charlotte frowned, but I was only a step behind him. ‚You mean, they created this situation here to get us away from home base?‛ I asked. ‚Yes.‛ He looked at me. ‚Angela, what have you been researching for months now?‛ ‚The analysis and comparison of aura signatures.‛ ‚I see,‛ said Charlotte darkly, exchanging glances with her husband. Sherlock crossed his hands behind his head and leaned back, looking at me past Alex. ‚It’s a new science, and we’re barely scratched the surface. However, it had one distinct ability that might make it invaluable to certain parties.‛ I sat there, running the specs of the software and machinery through my mind. ‚Hmm< well, your additions to the research project made it much more valuable. It can point out mineral deposits now, or tectonic fault lines in stress. Or it can find them ideal partners, or<‛ I paused, ‚vice versa< worst enemies.‛ ‚What?!‛ said Charlotte and Alex simultaneously, a little sharply. I looked at Alex beside me. ‚Sherlock adapted the software so it detects aura harmonics. Basically, you can simulate a virtual dating service by analyzing one person’s aura, then using the satellite uplink to filter through the world population for someone whose aura is compatible. Of course, you could also use the filters to search for a virtually incompatible aura. Someone who was potentially your worst enemy.‛ Alex’s face turned white. ‚You have a satellite uplink that lets you find auras?‛ I shrugged. ‚Well, the facility that got destroyed had a dedicated uplink to the satellites, but you could adapt any ground transmitter/receiver dish if you have the proper codes, software and aura scanning unit.‛ ‚Gods, this isn’t good,‛ said Charlotte from the kitchen. ‚Word of your research must have leaked to the Conclave. Of course they’d hit your facility while you two were out of town.‛
‚See, I don’t get that,‛ I said. ‚That doesn’t make any sense. I’m not a threat to them. God knows I couldn’t stop them. Why wait ‘til I was away from the facility before they destroy it? In fact, why destroy it at all?‛ She looked at me blankly. Sherlock butted in. ‚Actually, it’s not too farfetched,‛ he said. ‚If they knew the developer of the technology was out of town, they could destroy the equipment and facility with impunity before the project fell into enemy hands, then pick you up later at their convenience so they could use you.‛ ‚Use me?‛ I asked. ‚I repeat, why would they care?‛ There was silence. All three of them were quiet, not looking at anything. I waited patiently. Alex was the one who spoke. ‚For a very long time, Hunters and Warders have been racial enemies. We’ve been a thorn in each others’ sides for ages. Warders thwart their experiments on mankind, and protect life as much as we can from them.‛ ‚We are not all beasts,‛ said Charlotte, chopping vegetables. ‚It doesn’t have to come to blows, but it always does.‛ She smiled sadly at Alex, and he returned the smile. ‚But there are those of us who somehow avoid the blood rage.‛ ‚So why don’t they call a truce and try to get along?‛ I wondered. ‚It’s not just an attitude adjustment,‛ said Sherlock. ‚There is a fundamental difference in wiring between Hunters and Warders. A sort of alchemy that forces them to fight against one another to the death, the blood rage Charlotte mentioned. If a Hunter and Warder meet, it builds up inside them until they come to blows. ‚There was a balance between the two sides for a long, long time. The irresistible weapon versus the impenetrable shield. Bouts between enemies were often long matches, or short and furious. But in the end, it balanced. ‚Then, the Hounds,‛ said Alex sadly. ‚The balance faltered. Warders can use their shielding to hide themselves and their location from Hunters. In effect, an invisibility cloak. Hounds were created from Second Born Guardians, of the same blood as Warders. They can penetrate our illusions and see that which we are hiding.‛ ‚However, even the Hounds can’t sniff out something unless they are close to it.‛ Charlotte scooped up chopped lettuce and threw it into a bowl. ‚Which means, to this point, the Stronghold of the Warders has been safe.‛ Stronghold. I closed my eyes and sighed. ‚This is becoming less and less like reality, and more like fantasy,‛ I complained. ‚Two factions of non-humans, with two bastions of power. Diametrically opposed, wanting nothing more than to annihilate each other.‛ I shook my head. ‚You mentioned the Hounds were of ‘Guardian’ blood. Why haven’t the Warders created their own version of Hound from ‘Mutator’ blood to even the field?‛ All three pairs of eyes swiveled on me. I stared back, waiting for an answer.
‚I don’t believe any of us mentioned the word ‘Mutator’, up to this point.‛ If Charlotte had been a dog, her hackles would have been standing on end. I held up a hand to stop anyone else from speaking. ‚This is getting a little weird,‛ I said slowly. I lifted my gaze upward, to the ceiling of the motel room. ‚It just popped into my head as I was looking for it. And it definitely came from you.‛ I tilted my head over and looked at the silver-haired woman. ‚Reading people’s surface thoughts without their consent is considered bad form,‛ she answered with a frown. ‚Delving into their memories is an even larger breach of etiquette. Supper’s on the table everyone.‛ We adjourned to the kitchen. I felt embarrassed at probing Charlotte’s thoughts, even by accident. ‚Listen, I’m sorry,‛ I said as we sat down to eat. ‚I don’t mean to do that. It’s just overwhelming me. Random thoughts popping into my mind. I’m not even sure if they’re my thoughts or not.‛ ‚It’s what we call an Awakening,‛ Alex said around a mouthful of salad. ‚Your mind has just realized that it has lain dormant, and it’s testing its abilities and limitations now, without your participation. It’s natural for all Sensitives.‛ ‚The overwhelming part is the acceleration process,‛ said Sherlock. ‚Your mind picks up one thing, then immediately moves on to the next concept while you try to grasp what it just learned. It creates a psychic feedback loop.‛ He rubbed his chin while I looked at him, waiting for his clarification. ‚It’s like a whole bunch of gongs in an endless line. You hit the first one. Just as you are starting to understand the tone and sound of it, the next one is hit. You’re still trying to listen to the first gong, then move on to listen to the second one as the third is hit. Eventually, your mind has to work faster to keep up.‛ It didn’t sound very pleasant. ‚Sounds like a recipe for a migraine,‛ I said sardonically. ‚If you’re lucky,‛ Charlotte smiled, delicately taking a piece of lettuce of the end of her fork. ‚You probably won’t be getting any sleep tonight. Your mind will be racing, and you won’t be able to focus on much because most of your subconscious will be processing information.‛ She speared another bit of salad, but stopped before she raised her fork from the plate. ‚It has driven some people insane, Angela.‛ ‚Probably not in your case,‛ Alex said with a smile. ‚Charlotte’s energy drain slows the frantic nature of your mind trying to grasp concepts. It should allow more focus. My shielding will stop your poor mind from resonating too much distress to those outside this room.‛ ‚You have to be kidding,‛ I said, leaning my head back and looking at the ceiling. ‚I’m going to be broadcasting?‛ Sherlock laughed, Alex smiled and Charlotte shrugged. ‚How long is this going to last?‛ I asked them.
‚Now that’s the interesting question,‛ said Sherlock. ‚It’s the tenacity of your mind that determines it.‛ He seemed much too excited for my liking. ‚Weak minds usually give out fairly quick. These end up being weaker Sensitives. Their minds don’t get a chance to explore their potential. ‚On the other hand, those with strong minds may last for hours, even half a day before they are overwhelmed and collapse. People that hold on for that long become aura sensitive, able to recognize auras and read events in areas. It’s truly a remarkable thing.‛ I sighed. ‚I guess I really don’t have a say in this,‛ I muttered. ‚I’d just like to know one thing< why me?‛ ‚You must have been a tyrant in a past life,‛ laughed Sherlock. ‚Try to relax. It will be a marathon session, but you’ll be fine.‛ ***** I stared at the ceiling of my darkened motel room, lying in bed. I looked over at Sherlock, who was comfortably entrenched in a recliner. He was reading a physics journal that I had brought along on the trip. Alex and Charlotte were in Sherlock’s room getting some rest, although her ‘tap’ and his ward were still present. I wondered how Sherlock knew so much about people like the Hunter and Warder. Charlotte had mentioned something about seeing him in Whitechapel. The name sounded familiar for some reason, like a British place name. Franklin Sherlock Riley. He hung motionless in my squinted vision, unmoving, even his breathing stopped. As I lie there with my head propped up on a pillow, hands folded comfortably upon my stomach, I examined him critically. He knew too much. He didn’t radiate the same intensity as Alex or Charlotte, but there was something he was hiding. I had noticed the similarity in appearance between him and the Warder, and could even see some likeness between Charlotte and him. But where Alex and Charlotte both wore their emotions openly and were easy to read, Sherlock was a mystery. Was he like them – a non-human mystic of some sort? For that matter, what were they? Where did they come from? What were their limits and abilities? Were they aliens from another planet? I mentally smiled, but didn’t dismiss the notion. This must be the meanderings that Alex mentioned, where the subconscious was scrambling madly. It was a little unnerving as I realized the strange way my brain was working, like I was in a dream. The problem was I was being tugged along with my thoughts, listening to every little thing they brought up. Everything from the hideous bright green drapes with small gold harps on them, to the annoying buzzing noise of the transformer on the telephone post outside my motel room window.
This is what would drive people insane, I thought to myself. Drowning in small details whose importance has been amplified to extremes. I chuckled inwardly again. It reminded me of my first, and last, experiment with mind altering drugs. The pulsating walls of my apartment and the large dark water stain on my ceiling that had become the eye of some malevolent god-being staring from an alternate reality. My scientific mind had gone over various methods of crossing over to this alternate plane of existence, along with new methods of generating limitless energy and different theories of the origins of the universe. I had stayed in a state of high excitement all night, until I passed out. In the morning, I reexamined all my breakthroughs and realized I’d deluded myself. The water stain was, sadly, just a dark mark on my ceiling. So as I stared now at Sherlock feeling my mind working crazily, I smiled again remembering my younger days. Instead of feeling panicked I felt amazingly calm. I withdrew from my thought processes and backed away, like I was watching a dream unfold. It was interesting. ‚How’re you doing?‛ asked Sherlock, looking up from the journal. My mind immediately attacked his voice, analyzing it and tearing it down for clues on his origins. With great disappointment, my mind realized it couldn’t find anything unusual. However, it was able to render the question into several different languages. ‚Fine,‛ I said. The single word echoed in my head. Fine, from the Latin word finis, meaning ‘utmost limit’ or ‘highest point’. I sighed. ‚My mind is getting all hyper on me, analyzing everything within reach. I’m translating this conversation into Greek and Latin, and transcribing it into Cyrillic and Japanese characters as we speak.‛ He laughed, and I grinned weakly. He had a nice laugh. Laughter: Expelled air from lungs with the tightening of various facial muscles around the mouth, cheeks and eyes. ‚My plan is to sit back and watch the thoughts like a movie screen, but try not to participate in them.‛ He smiled at me. ‚Interesting way to try it. Let me know how it works.‛ I nodded, then stared at the ceiling again, unfocused my thoughts and backing away to watch. ‚This is kinda boring,‛ I said, hunched over and fingering my sword hilt. I had to agree. ‚Not the most exciting thing to be doing on a Thursday night,‛ I mumbled, rolling my head from side to side and stretching my arms. ‚It’s sort of scary,‛ I shivered, hugging my knees to my chest and hiding my face in the folds of my dress. The three of us stared at the thoughts and images flowing through my head. Time passed. ‚Pfft,‛ I said, standing up. ‚There’s got to be something interesting to do around here. It’s nighttime, and there’s bound to be some large predators roaming around.‛ I smiled a
feral grin, braiding my hair into a pony tail. ‚I feel like I could take on a bear barehanded.‛ I looked over at myself, dressed in something resembling a chainmail bikini. ‚You look ridiculous in that. Really.‛ I looked down at myself relaxing in bed and sneered. ‚What if someone sees you?‛ I mumbled into my dress, my voice trembling in fear. ‚You might get attacked. Someone will do something bad to you.‛ Wow, this was awesome. I backed away and saw three distinct people, personifications of my dominant personalities. The me that was strong and fierce, the me that was a timid maiden in distress and thought too much, and the normal everyday me still lying in bed. The warrior stopped near Sherlock and bent over, looking at him. Her tongue ran over her lips and her eyes got smoky. ‚Maybe I should stay here for awhile,‛ she said. ‚He’s pretty and young, and well built.‛ ‚No no no!‛ said the timid me, lifting my head with tears springing to my eyes. ‚If we cross the line, there’s no going back! He’ll think he owns us. He’ll want to control us, and we’ll become nothing more than a walking, talking sex object to him.‛ ‚Foolishness,‛ said the strong me, straddling his lap. He didn’t seem to notice, continuing to read the journal. ‚We know what we want. A night of mutual lust and entwinement, skin on skin, pounding pulse and sweaty breath.‛ I felt my heartbeat pick up, visualizing what could be. ‚Ecstasy and fulfillment, followed by oblivion. And a repeat of the act until morning.‛ I ran my hands over my thighs and moaned. ‚NO!‛ I said, my face coming out of my dress, hands grasping the sheets of the bed in anguish. ‚Don’t we remember the pain, the agony?! The betrayal of a man who took away our pride and dignity, and violated not only our body, but our soul?‛ I looked back at myself, a sneer on my face. ‚We fixed that problem, didn’t we?‛ The normal me finally decided to get in on the conversation. ‚Listen you two, be quiet for a minute.‛ I sighed, looking up at the ceiling. ‚You,‛ I looked at the warrior woman, ‚are a freak. Take a pill and get off Sherlock. You,‛ I looked at the trembling me cringing nearby, ‚are a coward. Grow a spine.‛ I giggled. The me straddling Sherlock lowered a shoulder strap on her chainmail top. ‚How can you do that?‛ said the coward, watching in horror as my top dropped to the floor with a clatter of metal. ‚Aren’t you terrified of what he’ll do to you?‛ I laughed. ‚He should be more frightened of me,‛ I said, running my hands over his chest. ‚Mmm< warm and firm, and he smells divine.‛ I shook my head.
‚You can stop now,‛ I said. ‚I know part of me wants this, and part of me is terrified of it, but now is not the time. Remember, our mind isn’t letting us think straight. This is all just a fabrication.‛ ‚Damnation, you’re right,‛ said the topless me, looking at Sherlock with longing. She leaned in and sniffed near his ear, rubbing her breasts across his chest. ‚Oh, I want him. Please, let’s do this soon, for real.‛ ‚I don’t know if I can trust him,‛ said the coward me, drying my eyes on the sheets. ‚He’s hiding something. And he’s sort of scary.‛ Abruptly, it was just the normal me again, and the blonde man reading the journal. As I lie there with my head propped up on a pillow, hands folded comfortably upon my stomach, I examined him critically. He knew too much. ***** A neat trick to try if you ever find yourself in the position of being in an altered state for example, high on drugs – is to experiment with your sense of focus. You can concentrate all your attention on a single object or idea for what seems like an eternity, seeming to absorb and understand everything about it. Of course, your brain isn’t thinking clearly, but some of the abstract concepts that come out of such a focus are noteworthy, just for their cockeyed perspective. I found myself focusing on the glowing nimbus around me which I knew was Alex’s ward, meant to dampen the effect of a psychically active Angela from freaking out the neighbors. I examined its nature, trying to reach out and touch it. It seemed remarkable, in that it appeared to be an extension of his aura, yet hardened in some unknown way to form an almost-physical shell of some sort. It seemed to be no more than vapor when my hands contacted it, but I knew he could solidify its presence very quickly. I sensed he could probably turn a bullet with it. Or disintegrate material that came in contact with it. A very potent defensive mechanism. I focused on Charlotte’s energy tap next. This was much easier for me to perceive, since it was a willing contact between the two of us. I felt the trickle of energy flow away from me, and applying some of my knowledge of physics and high-energy states, understood almost instinctively what she was doing. My mind drifted into the tap, feeling the mechanics of what she was doing and the effect it was having on both myself and her. ‚Wow,‛ I thought. ‚This is great.‛ I felt the energy peeling off me, feeding her like a vampire. I noticed how it made her stronger, and saw the mechanics of why. And I understood. For some reason it didn’t creep me out in the least. I looked back at Alex’s ward and realized that although Charlotte’s energy tap seemed fundamentally different from it, the mechanics seemed to be the same: an extension of one’s aura using willpower. While Alex’s method seemed to be projecting energy through the aura, Charlotte’s method was the drawing of energy back through it. Different methods of the same technique. Fascinating.
I wondered how one could extend one’s aura. It seemed to be a straightforward operation, involving nothing more than increasing the size and strength of your body’s electrical field with your thoughts. It didn’t seem any more difficult than firing extra nerve impulses to move a limb. I looked down at my hands, clasped on my stomach. Fingers were a good place to start in focusing attention, since they are the origin of our sense of touch. I focused on the little finger of my right hand, it being my most sensitive. I concentrated on it, trying to visual what I imagined my aura would look like. ‚We have a problem,‛ said Alex. I raised my eyes from my finger and saw Sherlock look up, his magazine forgotten. ‚The area is being swept by Hounds and Hunters.‛ Charlotte’s voice sounded strained. ‚It looks like they’ve put phase two into operation. They’re coming for her.‛ I looked around, but could see neither Alex nor Charlotte in the room. Sherlock stood up, dropping the magazine to the chair. He looked at me and saw my alert gaze. ‚You can hear them?‛ he asked. ‚That’s good. It’ll make things easier from now on.‛ He came closer and leaned down, placing a hand on my forehead. ‚You’re not running a fever, which is a good sign. Your body seems to be relaxed, although I don’t think we should move you. You’re in a vital stage right now.‛ My forehead tingled from his touch. I crinkled my eyes in a smile. ‚You’re leaving, aren’t you?‛ He returned the smile. ‚Alex and Charlotte can look after you. They’ll be over in a minute. I have work to do.‛ I studied his face, looking for signs of worry or fear. There were neither. He straightened up and looked at the door as Charlotte opened it and came in with Alex. They left the door open, and Sherlock ducked out it, closing it behind him. ‚So we’re in a fix,‛ I said, looking back down at the little finger on my right hand. ‚You can’t move me, so we can’t run.‛ Alex frowned. ‚You’re accelerating,‛ he said. ‚Right now, your thought processes are feeding on any available sensory input they can get. Emotions are a major factor. If you start feeling panic or any other negative emotions, it could really mess you up.‛ I laughed. ‚Surprisingly, I feel fairly calm and collected,‛ I said. ‚Considering Sherlock just went out to do something stupid against supernatural opponents.‛ I closed my eyes. ‚Which suggests that he is, himself, supernatural, doesn’t it?‛ Charlotte sat beside me, touching my shoulder.
‚I’ve known Franklin for many years, Angela.‛ It was the first time I’d heard her voice so gentle. I thought I felt a touch of sadness in it. ‚He can handle himself.‛ She stroked my forehead. ‚And when he has something to protect, it brings out the best in him.‛ Alex sat down in the chair Sherlock had vacated, folding his hands in his lap and staring into the distance. I could tell he was letting his mind journey outward, and I watched the process with fascination. ‚It’s a scouting party looking for targets of opportunity,‛ he said calmly. ‚Three pairs sweeping from the eastern mountains. They’re rogues, just a random sweep.‛ I strained to feel their presence, but all I felt was a dark pulse of power from Charlotte’s energy tap. ‚Hold,‛ she said, pressing gently on my shoulder again. ‚Don’t try to project. You’ll only draw them in to us. Let Alex do it< he’s subtle.‛ Reluctantly I stopped my effort, my vision blurring slightly. I looked up at Charlotte, who was gazing at Alex with adoration. Gone was the prickly Hunter, and back was the woman in love. Once again I felt the bond between them, two very different personalities that formed a greater whole. ‚Your hair is beautiful,‛ I said, once again getting distracted by minor details. ‚But it’s not the color you started with, is it?‛ Charlotte lost her smile. ‚I thought I mentioned it was impolite to read someone’s memories.‛ I pursed my lips and focused on her silvery hair. It glistened in the darkness of the hotel room like captive rays of moonlight. I smiled as it came to me, a clear vision of raven black hair and gold almond eyes. She was still the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, almost ethereal in her loveliness. Alex on the other hand< I looked over at him and saw a vision of him with wonderful dark blue eyes and his signature silver hair. What had made their appearances alter? It wasn’t artificial, I felt that much. It was like their bodies had strained to become as much like each other as possible. A very, very long time ago. I gasped as hidden knowledge suddenly hit me out of the blue. ‚Morgan,‛ I said, my hand creeping up to touch the silver-haired woman’s hand on my shoulder. She sighed and withdrew her hand. ‚I can see you don’t have any control over it,‛ she said, standing and putting her hands behind her head. ‚However, it’s still embarrassing to have old skeletons hauled out of the closet and dusted off for others to see.‛ My hands came up to my mouth as I stared at this woman with her delicate unknowable European accent. I experienced awe and excitement as she pretended she didn’t notice, her gaze turned to the powered-down television.
‚What’s this?‛ asked Alex, snapping back to the present. He noticed Charlotte’s chagrin and my astonishment. His lips curled up in a smile. ‚Oh, what did I miss?‛ I pointed at Charlotte with a surprisingly steady finger. ‚She’s< Morgan le Fay.‛ Alex’s eyebrows shot up. He looked at her. ‚No kidding?‛ I wasn’t detecting the proper amount of shock and amazement. ‚You know!‛ I prompted. ‚From Arthurian mythology. The half-sister of King Arthur, apprentice to Merlin. She escorted Arthur’s body to Avalon. She was part fairy herself, it was said.‛ Although there were many different versions of the Arthur saga, there were some things that were common through them all. ‚You’ve been busy,‛ Alex said to his wife with a smile. Charlotte snorted most unladylike, walking behind his chair and wrapping her arms around his neck. ‚After I awakened from the Sleep, your Old Friend asked me for a favor,‛ she said, leaning down and kissing his ear. ‚I couldn’t very well refuse.‛ Suddenly the atmosphere in the room altered slightly, like a sound that had been continuously droning had stopped. Almost immediately, it happened again. A tension that I hadn’t even felt lifted slightly in the room. ‚Gods, that was fast,‛ said Alex with awe, looking at Charlotte with a raised eyebrow. ‚I didn’t even see it happen.‛ She had a smug smile on her lips. I focused on the noise that used to exist, trying to recall what it sounded like before it vanished. There was more of it, but fainter, further distant. I struggled to sit up so I could turn my head to locate it. My body resisted my movement, feeling like a marble statue. I grimaced, trying to move, but with the exception of my hands I felt immobile. Obviously another side effect of this ‚awakening‛ of theirs. ‚We are Immortals, Angela,‛ said the Hunter, coming back to me and sitting on the side of the bed. ‚This is ridiculous,‛ I said. ‚In the last twenty-four hours my concept of the universe has taken an abrupt U-turn.‛ I closed my eyes. ‚I’ve been overwhelmed by a monstrously huge aura. I’ve been told that there’s a good chance I will be able to detect auras with my mind. My facility was turned into a crater, along with three hundred coworkers.‛ I stopped, realizing that hadn’t quite sunk in yet. All those people killed. For my invention. I started to shudder, my hyperactive brain visualizing the deaths of each of those innocent people. I was startled when Charlotte hugged me softly. She was wiry, but soft and warm. ‚Humans are lucky, Angela,‛ she murmured, squeezing me gently. ‚You’re familiar with the theory of reincarnation?‛
I snorted. ‚Believe it,‛ said Alex with a chuckle. ‚Gods know I’ve had enough experience in the matter.‛ ‚My point being,‛ said Charlotte with a scowl at Alex, ‚is humans have a soul, or spirit, that becomes free after death. This spirit usually ends up inhabiting a newborn and forgetting its past life. Sometimes personalities and vestigial memories stay with you in your next lifetime.‛ ‚In Immortals, the soul or spirit fuses with the body,‛ continued Alex. ‚Only a tremendous surge of energy can jar the spirit loose from its shell.‛ His eyes unfocused. ‚Essentially, this means that usually if the body is somehow destroyed, the spirit is destroyed with it.‛ I thought about that. Once again, I found myself believing something that I would have considered outrageous just a few short hours ago. ‚That sucks for you guys,‛ I said. ‚Not really,‛ said Charlotte. ‚The process of fusion toughens our bodies. In fact, more than half our bodies are ethereal in nature. Natural damage doesn’t have much effect on us.‛ I laughed. ‚I’m sharing a motel room with mythology beings.‛ ‚Focused energy like wards or energy taps can destroy us, or physical attacks from Hounds or other immortals, who are ethereal like us.‛ Charlotte continued with her lecture. ‚Also, star metal, which nowadays you’d call meteoric alloys, can harm us.‛ ‚Everyone has their kryptonite,‛ I chuckled. ‚Seems strange that that would be a problem though.‛ ‚My personal theory is that the metals absorbed energies in space that the atmosphere of the Earth naturally filters out. Something which doesn’t interact well with immortal flesh.‛ For no reason I could name, my gaze fell on Charlotte’s right arm. She caught my focus and nodded. Rolling up her sleeve to her upper arm, she displayed her woven metal armband. ‚Star metal. Forged originally as a sword meant to kill Warders.‛ Alex cleared his throat. ‚So, what we’re trying to say, in a very roundabout way< is the tragic loss of life at your workplace was a horrible crime, and will be addressed. However, they haven’t totally ceased to exist. Their spirits are free and have probably already found new homes.‛ I frowned, my mind wandering back to the broken face of Wilson Pettibridge as I disemboweled him. ‚So what happens to the evil ones?‛ I asked quietly. ‚The ones who deserved to die, and have their spirits burn in Hell?‛
There was silence. ‚Do their souls get reborn in new bodies, so they can grow up and torture and rape again? Do some of these vestigial memories carry the pleasure of tormenting innocent people until they die of despair and pain?‛ I gritted my teeth. ‚Do the reborn victims carry their fear into their next lives?‛ ‚Ever wonder why people seem to have unreasonable phobias about things, like the dark, or water, or heights?‛ asked Charlotte. ‚What if it’s an experience in a previous life that’s telling them it’s dangerous? The darkness hides a murderer, the water drowns, or the drop from a height kills.‛ Again, the abrupt silence crashed through the room, once more followed by another soundless vacuum. ‚Gods,‛ said Alex, shaking his head with disbelief. ‚The ease that they’re being dispatched< it’s frightening.‛ I looked at the two of them and laughed, realizing another memory had been acquired from them. ‚They called you gods once.‛ They both smiled. ‚One of my fonder memories,‛ he said, looking at Charlotte with glowing eyes. I felt a potent touch of her love come back through our mutual connection, her energy tap. She didn’t realize I could read some of her feelings through it, and I felt embarrassed. Without delay I disconnected the tap from myself, giving her her privacy. ‚What the<?‛ The dark tendril of her energy tap evaporated. She jumped off the bed and looked around the room frantically. What? Alex mentally asked her quickly. My tap was disrupted, she communicated back. It was like a ward came between us. Wasn’t me. I felt his mind probing around the room and outside. I’m not sensing anyone. ‚Uh,‛ I began. ‚Sorry about that, that was probably me. Charlotte was leaking emotion back through the tap, so I thought I’d give you two some alone time. I disconnected.‛ Charlotte’s jaw fell to her chest, and Alex started to laugh. She shot him a dirty look, and he smiled widely and shrugged. ‚I’m sure Charlotte appreciates that,‛ he said to me. ‚Let us know if you start feeling uncomfortable, or your mind starts racing.‛ I didn’t mention that through the last half hour, I’d already recited the Beowulf Saga in my mind in the original verses, or gone over the stories from Arthurian legend from ten separate retellings in French, German and English. I smiled at them. ‚I think I’m going to take a short nap. But before I do< I’d like to ask a question that I’ve been wondering about my entire life.‛ I was suddenly shy, afraid of the answer. ‚Since I was a little girl.‛
‚Ask away,‛ said Alex kindly. I felt a bit silly, but asked anyway. ‚Are there, or has there ever been<‛ I swallowed, ‚faeries?‛ Alex smiled. ‚Guardian blood envelopes a broad range of creatures and immortals, from Warders to the Second Born< guardian spirits, you could call them. Some are barely sentient, while others are mischievous. Some are terribly powerful, but elemental and simple. ‚In answer to your question< yes, Angela< the faeries from your beloved fantasy stories are real, and do exist.‛ I was a scientist< a respected physicist. I had made scientific breakthroughs in the areas of magnetic fields and electrical signatures. I had awards on my mantelpiece from the European and North American scientific communities, and honorary doctorates from Asian scientific institutes. But nothing< nothing< had made me happier than hearing the one sentence that the Warder had spoken. Faeries existed. I felt a hot tear run down my cheek as I closed my eyes, a content smile on my lips. I wasn’t out of my element at all. I welcomed the thought that there was more to the world than man could explain away with his grey bleakness and classifications of everything into the mundane. Magic, or something very much like it, was alive and well in the world. I smiled contentedly and drifted off to sleep as two more crashing silences thundered through the small town.
CHAPTER 4 – ASCENSION I woke to the sound of a strangled yelp coming from my bathroom. Alex had sprung to his feet and entered the little room before the echo had died away. I blinked slowly, moving my legs over to the edge of the bed and sliding my feet into slippers. ‚Impossible,‛ I heard Charlotte whispering frantically. Alex murmured something quietly, then exclaimed, ‚Whoa!‛ I stumbled groggily to the door, slipping on my glasses and poked my nose around the door frame, blinking blearily. The first thing I saw was the couple staring into the bathroom mirror. Both their eyes were wide, staring at their own reflections. Charlotte’s fingers were combing through her long raven-black tresses while Alex held her other hand in support. ‚How?!‛ whispered Charlotte, stroking her hair. ‚I didn’t sense a thing.‛ Alex was silent. He stared at the reflections, not mentioning his eyes had changed from their original gold to a deep, dark blue. ‚It’s beautiful,‛ I said. ‚It really suits you.‛ Charlotte slowly turned. I could almost sense her hackles rise.
‚You.‛ It was a simple statement. I grimaced, sighed, and asked them if they’d be so kind as to vacate my bathroom, since I really had to use it. Alex led Charlotte out, and her eyes never left me until the door was closed behind me. This is not good, love. I could tell Charlotte was forcing herself to be calm. She’s starting to display Attributes. Alex’s calming presence washed over us both. I suddenly realized I’d been slightly panicked by Charlotte’s own dismay. She’s right though, sweetheart. I could feel his smile through the walls. I forgot just how lovely you were when we first met. When I held you dying, and your hood slipped back and your midnight hair flowed out. I remember thinking that you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. There was silence in the other room. That’s unfair. You’re tricking me into forgetting about this. I felt something, and I knew they’d just kissed. A long, passionate kiss. My knees trembled and I braced myself at the sink, not daring to look at my reflection and seeing the emotion there. What had I done? I stared at the drain in the sink. The two were sitting silently in the living room, waiting for me to come out so we could talk. Sherlock was just driving into the parking lot with a trunk full of groceries. I looked up into the mirror and for the first time noticed my own reflection, and was surprised. My long, dark brown hair was untidy from a night of sleep, but it was sparkling, like I’d just washed it with some wonderful hair product. It was beautiful. I gasped as I touched it, not believing. The door opened to the motel room, and Sherlock walked inside with an arm load of bags. With one last glance, I turned away from the mirror and left the bathroom, walking back to the bed and sitting down. I didn’t feel self-conscious at all in my pajamas, which was another oddity. Alex and Charlotte tried not to, but I felt them staring at me curiously. It didn’t take long for Franklin to pick up on the vibes and turn from what he was doing in the kitchen and look at the scene. The first person his gaze fell upon was me, which gave me a warm sensation from my head to my toes. ‚Good morning,‛ he said with a smile. ‚You’re looking fit as a fiddle. Have a good sleep?‛ I hadn’t really thought about it. Blurry memories raced through my mind of dreams and fantastic scenery. It hadn’t disturbed me in the least. In fact, I had embraced the oddness. ‚Surprisingly good sleep,‛ I said.
‚Look at this,‛ Charlotte said with a slight cough. She ran her fingers through her glossy black hair. I almost physically felt Sherlock’s gaze leave me, and his eyebrows shot up. Alex was suppressing chuckles beside his wife. ‚What happened to you?‛ Sherlock started laughing. ‚Don’t get me wrong, it looks great, but what prompted it?‛ Charlotte frowned and looked at me. I returned the look, then looked at Franklin. He watched the exchange with confusion, then his face went white. She did it? his thoughts were quick and focused to Charlotte and Alex. I overheard though. It was the first time I’d heard him speak with his mind. I analyzed how he had done it, and realized it was only another way of projecting an aura. Simple. Apparently I did, yes. He looked at Charlotte with surprise, then at me. I smiled. God, almighty! he exclaimed, panic in his mind. We have to get her out of here, now! He began racing around the motel room, and Charlotte and Alex were out and in their own room in seconds. ‚What happened to not wanting to panic me?‛ I said, getting some clothes and heading to the bathroom to change. He paused, his hand in the motion of stuffing my laptop into my carrybag. Things have changed, Angela. I could feel him resuming his hasty packing of my gear. We were operating under the assumption that they wanted you for your technology. Which I assume they still want. I analyzed what he had said while I pulled on my skirt and zipped it up. My actions last night were calculated to scare them away, but if they become curious and sneak in to find out what happened and they find you< His thoughts were unfinished, but I could sense he was deeply concerned for me. It touched me. As for my own emotions, I still hadn’t figured out how this situation was affecting me. It was somewhere between confusion, humor, panic and acceptance. My own confusion confused me. I looked over at Sherlock again, and saw the double image of him wearing his casual clothes, with a superimposed set of armor and sword. A deep red cloak floated around with his quick movements. The illusion was stronger now, almost like an aura that he always carried around with him, and I was only now beginning to see. I walked out of the bathroom and picked up my bags while he dashed to his room to collect his meager belongings. Charlotte and Alex met me outside on the walkway, his eyes closed and head slightly tilted. I realized he was searching for enemies. Charlotte was on edge, her teeth gritted. She hadn’t questioned Sherlock’s command to get ready to leave, which made me wonder why. He dashed out of his room and raced to the car. ‚Charlotte, you need to drive. I’ll be in the back seat with Angela explaining a few things and cleaning our trail. Alex can keep an eye out for Hunters.‛
She didn’t question it. I hadn’t realized it at the time, but she was by far the best choice for a driver. I felt Alex’s approval, which calmed me somewhat. We all got into the car, and Charlotte was already three blocks away before I got my seatbelt on. ‚Everything we do that exerts willpower leaves a signature,‛ said Sherlock, turning to me. ‚Our thoughts can be detected if we’re not subtle and focused. Wards can mask this, but only to a point.‛ He breathed deeply. ‚What you did this morning, through pure accident, was a major manipulation of power.‛ His serious eyes bored into mine, making me feel uneasy. ‚It will have left a large footprint signature that can be tracked. You altered an immortal’s appearance, without her knowing, or permission.‛ I felt horrible, like I’d committed a huge faux pas. ‚Charlotte, I’m sorry,‛ I said quietly. ‚I didn’t mean to.‛ She snorted, tossing her hair. I could tell she wasn’t as offended as she had seemed to be. Instead, she was listening to the conversation with interest. ‚What you did, Angela, was something that should be impossible.‛ Sherlock still wasn’t smiling. ‚Not even a Hunter can manipulate her own physical appearance. Immortals’ bodies are hardened into their forms when they Ascend, and will stay that way until the end of their days.‛ Alex coughed. ‚Well, technically not true,‛ he said. ‚Charlotte’s hair and my eyes were originally this color. It was only after we met and shared ourselves with each other that we changed.‛ Sherlock looked surprised. ‚I didn’t know that.‛ Charlotte looked into her rearview mirror, her voice dripping sarcasm. ‚There’s a great deal of history in each of us, Sherlock. Don’t be amazed that we only know a fraction of each other’s stories.‛ I looked over at him with a laugh in my eyes. Suddenly my eyes widened, and I felt the awe hit me again. ‚Sherlock,‛ I said, my mouth dropping. He looked at me and saw my comprehension. His eyes softened. ‚Sherlock Holmes,‛ I whispered. It all made sense now. The crime scene investigation, Charlotte’s reference to Whitechapel, a neighborhood in London that had become famous due to one particular individual< Jack the Ripper. The ‘Whitechapel Fiasco’, she’d called it. Holmes had first appeared in print in 1887< one year before Jack the Ripper had made his debut. ‚You were there.‛ Alex’s head came up over the passenger seat and stared at the man sharing my back seat.
‚You have to be joking,‛ he said. ‚Holmes is a fictional character created by Arthur Conan Doyle.‛ ‚I was there,‛ said Sherlock with a nod to me. ‚It was a gruesome hunt, which I’d rather forget.‛ To my surprise, it was Charlotte that brought us back on topic. ‚You’re trying to get to a point,‛ she said, passing a vehicle so fast that looked like it was parked. ‚What I’m trying to say,‛ said Franklin, ‚is that once they spot your signature, they’ll want you for an entirely different purpose.‛ My mind was working very quickly now, drawing together minute scraps of information. I had analyzed the reactions of those around me, and what I’d heard. The term that Sherlock had used, ‚Ascend‛ hadn’t escaped me. By his use of it, each of these three people that shared the car with me had undergone something; something which had taken them from a lesser state to their current. Ascension. By definition, the rising from mortal to an immortal or divine state. He waited for me to process the information. It didn’t take long. ‚How?‛ I asked. ‚I’m just me. Normal, homely Angela. I’m not special, other than I have above-average intelligence. I’m 33, nearsighted, a little too much weight on my hips. I have bad fashion-sense. I’m bookish and solitary. Why me?‛ Alex and Charlotte were exchanging thoughts. I picked up on their confusion. ‚I’m sorry to keep on you like this, but you have to accept it.‛ He leaned back and closed his eyes. ‚Tell me about your parents.‛ I closed my eyes too. ‚I was an orphan. I never knew my parents. I was left at an orphanage when I was just a baby.‛ ‚OK,‛ he said, nodding. ‚Have you ever been injured or in an accident in your life?‛ I narrowed my eyes, looking at him with hurt. ‚You heard my story. About my<‛ I stopped, unable to continue. ‚I’m sorry,‛ he said softly. ‚I know you don’t want to, but think about it just for a moment. How long were you in the hospital afterward?‛ I reflected. ‚No more than a couple hours. Just long enough for them to examine me, take DNA samples and send me home.‛ He looked at me gently. ‚Doesn’t that strike you as odd, considering the trauma you’d experienced? Normally someone would be in the hospital for a week at least, including observation.‛ I hadn’t really thought about it. ‚What color is your hair, Angela?‛ he said.
‚Dark brown, of course,‛ I laughed. My laughter stopped as I lifted a lock of hair and stared at its golden brown shimmer. Oh gods, I heard from Charlotte as her foot punched the accelerator. She’s not a Sensitive at all. She’s Ascending. ***** Hunter or Warder. I sighed as we raced north through the night toward the border between Canada and the U.S. We’d only stopped briefly to refuel and grab some fast food before we were gone again. I was surprisingly calm all through this, my mind already accepting what was happening. I stared out the window at the dark forest, moonlit trees marring my reflection. I hadn’t said a word to Sherlock after his pronouncement. I wasn’t angry at him. I really didn’t have any emotions at the moment. The thought that I was on the cusp of immortality didn’t bother me one way or another. The thought that I would be able to travel through the years with people as extraordinary as the ones I was currently in the car with< really hadn’t phased me. What really bothered me was the thought that soon I’d be plunged into an eternal war, with two factions that were intent on wiping each other out. Not for any rational reason, but because each was ‚wired‛ to hate and fear the other. Would I become a Warder, intent on preventing Hunters from altering the world and preying instinctually on humans or other living creatures? The masters of the Ward, an energy force able to shield from severe elements, cataclysmic devastation or lifetaps. Usable as a weapon to surround and crush one’s enemy. Would I live in anticipation of each sunset, when the Warder’s powers waned and Hunter’s waxed. Watch as things I cherished around me slowly disintegrated with time and decay, powerless to stop it? Or would I become a Hunter. Mistress of manipulation of matter and life force. Able to convert materials into other objects. Able to latch lifetaps onto prey and drain life force, bolstering my reserves and making myself more powerful. Intent on discovering the secrets of life at a cellular level and manipulating it to suit myself. Supernatural speed and reflexes. Master of the Hound, a creature created from our immortal enemies’ brethren. I sighed again. I didn’t want either. Sherlock sat quietly beside me. It took me awhile to realize that his hand had taken mine and he was holding it gently. I glanced over at him, but he appeared to be asleep. Charlotte’s eyes were fixed intently on the road. It was finally Alex’s soft rhythmic snores that lulled me to sleep. ***** I woke up when we were at the border crossing. Luckily I always carried my passport with me when traveling, and encouraged Sherlock to do the same. Alex and Charlotte
were from north of the border, and although they had means of avoiding borders, they still liked to be as legal as humanly possible. My first conscious thought was that my pillow was warm and comfortable. It was also muscled. I opened my eyes and looked up at Franklin, who returned the look and smiled. ‚Morning Blondie,‛ he said, his eyes alight. I looked at my hair, which was now wheat-gold and sighed. ‚This is crazy,‛ I said, lifting my head and sitting up straight. I didn’t feel any muscle cramps from sleeping in an odd position, which made me happy. ‚Your changes, or sleeping with your head in my lap?‛ he grinned. ‚Both!‛ I growled. ‚Plus my clothes are all crumpled and uncomfortable and my tongue feels all fuzzy.‛ ‚We’re almost there,‛ said Alex with a nod to the border crossing. Ahead, I could read the lettering on the signs above the roadway. I tried to straighten my glasses, and felt a feeling of elation as I realized I wasn’t wearing them. My sight was perfectly focused. Glancing around at the scenery, I was jubilant, staring at everything with clarity. ‚My eyes!‛ I whooped. ‚I can see without my glasses!‛ There were chuckles all around. ‚Hey, it might not seem like a big thing to you old folks, but it’s huge to me!‛ I said. I felt Sherlock’s hand squeeze mine, and felt a warm glow. ***** We crossed the border without incident. Continuing north for almost an hour, we finally made it to the ferry terminal at Tsawwassen, just outside Vancouver. This would take us over to Vancouver Island, where Charlotte and Alex said we’d be safe for a time. I thankfully got out of the car and stretched my arms and legs, my clothing feeling even more uncomfortable than they had in the car. ‚Geez, what gives?‛ I moaned. ‚It feels like someone put my clothes in the dryer and shrank them.‛ Charlotte and Alex had wandered off to the cafeteria building. I stayed near the car with Sherlock, who was rummaging through my luggage. He handed me a pair of stretchy jogging pants and a sweat shirt. ‚You’ll be comfortable in these until we can get something for you to wear,‛ he said with a grin. He pointed to the washrooms across the parking lot and chuckled again, apparently for no reason. I frowned at him. ‚What’s so funny?‛ I said. He smiled apologetically. ‚Sorry, don’t mind me. I’ll be waiting here. Once you get back we can go get something to eat with Char and Alex.‛
I sniffed at him, then walked across the lot. Thankfully I was wearing my loafers. My clothes were so uncomfortable I don’t think I could have managed heels. Along the way heads turned to watch me pass. I smiled at a few people, and they returned the smile. It seemed odd, but I just put it down to different culture here in Canada. It was probably my suit jacket and skirt, unusual clothing for a Saturday morning at a ferry terminal. I eased into the washroom and got into a stall to change. It wasn’t the easiest thing to do, but I managed it without too many problems. Airplane bathrooms were a lot more cramped than this. I was horrified to discover the jogging pants that had once been baggy on me were now slightly loose around my waist, and hugged my hips. It wasn’t uncomfortable like the skirt, merely unusual. I sighed, realizing my ‚changes‛ had altered not only my hair, but my body. Great. I felt like a cow now. How now, blonde cow. I unhooked my bra and heaved a sigh of relief as the biting straps released. Able to breath properly again, I slid the bra off and I slipped on the sweat shirt. It was another tight fit, not quiet covering my tight abdomen muscles. I must have grown taller too. I folded my suit jacket and skirt carefully, and opened the stall door, heading to the sink to brush my hair and add a touch of lipstick. I almost died when I saw my reflection. ‚Oh My GOD!‛ I screeched. I’m sure it knocked dust from the ceiling and scared the seagulls away from the ferry terminal. I just stared, probably for five minutes, my eyes wide. I turned slightly, and looked behind me into the mirror. My face was beat red. I felt my heart beating quickly and tried to calm myself. Oh my god. My hands came up to my face and felt it. Gone were my buck teeth. My piercing hazel eyes were now soft blue and large. My pointed slim nose was now sculpted, eyebrows thin and arched. My cheekbones were high and pronounced, my chin slightly pointed. I looked into the eyes of the woman staring back at me. Was that me? I picked up my bundled clothes, forced myself to breath, and stepped out into daylight. Heads turned as I left the building, and I self-consciously walked to the car where Sherlock waited with a damnable grin on his smirking face. I stopped near him, my eyes on the ground and my face red, while he took my bundled clothes and packed them carefully into my luggage. ‚Shall we get something to eat?‛ he said casually, starting to walk to the cafeteria. I stood there, wondering whether I should stuff my sneaker as far up his butt as I could. Finally, I caught up to him, snarling at his side. ‚Why didn’t you tell me?!‛ I demanded. ‚I feel like a Barbie doll.‛ He shrugged. ‚I look ridiculous,‛ I said, near to tears.
He looked over at me. We were the same height now. ‚I like your idea of ridiculous,‛ he said softly. My rant died on my tongue, and I felt my pulse pound in my ears. I walked beside him quietly now, and we entered the cafeteria. Once again, heads turned, and I felt like I was on display. I edged closer to Franklin, and he took my hand without a word. I felt worlds better. Charlotte must have known, but she hadn’t told Alex. They were sitting at a table waiting for us. Charlotte looked up, said something to Alex, and he stood and turned to wave us in. He saw Franklin first, then his eyes drifted to me, not recognizing me. Of course, he’d been sitting in the passenger seat the entire journey, and missed the transformation. His frown turned into amazement. Holy shit. Charlotte and Franklin both laughed. I wasn’t sure what that meant. Alex without hesitation took my hand in a courtly manner and bowed over it, giving it a light kiss. ‚Milady, the sun pales in comparison to the golden light you’ve bestowed upon us with your presence. Helen of Troy would be seething in envy. You are truly magnificent.‛ He raised his head and smiled, and my heart fluttered again. It was beautiful, and just the right touch to make me feel like I wasn’t a freak. Charlotte, instead of being jealous, leaned in and gave Alex a kiss when he was seated again, which made me feel even more comfortable for some reason. The conversation started up slowly once the men returned with the food. ‚Old Friend will have some resources we can tap until Angela’s fully up and running,‛ Alex said between mouthfuls of burger. ‚The opposition will have already scouted out the motel by now. The Hounds will have her old aura memorized, but she’s been Ascending since then, and it’s altered her energy signature. Unless they find us fairly soon, she’ll be safe.‛ ‚I have a question,‛ I said, raising my hand. ‚Why am I going through this? I mean< why me?‛ Franklin leaned on the table and looked over at me. ‚Angela, you were never totally human. You know that, right?‛ I shook my head. ‚The fact that you were an orphan merely confirmed it.‛ How are we born? I wondered to them. No one really knows, said Alex. Technically, I’m the oldest of us at the table, but my knowledge of the matter doesn’t cover that. You see, we’re all orphans, our parents unknown. Our heritage doesn’t show until we reach our second or third decade, sometimes beyond. I nodded acceptance.
However, you are classified into Guardian or Mutator bloodlines. Warder or Hunter. So you have recognized bloodlines, some sort of fraternal relationship in the ranks of each clan of immortal. ‚Yes,‛ said Charlotte, eating her Danish daintily. ‚How that relationship is created is unknown.‛ ‚It’s interesting to note the genetic hatred between the two clans,‛ said Sherlock. ‚It’s like something forces them to fight. As far as I know, Charlotte and Alex are the only two who’ve overcome the hurdle.‛ I was drawn to her across the world, Alex thought, his mouth full of carrot cake. We both felt each other, and knew our other half was out there waiting for us. I had felt the link between these two before. I could only imagine what it’d be like to want someone that much. ‚Why is that, do you think?‛ I said, slipping a fry into my mouth. ‚Split soul was the best we could come up with. When we joined, we felt whole again.‛ Charlotte’s hand brushed Alex’s arm, and he smiled around a mouthful of dessert. I laughed. ‚It’d be really interesting to see how you two would score on our aura harmonics system.‛ Please, groaned Sherlock. It’s fairly obvious. I mock punched him. ‚Would be interesting to use them as a benchmark for future trials though.‛ ***** It felt odd being the center of attention. Franklin’s support and general nonchalance made me feel normal, which was a great help. But I couldn’t help noticing the looks on the faces as we walked or sat in the lounge on the ferry. Well, I didn’t want it to go to your head, said Franklin privately to me, but you are extremely attractive. And growing more so by the hour. I feel like an object, I answered with a groan. I’ve spent most of my life avoiding attention, and now my unknown genes are conspiring against me to put me in the spotlight. I know how you felt, so I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. But I’m still kicking myself that I didn’t compliment you before Alex did. I blushed. ‚Franklin,‛ I began. I didn’t know how to continue. He seemed to anticipate my question, however. ‛It won’t happen,‛ he said. ‚I will never be your enemy. Whether you end up as a Hunter or Warder won’t matter.‛ I smiled at him, eye to eye now that I’d grown. ‚Why haven’t you found some beautiful immortal to settle down with?‛ I said, teasing him. His look became faraway, and I thought he wouldn’t answer. But he did, in a manner that astonished me.
‚I never felt the kiss of love, nor maiden’s hand in mine.‛ I immediately recognized the verse. ‚Alfred, Lord Tennyson’s Sir Galahad.‛ He smiled sadly. I walked by his side. I wondered what it would be like to love someone forever. We walked to the railing and stared across the water at the sunlight reflecting on the trees of the islands. I’m surrounded by so much myth and fable, I know I should be frightened. But, I smiled, it’s so natural, it feels like I’m coming home. ***** ‚They’re serious,‛ said the man Alex identified as ‘Old Friend.’ ‚So far there have been a half dozen clashes on the southern portion of Vancouver Island, with the furthest north being Ladysmith.‛ I stared at this old Arabic gentleman, listening to his voice as smooth as mahogany. According to Alex and Charlotte, Old Friend (and there didn’t seem to be another name he went by), was the oldest living Warder. This was astounding, considering Alex had mentioned that they’d known each other back in the times of the early pharaohs, and the old man still called Alex ‚Young Friend.‛ He had dark skin, with surprisingly few wrinkles except the laugh lines around his eyes. His hooked eagle nose and wiry black hair and piercing eyes gave him the appearance of a bird of prey, although the gentleness he radiated was almost palatable. We’d arrived in Nanaimo the day before. Charlotte had a beautiful home that had a Mediterranean flavor, built up in the hills overlooking the bay. Alex had wasted no time making mental phone calls, and we hadn’t even settled before the doorbell rang and a full dozen Warder women and men stood outside. ‚Well, come in,‛ motioned Charlotte, a feral grin on her face. They grimaced, but accepted the invitation of the ex-Hunter. She stood at the door and worked to suppress her mirth before she followed them inside. Old Friend had arrived soon afterward, and the strategy meeting had began. I hadn’t realized they would call so many people in, just for my sake. I was, once again, touched. Don’t be, said Old Friend, obviously picking my thoughts. The birth of an immortal is not a common occurrence anymore, perhaps one in a generation. They know what’s happening. All immortals right now, can feel the tension of the Ascension in the air. We must prevent them from preying on you if you are a Warder birth, since you will be at your most weak before you come into your being. I looked at him fully. And if I am a Hunter, then what can I expect from you? He sighed. ‚I will guarantee your amnesty, and we will depart and let your kinsmen claim you.‛
Charlotte was solemn. ‚I have to admit to you, Angela has already displayed in her Ascension the ability to transmute.‛ She touched her raven black hair. The old man nodded gravely. ‚However,‛ she continued, ‚she has also severed an energy tap I set up. Which is a Warder ability.‛ Sherlock looked at me with amazement. Really? He thought privately to me. I nodded. The old man sat, sipping his tea thoughtfully. His eyes flickered to Sherlock and he smiled. ‚It’s been a long time, young man,‛ he said. ‚It was in Caerleon, I believe. With the young lady here.‛ He nodded at Charlotte with a twinkle in his eye. She smiled. ‚Those were epic times, Old Friend. I’m glad I could be there with you.‛ Alex sighed and threw up both hands in despair. ‚You lose two thousand years of immortality, and suddenly everyone around you becomes mythical. How irritating.‛ He stared at his Old Friend. ‚Son of a woman and incubus, my ass.‛ The old man chuckled, sipping his juice. Of course, the reference didn’t pass me by. I stared at the old man and gaped, realizing I was in the company of the old druid himself, the Merlin of Britain. Then I looked at the woman who had gone by the name Morgan le Fay in the time of Caerleon. Finally I felt the presence the man who sat next to me. Without turning to him, I once again saw him in his armor and sword, red cloak waving behind him, the brilliant chalice on his breastplate. I was too awestruck to even think what I was thinking. I felt my hand rise to my mouth and my heart beat fast. I didn’t dare meet his gaze. I tried to focus on what was being said, but my entire world was rocked on the realization of who I must be sitting next to, who had held my hand and had lent me his support and strength. Who I’d come to know as a friend, and who I had started to become infatuated with. I found myself stunned, wondering how I could sit next to him so calmly. I felt my heart palpitate and breath come rapidly. Are you alright? asked Sherlock. You seem upset. He nudged me with an elbow, and the warm tingles went through my body like lightning. I’m fine, I said. Not really. From the beginning, I’d admired his intelligence and humor, and of course there was no denying he was handsome. He was eclectic, but always a gentleman. Working with him had brought me closer to him, and I could only be further amazed at his efficiency and protectiveness. He was a man. I had decided not long ago that I hated the breed. But Franklin had changed that over the two months I’d known him, especially in the last three days. He’d demonstrated the qualities that I’d hoped I’d see in a man ever since I’d read my first
romances of the Arthurian legends. The unassailable courage, honor, loyalty and romance of a knight of the court. And for good reason. Oh, god. I stood up, and all eyes watched me rise. I smiled wanly and headed for the washroom. Just the thought he might be who I thought he was made me weak. My own personal kryptonite. When I left the washroom, I stood in the hallway of the villa, the realization of what was happening striking me. I was in a home surrounded by immortals, about to become one myself. My very being was altering to become that which I would be for the rest of eternity. I was in the company of people that meant to protect me, even if it meant their immortal existences ending. In a way, they were all knights protecting the damsel in distress. I was deeply touched. What chilled me was that in mere hours, they might all regard me as their immortal enemy. It saddened me. What outrageous circumstance could create instant enemies, just because of blood? I sat down beside Sherlock, calmer now. I leaned into his shoulder and closed my eyes. No matter who he really was, at least one had promised that he’d never hate me, no matter what happened. ***** ‚Forces are gathered,‛ said Old Friend. His eyes were tired. ‚It’s a standoff, but we all know your Ascension will end tonight, young lady. Only the gods know what the outcome will be, and how those involved will act.‛ He had already explained that the hotheads on each side had already clashed, terrific fights taking place over the open ocean away from civilization. But even I, as limited and young as I was, could feel the forces of energy far to the west that had gathered. It was two large armies, staring down each other, waiting for one to make a move. They had remained stationary over the ocean now for half a day. Neither would be able to withdraw without their adversary routing them from behind. It was impasse. All for me. If this was what it was to be a Hunter or Warder, I wasn’t interested. I stood up from the table and walked to the front door, grabbing my coat. Sherlock was there, and helped me put it on. Mind some company? He asked. I shrugged, and he took his own jacket off the hook and donned it. Outside, the night air was cool with late winter. The scent in the air was amazing, a sharp ozone smell, like lightning. I felt him trailing behind me, and I waited for him to catch up. Wasn’t sure if you wanted me hanging off you, he said.
I twined my arm around his and we walked down the street, looking at the sunlight lingering on the bay far below. ‚I’ve met Warders,‛ I said, wanting to speak my fears. ‚What’s it like to be a Hunter?‛ Sherlock paused, then continued walking. ‚Actually, I’m fine with most of them,‛ he said. ‚Hunters are just another side of the coin. Warders appear at first glance to be ‘the good guys’, but they have their faults too. Hunters symbolize change, while Warders tend toward stability. There are always fanatics in any cause, and it’s no different in the Warders and Hunters. Unfortunately, we always tend to run into the fanatics, while the more mature members stick to themselves.‛ I had a horrible feeling this was the case. ‚So why don’t the more moderate of each faction try to hook up and come to an understanding? And don’t give me that ‘blood feud’ line.‛ We were passing a bench. He steered me toward it, and we sat. ‚It IS the blood, Angela,‛ he said. He thought about it. ‚There is an almost alchemical hatred in their blood. You could put a hunter and a warder in a room with a hundred other people, and the two of them would be at each other’s throats within five seconds.‛ ‚Why not you?‛ I asked. ‚What makes you so special?‛ He looked at me solemnly. ‚I’m a special case. It’s just that simple.‛ He shrugged and leaned back. ‚I’ve always been able to hang around with either faction without a problem.‛ ‚And why can those Warders enter Charlotte’s home without her attacking them, or them her?‛ ‚Well,‛ he grinned, ‚you probably noticed they’re not overly fond of her. But you’re right< they’re not ready to eat each other’s gizzards.‛ I pulled a foot up onto the bench and hugged my knee, gazing down at the bay. ‚Sounds like an interesting puzzle, doesn’t it<‛ I grinned at him. ‚<Sherlock.‛ ***** That night, the tempest hit. The sky lit with fire, the earth groaned beneath. Waves crashed into the beach of the bay far below, and the wind howled. It looked like the apocalypse. All the Warders, including Old Friend were outside in the storm standing guard over me. On this storm wracked night, the last night of my old life and the beginning of my new one, I sat at the kitchen table with the three immortals I’d grown to love and respect the last few days. We played poker. Us girls had teamed against the men, and it was hilarious. I’d come to the conclusion that there wasn’t one of us who wasn’t constantly cheating, giving his or her partner
secret mental hints across the table. Of course the men gallantly ignored our cheating until they were a couple hundred dollars down. Then they came back with a vengeance, and it was all Charlotte and I could do to cheat to stay ahead. Meanwhile, the storm grew in intensity outside. It was only a matter of time before the power went out. When it did, Charlotte was already prepared with candles. A kettle of water started boiling on the bare counter (another interesting Hunter trick), and some tea was made. A feral howl split the night, and the other three tensed. ‚It wouldn’t dare,‛ said Charlotte. ‚There’s a tenuous truce here, and even a psychotic Hunter would know that unleashing his Hound would have a dangerous chain reaction.‛ I glanced from Charlotte to Alex, and was surprised to see a look of sadness on his face. What is it? I asked him personally. ‚Every time I hear a Hound, I want to release it,‛ he said out loud. ‚Its Hunter would have a conniption though.‛ Release it? This was the first I’d heard of this. ‚Hounds are Guardian blood, same as Wardens,‛ said Charlotte. ‚Those exact faerie creatures you are so fond of. Hunters can alter them through a ceremony, turning them against their former kin. They are the companions of Hunters.‛ I stopped breathing. ‚Are you telling me that Hunters have companions with Guardian blood< Warder blood< flowing through their veins?‛ Their most loyal companions, thought Alex sadly. I have only successfully managed to release one, returning it to its original life as a guardian. ‚You’ve succeed in altering a Hound?‛ I said, barely breathing. ‚How? You’re a Warder. You can’t transmute.‛ He smiled. ‚I have elementary skills in transmuting, but it’s not difficult. It just expends a huge amount of energy. When my love and I became one, I learned to transmute. Just as she learned to create wards.‛ He smiled at Charlotte, who returned the loving glance. I breathed slowly again. This would require the mind of the most brilliant man I’d ever met. ‚Franklin, want to go for a walk?‛ He glanced outside at the tempest and shrugged. ‚Why not? Looks like a lovely night for a stroll.‛ ***** Did you hear what they were saying? I thought to him urgently. We were both soaking wet, but the elements weren’t bothering us. They share abilities. Both Hunter and Warder abilities!
He smiled. And they’re famous for it, he said. They’re the only two immortals in the world from the rival clans, that we know of, that have successfully come together. He saved their lives using their combined energies. It changed them at a cellular level. He stopped in his tracks. It’s a Hunter ability. I said, triumphant. He was starting to come around. They are able to alter the blood of a creature that is traditionally their enemy. When Alex and Charlotte become one, they mixed their blood together. And they became lovers. He turned me and stared into my eyes. His brown eyes bored into mine. Immortals can’t be altered like that. I smiled. I’ve already proven they can. What does that make them? They aren’t Hunter or Warder anymore. I felt the rush of the storm and exulted in its terrible force. The energy of the earth poured up into me. I felt the bands of energy that Alex had told me about, the ley lines that ran through and around the Earth. I smiled. I knew them by another name< the Earth’s electromagnetic field. I felt the tremendous surge of electrons as the air ionized and a lightning bolt discharged. I understood this too, and the process behind it. It was glorious. The mighty ocean and screaming wind pulsed through me, and I felt the terrible purpose in it, the greatness of nature in its fury. But mostly, I felt the rightness of it. The balance. It was neither stability nor change. It was nature seeking equilibrium. I raised my arms to the storm and embraced it. I’d found my purpose, and it was great. Neither Hunter nor Warder. A jolt of power screamed through me, and I felt every fiber of my being glow. It was glorious, like I was a battery at full charge. I turned to Franklin with a smile. His face turned pale, his eyes widened. I realized I’d found a brother, a father, a son and an uncle. I walked into his embrace, and he returned my hug, at first numbly, then fiercely. Welcome, he said. Welcome, sister, to the ranks of the immortals. I pulled back and looked at him intently. I saw his aura of armor, cloak and sword. I felt the reality of it, and the confirmation of his being. My body ached to be held again. I wanted him more than I could express. I needed to place my lips on his. He held me at arm’s length, his eyes wide. Then he shut them, almost painfully, and turned back to Charlotte’s house. Confused and hurt, I followed him, my eyes on his wide back and long golden hair. *****
The storm died abruptly before we’d returned to Charlotte’s house. It was a harbinger for my rebirth, and had served its purpose. Neither Franklin nor I spoke, mentally nor physically. I wished I could feel my hand entwined in his. I wanted its warmth and strength, his warmth and strength next to me. But for now, being near to him helped. Old Friend sat at the kitchen table with the others. With him were five other Warders. The others all looked at me as I entered. Their silence turned to awe, and they stared at me until I felt uncomfortable. Hesitantly, one of them beamed, when she realized I was not anathema to them. ‚Welcome, Sister,‛ she said, echoed with smiles and some relief by her brethren. Don’t be so hasty, said Old Friend. She’s not Guardian blood. There was mumbling and commotion. Charlotte was the first to get it. ‚You don’t mean<‛ Sherlock smiled, nodding. ‚She’s my kin.‛ He grinned at me, almost shyly. ‚Arbiter.‛ Gasps passed through those gathered. I smiled at him, and he turned to me with his own smile. I was, however, not prepared for what happened next. Everyone present, including Old Friend, knelt. To me. ‚What?‛ I looked around. ‚What?!‛ Sherlock smiled. ‚Get used to it, Angela. You’re going to be seeing a lot of it in the next few days.‛ ***** And I did. Arbiters were an extremely rare breed of immortal. They had no blood hatred, and the ability to wield both Hunter and Warder powers. They were neutral, but entirely capable of defending themselves as I soon discovered. And I was happy to learn that we weren’t the only two in the world. There was a small community of Arbiters, eight total including me now. ***** Flight was something I reveled in. I had no clue immortals could fly, and my mind was busy analyzing the scientific aspect even as I was winging my way across the Pacific toward the two gathered armies. It seemed second nature to me, an extension of my natural aura and that of the world working together. Franklin mentioned this wasn’t the way most immortals thought of it. More like an act of will. I smiled and let my mind drift while the world pushed me in the direction I wanted to go.
The Earth is our ally, Franklin told me as we came closer to the two amassed armies. You can feel her working with you, for you. She desires balance as much as us, and she’s terribly powerful. She’s part of our family. I smiled, wondering what I’d have thought of this a month ago. When we reached the ranks of the Warders, they parted for us, and we continued through to the center of the two forces. We slowed, then stopped. Franklin paused for dramatic effect. He knew that everyone present could see him clearly, despite the miles between the forces. One of the perks of immortality was incredible vision at long distances. Behold, the newly Ascended. Franklin’s thoughts boomed across the gulf, amplified by the Earth herself. I heard his words descend through the world and resonate around it, so Immortals everywhere could hear. Behold her, brethren, and forget your strife this day. The words were ritualistic. I could feel their power, and the echoing of my surprised new family reinforcing the chant in their joy. They had not seen a new member since the man beside me Ascended in the time of King Arthur. Behold Angela, newborn to the Arbiters. The two armies were instantly on their knees. We must have some clout, I smiled, pushing my hood back and letting my gold hair drift in the Earth’s wind. I felt a wave of admiration as they locked their eyes on me, and I had to laugh. I never thought I’d have anyone trip all over themselves about the way I look. ‚It’s your majesty that’s manifested on your surface,‛ he whispered. ‚You’re glorious, warrior maiden.‛ I smiled dangerously. ‚Did you really take a vow of chastity, Galahad?‛ He frowned at me. ‚Oh please,‛ I said, my eyes glittering. ‚I’ve been in love with you since I was old enough to read the Lancelot-Grail cycle in the original French.‛ I snorted. ‚You think I wouldn’t recognize you if I ever met you?‛ ‚I’m not terribly comfortable with the legend,‛ he said. For some reason his face seemed flushed. I was surprised as I realized he was embarrassed. It was my turn to frown. ‚What’s wrong?‛ He sighed. With a roll and a dive, we headed back to Charlotte’s home. I’ll tell you, someday, he said. For now, we have to get you to safety. And I know just the place. I want to stay here, with you, Alex, and Charlotte! I said, becoming angry. Why can’t I? He mentally gritted his teeth.
Forces move against us, Angela. While you are safe, Alex, Charlotte and I will be free to move around and investigate. I felt dejected. I felt my mind scream in agony, wanting to be near him, and knowing he was trying to keep me at a distance. Why?! Was I that repulsive? It’s for the best, he said. I< care about you too much to have you hurt. My heart melted. It wasn’t much, but he had admitted something that made me want to sing out loud. I’ll do it, I said, but I want you to be careful too. I don’t think I could stand it if you got hurt. We said nothing further until we arrived at Charlotte’s, and travel plans were made for me.
FOREWORD Being the final part of my Silver Angel series, I was worried that I’d procrastinate and let it sit for much too long before I finished it, much like the original Silver Angel. To my shock, I went almost immediately from finishing Synergy to writing Flash Point. Before I knew it, I was putting the finishing touches on a short story over eighty pages long, a personal record. Flash Point is special to me. It finishes a storyline over a decade old. It explains the immortals who are caught in this world, in an endless pointless struggle out of their control. And it explains their distant history, and possible future. It’s about opposites, and how they can attract. But most of all, it’s about love. Whether it’s immortal or mortal, love has the power to torment us, flay us with emotion and tear us apart. But if we’re very lucky, one day we can gain the courage to say to that special someone, ‚Being near you causes me so much pain I feel like I’m dying, I love you so much.‛ And they respond, ‚I know what you mean, because I feel the same.‛
Silver Angel PART III – FLASH POINT By Darrell Summerfelt
CHAPTER 1 – MEETING THE TWINS Once upon a time, in a land far away, there lived a lonely princess. Her castle was full of people who bowed, and smiled, and laughed and praised her charms and wit. Animals had been imported from faraway kingdoms just for her pleasure. Acrobats performed and plays were held in her honor. However, when the day was over and the sun went down over the green hills near the castle, she found herself alone again. She wished day after day that she been born just a plain little girl, with parents that were farmers or merchants, so that she might have friends her age and have fun. She wondered if she would ever have a real friend who liked her for who she was, instead of what she was. Meh. Scorn. Alright, what’s the problem? The defensiveness in the narrator’s query was obvious. Really, Iris, listen to yourself as you read it. This is the way any one of a dozen stories have started. I can totally predict how its plot is going to unravel. You have to find something a little more original.
A third personality popped in with a counter-comment. I think it’s charming, she said. And after all, it’s just the opening paragraph. The feelings behind the thought were shy but earnest. And I understand how the princess feels. ‚She’s so cute, I could just squeeze her to death,‛ said Arce aloud so the third person wouldn’t hear. ‚She’s a darling,‛ answered Iris. ‚I can hardly wait to meet her.‛ The two identical girls were in their hotel room, one rifling through her suitcase, the other lying on bed holding a manuscript in her hand, her bright red hair pooled around her. She, unlike her twin, was already dressed in a bikini. Would you like to hear more, Angela? asked the reclining girl, twirling a finger through her hair. Oh, please Iris, urged the distance mind. I love your writing. Angela< don’t encourage her. We’re here for a vacation. Not torture. The girl upended the suitcase on the bed, beaming in delight as she finally found her bathing suit. Iris laughed, dropping the manuscript onto the clothing-strewn bed. Alright, I’ll give it a break. What’s your ETA Angela? The image of a golden valley suddenly appeared in the two girls’ minds. The view spiraled in a barrel roll, then descended toward the valley floor. There was the feeling of exhilaration and excitement. Angela was having fun. I know where that is, Arce said, changing into her swimsuit. You’re about twenty minutes out. We’ll give you directions and meet you here at the hotel pool area. You’ll be rooming with us for a few nights. There was a burst of directions from the twins, then a mental grin from their inbound guest. See you there! Iris hopped off the bed and hugged Arce from behind. ‚I’m SO excited! We have a new sister!‛ Arce smiled and giggled. ‚She seems nice, but she’s definitely a prude. A theoretical physicist.‛ She snickered, the twins’ eyes sparkling in the mirror. ‚I wonder how long it’ll take to corrupt her?‛ ***** Angela raised her wards and vanished before she approached the city of Puerto Vallarta on the west coast of Mexico. She’d never been here, but the twin’s visual directions had been very precise. Already the mountains parted before her. As she flew over the jungle, she could see the rapidly approaching sparkling blue water of the Bahía de Banderas. As she descended closer to her destination, she felt increasingly nervous and excited. She’d never had family before. Amazing how a mere two months had changed her entire existence.
She’d been born to unknown parents and raised in an orphanage. Her brilliant mind had separated her from her peers in infancy, and she’d never had any real friends. As she got older, her social skills atrophied as she spent more and more time with books and away from people. Advancing through school quickly, she was accepted into a school for gifted children. At 14, university-level courses had become boring. She developed a fondness for physics, which she pursued into the field of theory. In her short career she had made incredible breakthroughs, eventually getting the attention of research companies and the government. She was hired as the head of a pure theoretical physics division based in southern California, where she and several others were given free rein to explore science. There, she had made her greatest achievement: A way of perceiving and analyzing electromagnetic residue left behind by living creatures. Their ‚auras.‛ As she poured more of her division’s budget into her discovery, the government required her to justify her expenditures. She decided to field test her aura signature technique in a crime solving aspect. She could identify criminals by their auras, which couldn’t be wiped off crime scenes like finger prints. This had required a partner who was well-versed in interpreting crime scenes. And this, through government connections, had hooked her up with Franklin Sherlock Riley. She slowed as her flight brought the buildings of the old city near. Sherlock. She felt her face heat up. He was brilliant, and scary. She had once been the smartest person she had known, all vanity aside. He made her look like a grade school student. He had read her like a book within minutes of meeting her. His mind wrapped itself around her entire research within a half hour. She touched down on the boardwalk, ten minutes walk away from the hotel the twins waited at. She supposed she was scared of him. Months before, she’d been brutally kidnapped, raped and imprisoned by a stranger, a man she’d never met or done anything to. After she escaped by killing the man, she developed a deep phobia towards all men. But even then, she’d never been intimidated by a man so much as by Sherlock. Everything about him bespoke capability, intelligence, and hidden power. But there was something about him that disarmed her fear. Something she didn’t dare acknowledge. She wasn’t ready to trust men again. It confounded her, this interest in him. She had been a mousy science geek with buck teeth, in her early thirties. She constantly practiced her martial arts when she was home from work, or focused on meditation or work. She was definitely not a people person. But then, she had begun to change. And he became even closer to her, a rock solid bastion of support when she’d needed it. She was so confused. Her bare feet on the sunwarmed paving stones felt wonderful. Turning to the ocean, she marveled at its brilliant blue. A crowd of tourists were gathered at a bronze statue of a
cowboy riding a seahorse. She walked toward it, slowly lowering her wards and gradually becoming visible. She drew her sunglasses out of her safari shorts and slid them on, grateful she didn’t need glasses to see anymore. Sherlock. There was a pang she wasn’t familiar with. She wished he was here. Come on, slowpoke! We’re waiting for you. Iris was clearly excited, and Arce’s agreement was close behind her sister. Angela chuckled. She faced the north and headed along the boardwalk, leaving a swath of awestruck tourists and locals behind her. ***** Franklin Sherlock Riley sat in the back yard of a beautiful home, roughly two thousand miles north of his three sisters. ‚I was thinking about the destruction at the facility, plus the crater near the Rockies,‛ he said, sipping his coffee and staring at the sun-kissed bay far below. He closed his eyes and sighed. ‚My conclusion isn’t a happy one.‛ His two companions gave each other a quick glance. The silver haired man grimaced, and the raven-haired woman shrugged. ‚We’d already come to the same conclusion,‛ Charlotte said. ‚Although there were Hunter auras in the area near the Rockies crater, the hole was most definitely not created by an energy tap.‛ ‚It’s a ward hole,‛ said Alex. A small orb of energy formed in the dirt nearby. All three sets of eyes watched as the orb imploded quietly and left an ashen crater in the ground. I don’t like where this is going, thought Sherlock, pushing his long blonde hair back with a tired hand. Alex sighed. ‚Outside of killing Hunters, Warders won’t willingly take lives.‛ He paused, drinking his coffee. ‚There have been environmental extremist Warders that have done it though.‛ ‚Or political ones,‛ said Charlotte. ‚Well, they did an excellent job of covering their tracks,‛ Sherlock said, closing his eyes. ‚They worked together to reinforce their wards, and at the same time distorted the auras so much they can’t be separated. It looks like a giant single signature.‛ He leaned his head back into his hands. ‚We can’t identify them by their auras.‛ ‚There’s at least twenty of them,‛ said Alex. ‚The Rockies crater could have been a smaller force of around five, but the facility’s destruction was definitely a major team effort.‛ ‚Lovely.‛ Charlotte stood up, and both men watched as she walked to the edge of the yard and looked down at the bay, her midnight hair drifting about her.
I can understand why the rogue Warders would destroy the facility. I would have done the same thing as a defensive move, to deny their enemy the ability to locate the Stronghold with Angela’s invention and your modification. The question that baffles me though is< why lure you and Angela away before they destroyed it? Why not take you both out at the same time, and remove any chance of the technology getting rediscovered? Sherlock nodded. Exactly my thoughts. The only conclusion I can come to is that they still need Angela’s cooperation for something. Thankfully when she Ascended, her aura altered sufficiently that they don’t know where she is anymore. However, just to be on the safe side I asked the twins to entertain Angela for a little while; to get her away from here, and give her some formidable protection at the same time. Alex grinned. ‚You don’t mean THOSE twins, do you?‛ Charlotte palm-slapped her forehead. ‚Not Iris and Arce? Please don’t say you threw our baby lamb to the lionesses?‛ Sherlock laughed. ‚Oh, I don’t think you have to worry too much. Angela’s a tougher lamb than she seems. Besides, I’m curious to find out what they think of their new sister. And you won’t find any better protection than those two.‛ Alex laughed along with Sherlock. ‚If the twins are anything like they were back in the age of the pharaohs, Angela’s in for a rough ride.‛ ***** The two red-heads sauntered down to the pool, each toting a woven handbag in the crooks of her elbow, the other hand in her twin’s hand. Impish smiles lit their faces as they raked the hotel guests with their eyes, feeling the scrutiny and desire of the men and women with inner glee. There was no denying the twins were gorgeous. They had been only nineteen when they had Ascended, a three-fold miracle. Ascending so young was uncommon, but twins were extremely rare in the world of the immortals. And rarer yet, they Ascended as Arbiters. Their teenage gawkiness had filled out, and as with all immortals, their unnatural beauty had come to the surface. The twins were charming young-seeming girls who loved attention. Of course, they never advertised to their fellow immortals that they’d Ascended over five thousand years ago. ‚I wonder what she’s like?‛ said Iris, finding a half-submerged cement lounge chair in one of the pools. She eased into the water and gasped at the cool water and warm sun mixture. Arce smiled as she placed their bags poolside and slipped into the water, joining her sister.
‚Sherlock said she was thirty-three when she Ascended,‛ she said, laying back on the submerged cement slab so only her head was out of the water. ‚I’m guessing the matronly sort.‛ ‚She is sort of uptight feeling,‛ said Iris. ‚But I’m sure we can break her of that. She’s not going to get much sleep tonight.‛ Both twins laughed, thinking of the line of drinking and dancing establishments that ran across from the boardwalk in southern Puerto Vallarta. ‚Five grand says I guess her before you do, without aura reading,‛ said Arce, a grin on her face. She flipped over in the water and lay stomach down on the slab, facing back to the lobby of the hotel. Iris giggled and followed suit, staring eagerly. ‚A new sister,‛ she said. ‚It’s been almost 1000 years since Sherlock.‛ ‚I loved getting a little brother,‛ Arce sighed. ‚But I really wanted a younger sister too. I’m really happy right now.‛ A woman stepped out of the lobby, and both twins eyed her. Matronly, but too much so. She had wrinkles around her eyes and lackluster hair. They both started as the next woman came through. She was young and pretty with brown hair. ‚Mine!‛ said Iris before Arce could react. Arce frowned and grumbled. The woman walked down the steps, looking around, then stopped near the bottom. She appeared to be waiting for someone. Iris beamed at Arce, who scowled. ‚I win!‛ crowed her twin, her blue eyes sparkling. ‚It might not be her, dummy,‛ said Arce. A couple more women walked past, and Arce eyed them. Finally, after a group of men, a lone woman came down the stairs wearing a navy blue sarong. ‚Her!‛ said Arce triumphantly. Iris had to admit, the woman was very handsome. Her long black hair was braided beautifully down her back, and she was very graceful as she glided down the stairs. She walked up to the bar near the pool and got a bottle of water, turning to let her warm brown gaze drift among the people there. Then there was a sudden shiver of tension in the air. Both Arce and Iris looked at each other, realizing they were about to meet their new sister. As one, the eyes of mortal and immortal alike were drawn to the lobby steps. A vision walked down the stairs, her beautiful blonde hair drifting loose in the light breeze, floating around her waist like a golden tide. Her electric blue eyes were half closed against the glare of the beach, her fine golden brows arched upward. She wore a khaki shirt and cargo shorts with many pockets. The seeming mismatch of clothing merely made her look even more mysterious and beautiful. She slowly descended the stairs, her bare feet accentuating her long creamy legs. A pair of sunglasses hung on a string around her neck. When she saw the pool and the palm trees her mouth parted in a glorious smile, palpitating every heart at the pool. She paused in her descent, gracefully raising a slim-fingered hand to her eyes to shield them from the sun. ‚Call it a draw,‛ said Arce breathlessly.
‚My goodness,‛ said Iris, feeling her own heart patter. ‚She’s a resonator. Sherlock didn’t mention that.‛ Iris? Arce? Angela looked around the pool, her gaze literally paralyzing people in its wake. The twins both lifted their arms weakly, and Angela smiled again, walking toward them. Every eye watched as she passed. She’s a natural, Arce looked over at Iris with a sigh. She has innocence, presence and grace. Iris’ eyes didn’t leave her approaching sister. Don’t forget she’s absolutely stunning. Even her aura is gorgeous. A resonator. Some people have all the luck. Arce smirked wickedly. Cytherea is going to have a coronary when she meets Angela. Iris laughed. Oh, you’re right! That’ll be fun! ***** Sherlock and Alex stood near the crater in California, trying to discern any information they could from the monstrous aura there. It’s no use, Alex thought after a half hour of silence. He drained his coffee mug. The single aura here is a conglomerated mess. There are no departing aura trails, which means they came and left by vehicle to leave as small a signature as possible. Sherlock nodded. They thought it through. So we have a group of at least twenty feral Warders out there. Alex walked back to Sherlock, who stood with his arms crossed at the lip of the crater, looking down into it. The two men stood side by side, then turned back for their own car. Both had also decided that leaving a signature behind for their adversaries to find would be reckless. Warders were very talented at reading auras. ‚Alex, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.‛ Sherlock drummed the steering wheel with his fingers as they drove away from the crater. ‚Angela said something to me just before she Ascended that made me think hard on something.‛ Alex waited as Franklin sorted out his thoughts. ‚She made me think about how odd it was that both you and Charlotte altered when you met and shared yourselves with each other. How both of you became closer in looks and abilities. How you were able to manipulate and energy tap, and Charlotte was able to use wards and read auras, even if your new abilities weren’t as powerful as a full manipulator.‛ Alex smiled, leaning back in his seat. ‚I don’t think I could have overcome my natural rage and fear when I met Charlotte the first time, if it wasn’t for that strong pull I felt in me. I was drawn to her like a lodestone, even as I was repelled by her heritage. Until then, I’d never met a Hunter in person. I didn’t even know they were human, let alone male or female.
Sherlock saw the images as Alex projected them, of a beautiful dark-haired girl in a black robe. She was staring up at Alex’s face, a mixture of fear, sorrow and pain on her face. ‚It was amazing,‛ he said. ‚Even when we were still enemies, we both felt the bond, a longing in our spirits to be together. When we combined our energies so I could heal her, our very souls became one. Not even thoughts can express what we felt happen. It was like the eye of the storm< all hatred, ferocity, terror and blood rage vanished. All that was left was a feeling of ultimate fulfillment and love. I realized that I’d never been in love with anyone like I was with that beautiful, sorrowful girl who had tried to take her own life in grief.‛ He closed his eyes. ‚She had become my life, my only reason for being.‛ Sherlock remained silent, driving through the open gates of the facility near the main road. ‚One of the side effects was my new ability to create energy taps and manipulate object structures. This didn’t exactly make me best friends with Charlotte’s old Hunter family, who took it as a direct threat to all Hunters. We were hunted many, many times over the years. She, because they figured she’d betrayed them. I, because a Warder with their abilities was too powerful to allow to survive.‛ Alex finished talking, and Sherlock sensed his unspoken thoughts. Their final confrontation in the volcanic mud-choked city of Pompeii. Alex’s tremendous expulsion of energy that had destroyed the pursuing force, protected his trapped love, and trapped his soul in the human life cycle of birth and death for nearly two thousand years. ‚As I mentioned, Angela said something that started me thinking. I have an interesting hypothesis I’ve been considering,‛ said Sherlock. ‚Something I’d like to run by Charlotte. She’s got a diverse background in the sciences that might help.‛ ‚Why not ask Angela?‛ asked Alex. ‚She’s definitely the brightest lady I’ve ever met. Don’t tell Char I said that!‛ He laughed. Sherlock’s face was stone. ‚No need to bother her on this. Besides, she’s on vacation. We can brainstorm this without her.‛ Alex gave his friend a puzzled glance and shrugged. ‚Fine by me. Char’s busy right now. I’ll contact her once we get back to the hotel.‛ ***** Angela grinned at the twins. They were absolutely adorable. The two teenaged immortals were even closer than Alex and Charlotte, moving in sync and thinking exactly the same thing at the same time. They were like normal twins, taken to the ultimate extreme. She knew they were nowhere near as young as they seemed, but she couldn’t help feeling like the oldest of the three.
They constantly bickered and name-called, and she found herself laughing often. Iris was the dreamy romantic, while Arce was the more cynical of the two. What really gratified Angela was how quickly they accepted her as family. As they hugged her wetly at the poolside, she felt her amazement shift to relief and gratitude. They felt this and laughed, hugging her tighter, reveling in her embarrassment and happy thoughts. ‚You two are so gorgeous,‛ she said as they parted. ‚I feel like I’m old and dumpy standing next to you.‛ The twins looked at each other and giggled. Her low self-esteem hadn’t caught up with her new reality. She didn’t realize what an impact she had on everyone around her. This would be a lot of fun. They talked at the small lounging pool for what seemed like hours before the twins exchanged glances again. ‚We’re going bar crawling tonight, and you’re coming,‛ said Arce. ‚Iris and I are going shopping for clothes at the bazaar in an hour. Why don’t you head up to our room now and get a couple hours sleep. We’ll fetch you for the festivities.‛ She reached into her bag and pulled out the room key. Angela had to admit she was tired. It was the first time she’d flown so far by herself, and the exhilaration had finally run down. Correction< she was bone tired. She nodded with a smile, and Arce tossed her the key. ‚Shoo!‛ said Iris. ‚We’ll see you in a couple hours.‛ Angela gracefully glided toward the hotel lobby. Eyes that had been fixed on her since she arrived followed her progression up the stairs and into the hotel. Once she was out of sight, the silence that had hung over the pool area suddenly broke into animated conversation. The twins exchanged humorous thoughts. How’s Angela doing? a sudden voice broke into their thoughts. Hi hun! Iris said. She’s a lovely person! We just sent her up to the hotel room for a nap. You dolt! Arce broke in, miffed. Why didn’t you tell us she’s a resonator? She’s scary gorgeous! There was a mental smile. She’s definitely Cytherea’s sister. Arce and Iris both mentally snorted. Minus the attitude, said Arce. Everyone at the hotel is smitten by her, and she doesn’t even care. Or realize it. Or understand what’s happening. She’s always been beautiful, thought Sherlock. Her looks are only now catching up. Thanks for taking care of her. I’ll check in later. His mental touch was gone. The twins stared at each other. ‚That last comment sounded almost romantic,‛ Iris breathed. ‚Impossible,‛ said Arce. ‚Hello, Iris< it’s Sherlock. Duh.‛
***** Alright, we’re picking you up some clothes, since you didn’t bring anything except your Safari Jane outfit, said Arce. Now, continued Iris, drifting through the racks of dresses in the bazaar on the other side of town, on a scale of one to ten, how much do you want to attract handsome men tonight? Angela blushed furiously in the hotel room, holding one of Iris’ books. Apparently Iris was a romance novelist. I don’t! she said. Without a pause, Arce said, OK, women then? Her blush deepened. Both Iris and Arce laughed, and Angela lightened up, realizing they were teasing her. Don’t get upset at the thought of dressing up attractively, continued Arce. As immortals, we do tend to get jaded after awhile. We like excitement, and parties are a great place to find it. Iris continued. And we like intimate encounters, of all sorts. It comes from being older than dirt. Our perception of morality does tend to shift over the eons. What you perceive as decadent and amoral will no doubt shift as you get a few centuries under your belt. Angela mulled the thought over. The twins seemed to be trying to make a point. Aren’t you afraid that you’ll run into a crazy person and things go bad real quick? The twins were about to laugh, when they picked up Angela’s very real distress. A quick scan of her thoughts, and both twins were aghast. Angela knew they’d read her mind and seen her violent past. Hold it right there, said Arce. Is that what’s bothering you? That you’ll get hurt or raped? Angela was ashamed that they’d seen her episode. Oh hun! said Iris. Don’t you ever worry about that ever again! Didn’t Sherlock tell you what you’ve become? The woman sat up in bed. Well, he did mention Arbiter, but didn’t go into any great detail. The twins both frowned. Angela, listen, said Arce very seriously. What happened to you before won’t ever happen again. Your body is mostly ethereal now< energy. You could take a bullet to the brain pan, and it would only stun you for a few seconds. Angela’s eyes widened, looking at her hands in disbelief, trying to see them as only energy. You could drink poison, have enough electricity to light up Time Square course through your body, take a sword through your heart, Iris said. Mortals, of their own power, don’t possess the ability to destroy or harm us permanently. The only exceptions, Arce continued, are star metal and extreme releases of energy or massive physical damage, like a mountain dropping on you, a high energy explosion or another
immortal’s attacks. Even a tank rolling over you would probably only take you out for half a minute. The woman sitting on the bed touched her hands to her face, feeling the smoothness. Besides the fact that your Arbiter agility is at least ten times faster than the most talented gymnast and you can punch holes in solid steel without breaking a nail, said Arce, pumping a fist. And you can energy tap and manipulate object structures, said Iris. And you can raise wards. Both twins paused, then chimed at the same time. You’re immortal, smiled Iris. And an Arbiter, added Arce. The best of the best. ***** Sherlock sat in the hotel room, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. His mind kept going over the destruction of the facility and the crater near the Rockies. It still didn’t add up. Why had they left Angela alive? She was the developer of the technology that could globally track enemies or allies. He understood why the rogue Warders would destroy the facility. But leaving her alive didn’t make sense. Did they know she was going to Ascend as an Arbiter, and they didn’t want to provoke her new family? Granted, the Arbiters only numbered eight, but they were powerful, and weren’t held back by codes of ethics or morality when threatened. If you pushed them, they didn’t get mad< they got very mad. And when they came after you, you wouldn’t know what hit you. Sherlock shook his head, dismissing the notion. Even he hadn’t realized Angela was Ascending until she was almost complete. He still couldn’t believe the amazing coincidence that had let him be near when she’d started to awaken. He smiled, closing his eyes and picturing her as he’d first met her. She was wearing a soot-covered light blue dress, standing on the staircase looking down at him as he was working a crime scene. Her glasses reflected back the flashlight he had shined on her. Her dark brown hair was pulled tightly behind her head with a wooden hairpin keeping it in place. She had a slight frown on her face. He chuckled as he remembered how angry and embarrassed she’d looked when she realized he was examining her. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen her. Her picture had appeared in a couple of the science journals he had subscriptions to. She wasn’t famous, per-say, but her theories on high energy states intrigued him. Meeting her in real life had been a shock for him, in more ways than one. He knew that she was by no means a beauty contest finalist. Tension had taken its toll on her face. Her brown eyes were cold and businesslike. But< there was something about her that he found<
He shrugged, opened his eyes and looked over at Alex who was sitting in the other chair. The silver-haired Warder was watching the television, but Sherlock could tell by the twinkle in his eyes and happy expression he was mentally chatting with Charlotte, who’d stayed up north in Canada. Sherlock blinked and locked his eyes on the television, though his mind went back to the first time he’d met Charlotte. His grin faded as he remembered. He looked over at Alex and saw he was finished talking to Charlotte. ‚I’m glad you two reunited,‛ Sherlock said with a soft smile. ‚She was a mess the first time I met her.‛ ‚We’ve both changed over the long years,‛ said the silver-haired immortal quietly. ‚We both used to be so full of energy and life back then, living for each day. Life was an adventure.‛ ‚And now?‛ asked Sherlock curiously. Alex ran a hand through his sparkling hair. ‚You must understand,‛ he began. ‚Over the years we’d both reunited briefly at times, while I was caught in the circle of human rebirth. Her proximity and the bond between us woke me from my sleep, and we were able to see each other only moments before my human body would burn out from the power it was holding.‛ He closed his eyes. ‚It was horrible. The torment as we both realized it wouldn’t last, and we might never see each other again.‛ ‚What’s it like, to want someone that much?‛ Sherlock wondered out loud. He realized he’d spoken out loud, and his mouth pursed. His companion smiled. ‚You’re really asking if you’d recognize it if it happened to you, aren’t you?‛ Alex shut off the television and got up, walking to the coffee maker. ‚Don’t feel embarrassed about it, Franklin. I didn’t know it when the call came, and I was already two thousand years old. I just started feeling symptoms like cold flashes, sweating and heart palpitations. And a drawing, like my soul was wanting to go somewhere.‛ ‚Was it so much better, after you found someone?‛ Alex laughed. ‚I have to be honest with you, Franklin. Charlotte and I fight. We have differences of opinion, and our backgrounds and experiences are very different. There are times when both of us are ready to explode.‛ He grinned. ‚But I love every minute of it. She is my life now. I’d die without her.‛ Sherlock grimaced, sipping his bottle of water. ‚You don’t lose yourself when you fall in love,‛ said the silver-haired man. ‚You find yourself.‛ ***** So what you’re saying is you can find someone’s ideal match? said Iris with excitement. Uh, well, yes, I guess, Angela answered, slipping the silk dress over her head. All the software does is analyze points in your electromagnetic signature associated with long term
emotional and mental states. Then the filtering system encodes it, and a quick satellite search is made for signatures that match generally. Then the system works to break these down into closer matches. You can end up with a couple thousand almost-ideal matches globally, in theory. Really?! Iris finished brushing her teeth and rinsed her mouth. ‚That’s awesome! Can we try it?‛ ‚Sure, I guess, although Sherlock has my equipment right now,‛ Angela answered, looking at the dress critically. In particular, the high cut thigh and low cut bodice. ‚Arce, don’t you think this is a little risqué? I’m not used to wearing clothing like this.‛ ‚Nah,‛ said the twin, pulling on some pantyhose. ‚You’ll probably have the most clothes on of anyone there.‛ She smoothed down her dark green mini skirt and gave Angela a wicked smile. ‚I’m interested to see your invention in action too.‛ ‚Well,‛ said Angela blushing, ‚it’s not really my invention. The basic framework is mine, but Franklin explored the aura-matching side of it himself.‛ ‚Really.‛ Arce exchanged glances with Iris. ‚Came up with the idea himself, hmm? I wonder why?‛ ‚I asked him about it,‛ said Angela, wondering whether she should put lipstick on. The dress was embarrassing enough. If she added makeup, she’d feel like a tramp. ‚He said that the application of the technology was as valid as any other reason we had for it. And people had the right to find someone they could love for the rest of their lives.‛ ‚Imagine that,‛ said the twins at the same time.
CHAPTER 2 – THE BLACK KNIGHT He had traveled far from the castle where he’d been raised. News had come that across the channel one of the kings of Britain had decided to unite all of the island together under one overlordship. Eager young men were flocking to Britain, looking to prove themselves in trial and combat. Chivalry was rampant, and sort of annoying. One couldn’t step outside one’s dwelling without stumbling into a duel or competition of arms of some sort. He’d been no different, back then. After booking passage on a ship from the mainland, he’d disembarked on the island of Britain and promptly ended up in no fewer than three brawls before he’d found a tavern to stay the night. His unblazoned shield proclaimed him as a sword without a lord, and therefore made him fair sport for sparring with. His slight frame fooled many opponents. Once swords were drawn, it took no more than two swings for his sparring partner to discover he had made a grave error. He had slowly made his way westward along the main roads, most of his funds spent to buy a horse and trappings. Countless times he’d been called out for a duel, and he’d ended up leaving a trail littered with groaning, bruised and bleeding men behind him. Thankfully word had spread ahead of him, and the number of trivial adventure-seeking youths dwindled as he traveled.
Occasionally he’d been offered work as a man-at-arms for merchants or nobles. These he politely declined, stating he was a knight-errant, merely passing through. The peasants and gentry both bowed as he passed, recognizing in him something that even he didn’t acknowledge. In time, he arrived at his destination of Caerleon. He was interested by the city, built over the remains of a Roman fortress, and before that, an ancient fortress of the original Britains. It was a place of old strength and history, living alongside the people of today. He rode unchallenged through the gates of the castle and into the courtyard, where a small group awaited him. He recognized two of the people by their descriptions, famous throughout the lands. ‚Welcome, young man,‛ said the old man in brown robes. He smiled up at the horseman, his eyes twinkling from his dark face. His brown hands were clasped in front of him, and he seemed as serene as any monk the young rider had met. ‚Welcome to Caerleon. We’ve been expecting you.‛ The lady at his side was as beautiful as rumors had stated. By her silver hair, golden eyes and smooth olive skin, she could only be the faerie-blooded woman rumored to be Arthur’s half sister, Morgan le Fay. Her face was unsmiling, but not hostile. She was dressed in black robes. He quickly dismounted and kneeled to her. ‚Milady,‛ he said, bowing his head. ‚Come,‛ said the woman impatiently, turning quickly away. ‚We’ve been waiting for you for too long.‛ The old man waved his hand, indicating the kneeling man should rise. ‚Waiting for me?‛ asked the young man, perplexed. ‚We’ve been keeping an eye on you, my young friend. The time is right for you to make your entrance. The former age of strife and war is past. The country has been reunited. It’s time to write a new golden age of law and order. Of chivalry.‛ The young man stood. Grooms led his horse off to the stables. The older robed man rubbed his hooked nose and smiled again, watching Morgan stride off toward the main keep. ‚She doesn’t seem happy, sire,‛ the knight-errant said, slowly following behind, his eyes taking in the glorious castle and keep. ‚She’s lost much, lad. Don’t fault her for that. And I’m not your sire,‛ he said laughing. ‚Just call me Merlin, or better yet, Old Friend, for I am that.‛ They walked into the keep together, and soon after, the fabled chamber of Arthur’s knights. In the middle of the large vaulted room was a huge round table, with one vacant seat remaining. The old man walked up to the table and bowed to those present, who respectfully inclined their heads.
‚Behold!‛ boomed the old man. ‚The kingdom has been united, and peace reigns. And on the eve of this joyous occasion, I come with the one who is to complete your company. The Siege Perilous will remain vacant, no longer!‛ There were gasps of shock and surprise as the knights all stood as one. Merlin waved his hand, and the inscription on the back of the vacant seat glowed brightly, lighting up the chamber. ‚Behold!‛ repeated the old man. ‚The greatest knight the world has seen, and will ever see.‛ The young man came out from behind the old man, his armor sparkling in the light of the glowing chair. His long golden hair waved in a hidden breeze, crimson cloak streaming behind him. The symbol of a silver chalice glimmered on his breastplate. He stood in the light, his gaze meeting each of those present without faltering. In time, the glow from the seat faded enough so those present could read the new inscription: ‚Here sits Galahad the Fair, Best of Knights.‛ ***** Angela started awake, the sun in her eyes. She raised a hand to block the light. To her surprise she felt warm bodies to both sides of her. Opening her eyes, she turned her head slightly. Sometime during the night the twins had come back from wherever they’d been partying and crashed in the hotel room. She had returned from the fourth bar early, claiming she was still tired, and not used to all the excitement and drink. The twins had waved her away, and got back to the serious job of flirting and drinking with every male in the place. So they’d returned in a state of inebriated bliss very early in the morning. Instead of sleeping in the other bed, they’d ended up crawling in bed with her. Iris had her head buried in Angela’s shoulder, while Arce had draped an arm and leg over the trapped woman. Angela sighed. The twins were embarrassing sometimes. She felt her lips twitch, then turn up in a smile. It did feel nice though, being loved and having a family. Being intimate like this without feeling threatened gave her a warm feeling. Then why do I still feel lonely? she wondered. Perhaps you’d like some company, an aged male mind replied solemnly. The woman on the bed blushed, realizing she’d been broadcasting. The thoughts that had spoken were from a newcomer< a stranger. Who are you? asked the woman. My name is< he paused. You may call me Roland, if you wish. I’m a Hunter. Angela’s blood froze. No need to fear, young lady. You can meet me in the hotel restaurant for breakfast. I’m famished. I’ve been searching for you for quite awhile.
Me? Disengage yourself from the girls and get dressed. I swear on my honor I mean you no harm. Angela debated. It could be a trick. Could she really trust a Hunter? Then again, could she trust Warders either? She tried to sense any ill intentions from the other mind, but could detect nothing. With spontaneity totally unlike her, she decided to throw caution to the wind and meet this unknown immortal. Give me ten minutes. I’ll be waiting, the old mind stated gravely. ***** Sherlock woke up and rubbed his head, sunlight in his eyes. Grunting, he sat up in bed and stretched. Looking down at the pillow on the other side of the bed, he wondered, not for the first time, what it would be like to see someone laying there beside him. He stared at the pillow sadly and frowned. No time for this. He got up and headed for the bathroom, emerging twenty minutes later to find Alex sitting on the couch with his jacket and shoes on. ‚Morning!‛ said the Warder, getting up. ‚Charlotte’s been considering your ideas from yesterday, and come up with some ideas of her own. She’s being very secretive, and only told me what she’ll need for her experiment. It’ll require a guinea pig, Angela’s hand-held aura reader, your aura harmonics software and a satellite uplink. Interested?‛ Sherlock, for the first time in two weeks, felt his curiosity piqued. ‚Definitely interested. What’d she have in mind?‛ ‚Like I said, she’s not giving it away before we try it. But it sounds promising. She’s been winging her way to Yuma since early this morning. We could be there in a half hour.‛ ‚Yuma?‛ asked the other, putting on his coat. ‚She has some connections at a television station there,‛ Alex said, standing. The young Arbiter did one last check on the hotel room for anything he might have forgotten, then slipped on his shoes. Let’s make tracks then. ***** He was – simply – gorgeous. Angela had drifted into the hotel restaurant, looking for the man that had contacted her. It was easy to spot him. He was at a small corner table for two. Every female eye in the restaurant was on him. Every male was trying to ignore him. ‚Oh my,‛ she whispered to herself, walking toward the table. He saw her coming and smiled, standing as she reached the table.
‚Young lady, you are a vision,‛ he said, his voice dusky and warm. She felt her skin shiver as he pulled back her chair and seated her. Smiling, he walked around and sat himself. She found herself staring at him, and he did the same. He looked like he was in his early thirties. His dark brown hair had the first signs of gray at his temples, small wrinkles at the corners of his black eyes. He had a strong, manly face that set Angela’s heart pumping. He had wide shoulders and narrow hips. He wore black slacks and black button-down shirt. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever met. He must have realized his impact on her, because he soon closed his eyes with a wry smile and laughed. I’m sorry, young lady, he said, his thoughts feeling ancient. I tend to forget how I appear. And I’m not here to seduce you. This hit Angela like a bucket of cold water. He’d been right. She would have gladly have been seduced by him. Something about him exuded sensuality< besides his appearance. I wasn’t prepared to meet another resonator, he continued, although when you get my age, it’s nice to receive pleasant surprises. Let’s get something to eat, then I will tell you why I’m here. Resonator? she repeated later over a dish of chorizo sausage and scrambled eggs. He paused. It’s a very uncommon phenomenon in immortals. It’s not totally unrelated to why I’m here. Simply put, our aura is actively broadcasting to those around us. Call it natural charisma. It’s not far from the truth. She looked at him, wondering if she could ever be mad at him, or strike him if he meant her any harm. She was unhappy to admit it would take a great effort of will. On the other hand, he seemed to be managing well enough in her presence. I’m very old, he said, reading her thoughts. I’ve built up resistances over the years to various forms of mental attacks, and built up my ability to hear others’ thoughts. Angela! The thought came from Iris. You fool! You shouldn’t be there! ‚Ah, here come the twins,‛ Angela said. She had decided to trust this strange, ancient Hunter named Roland. ‚Careful, or they’ll be the ones seducing you.‛ The twins dragged themselves into the restaurant, getting a table beside the other two immortals. Roland, said Arce. Her tone was unfriendly. Arce and Iris, nodded the Hunter. Why are you here? said Iris. It was the first time Angela had heard the girl so unhappy. Calm yourselves, he sighed. We’re done eating and getting to know each other. Now I’m ready to say why I’ve come. Angela felt something between the three immortals. It felt like betrayal, ages and ages old. She looked at the twins and realized again that you couldn’t judge age by
appearances. The twins both wore scowls on their faces, and she had a sudden revelation that all three had been lovers in times past. I’ve heard, along with many of my kin, what this young lady has discovered, he began. There is a faction of Hunters that would like to get her, so we can use the technology to locate the Stronghold of the Warders and wipe it out. Iris and Arce snorted. We already figured that out. Arce’s thoughts dripped acid. Now if you’re done, it’d be nice if you left. The male lit a cigarette unhurriedly. He smiled gently. It was beautiful, and Angela felt the emotional impact of it from the humans in the restaurant who’d been watching. I’ll come straight to the point, since you’d rather kill me than talk to me. His hand reached across the table, patting Angela’s hand. She blushed, feeling the tingles on her skin. I want Angela to help me find my soul mate. Both twins’ faces dropped from scowls to shock. Angela spoke out loud, amazed. ‚Really?‛ Roland’s eyes looked at her sadly. ‚Eternity is terribly lonely, young lady,‛ his dusky voice said. ‚I would like to find my special someone to share it with.‛ ***** A television broadcasting station. Sherlock shrugged. The equipment was all present for a satellite uplink. He had the handheld unit for aura detection and Angela’s laptop with all the software they would need. ‚Now this is just a theory,‛ said Charlotte, walking into the building with the two men in tow. ‚But I’ve been thinking about it a lot since that day back at my place, plus what you said to Alex yesterday in the desert, and I went over again how unusual it was that Alex and I would come together.‛ Alex raised an eyebrow. She raised her own eyebrow and shrugged. ‚So, what if we aren’t unique at all?‛ she continued. ‚I’ve been gathering facts, and I’ll lay them out for you so you can mull them over. ‚One: Something that bothered me is the combination of our skills. Both Alex and I could use Warder and Hunter abilities after we joined. ‚Two: Both Hunter and Warders can associate with us without the blood rage.‛ Alex protested. ‚Not quite true, love. Look at how they were in the beginning. Your kin was constantly hunting us.‛ She looked at him intently. ‚Was there blood rage though? I don’t think so. It was fear< fear at what we’d both become.‛ They all got in the elevator and Charlotte punched the button for the 10th floor.
‚Three: When we came together it felt like we had joined, our hearts and souls becoming one. And<‛ she paused dramatically, ‚our blood.‛ Ah, said Sherlock. Interesting. Very, very interesting. ‚What?‛ sighed Alex. ‚Please remember, I’m not a super genius like you two.‛ ‚If I’m following Charlotte correctly,‛ said Franklin, his eye widening, ‚she may have discovered the way to end the war between Hunters and Warders.‛ Suddenly a thought came through to the three immortals. Hello everyone, said Angela, her thoughts distressed. Angela! Charlotte cut in. Are you alright? I have a problem I’d like you three to help with, if you could. And we’d like your help here too, said the ex-Hunter. I have a Hunter here named Roland who’d like us to use the aura harmonics on himself to find his aura match. Charlotte broke down and started laughing, her normally serious face lit up. She leaned against Alex for support, while he grinned too. Tell him we’ll be ready for him in Yuma in three hours, she said. And thanks. He’s exactly what we were looking for. Angela broke off communications, obviously confused. Alex smiled. ‚That girl is surrounded by an aura of amazing luck,‛ he said. Sherlock leaned against the back wall of the elevator, his eyes shut. Angela. Coming here. ***** Charlotte had noticed Franklin slipping out a half hour before the others were due to arrive. Where are you going? she sent him, privately. They’re going to be here soon. His emotions were clamped tight. I can’t be here when she comes back, he said. Tell her I have to do something somewhere. She frowned. Did you two have a fight or something? The feeling of Wards snapping up, and flight. I’ll see you later Charlotte. Say goodbye to Alex for me. ***** Roland stood in the center of the broadcasting room, away from any objects that might interfere with a detailed aura recording. Angela ran the handheld around him, particular emphasis on his upper body and head.
‚This won’t take long,‛ she said to him as she finished up and walked back her laptop, already set up with a broadband link to the building’s mainframe. Her eyes once again swept the room, but Sherlock hadn’t arrived. Alex and Charlotte had appropriated one of the small recording rooms in the building, lighting the ‚Recording in Session‛ sign above the hall door. No one had asked if they had permission; Charlotte’s serious expression and immaculate suit discouraged questions. Angela had hoped Sherlock would be there to meet her. It’d been two weeks since they’d last seen each other, and she was disappointed he’d not been there. Charlotte could feel the depression from the girl as she plugged the handheld unit into the computer, and she cursed the fleeing Arbiter. The girl appeared to be working efficiently, but Charlotte could feel the hurt grow as she realized Sherlock wasn’t going to show. Angela’s fingers flew over the keyboard. ‚Roland, when we do the search you’ll have to understand that there will be many search results that will show compatible auras for you. What we’ve set the system up for is long-term compatibility, rather than spur of the moment attraction.‛ ‚Lust, you mean,‛ said Iris. She scowled at Roland, who remained expressionless. ‚Makes sense, though,‛ said Arce, glaring at Roland. ‚You wouldn’t want to end up with someone who had a passing attraction to you, but turned out to be a narcissistic jerk.‛ Roland winced. ‚You two still aren’t on about that,‛ Charlotte groaned. ‚It’s been, what< three or four thousand years?‛ She rolled her eyes. ‚It hurts still, you know,‛ said Iris. ‚He ran off with a whore of Babylon,‛ Arce frowned. ‚Literally.‛ ‚Search is coming up,‛ said Angela, eager to change the subject. ‚Ten bucks says that he ends up with a crack-smoking hooker in Hong Kong,‛ Arce sneered. ‚Me love you long time,‛ Iris said. Angela rounded on them, her hurt and anger making her snap. ‚OK, that’s it you two! Either you get mature, or you get out! Understand?‛ There was dead silence in the recording booth. Roland finally broke it with laughter. ‚Young lady, I thank you for your defense, but I deserve what the girls heap on me.‛ He bowed to her. ‚I am entirely at fault in this matter, and they are justly angry with me.‛ The combination of Angela’s anger and Roland’s admission of guilt had taken the wind out of the twin’s sails. They sat sulkily in the corner, wanting to leave, but curious about the result of the test. Lights flickered on the screen, and everyone gathered around to look. It showed a global map with pinpricks of light. Angela smiled.
‚Roland, these are the people that your aura is compatible with.‛ The dark haired immortal looked amazed. ‚So many.‛ Angela moused-up to a control on the screen. ‚Now we’re going to fine tune the results. Right now it’s on 96% compatibility.‛ She moved a slider a fraction point upward, and most of the lights vanished. ‚97%.‛ Despite their anger moments before, the twins began to get excited, breathing faster. ‚98%.‛ The lights mostly vanished. Everyone crowded in more. Angela felt Roland put a hand on her shoulder and squeeze gently. ‚99%.‛ There were only about a dozen lights on the entire globe. The woman paused, getting excited herself. She forced herself to breath. ‚Roland, before I take this up a notch, I want you to know that there probably won’t be a 100% match between your aura and another. Each step up is inversely exponentially harder on the odds of a match. 100% is theoretically impossible. Don’t be disappointed if it doesn’t pan out, alright?‛ He squeezed her shoulder. ‚Young lady, you’ve already given me hope that there’s someone out there for me. You have eleven people on screen right now that are almost perfect. It won’t hurt to see if there’s someone who is.‛ Angela nodded. ‚Here goes.‛ She had a sick feeling in her stomach as she took the setting up to 100% compatibility, watching the lights all vanish. But they didn’t. There was a single match. The immortals all murmured in shock around her. Roland’s hand squeezed her shoulder, almost painfully. He breathed sharply. ‚Who? Where?‛ Angela’s hands shook. She calmed herself as she zoomed in on the location. ‚How’s your Russian?‛ ‚Я свободно владею русским языком,‛ he smiled. ‚Good,‛ she said. ‚I’m fluent too. Let’s go see how this is going to play out.‛ ‚Road trip!‛ the twins shouted at once, jumping up and down. They had totally forgotten their fit of temper in the face of something new and exciting. Alex shook his head at the backs of the twins. Charlotte leaned into him with an excited smile, and he kissed her. I hope this turns out well, she said. Stage 1 complete.
***** Sherlock was halfway across the state when he realized what he was doing. He landed on a butte overlooking a small town, and sat on the rock ledge. He was afraid. It was an unpleasant feeling, one he’d only experienced a handful of times in his thousand years. Why was he afraid? He picked up a rock and tossed it out, watching it drop to the floor of the valley far below. Damn that Tennyson and his damnable poem. It trivialized his entire life and what he strove for. Yes< he concentrated on his tasks to the exclusion of worldly pleasures. He’d avoided the trap of the other immortals, who indulged in their personal vices and became corrupt by them. His was a deeper, more meaningful existence, to help those who needed it. He scowled, watching as the sun went down over the broken land to the west. He was still a knight-errant, wandering the world looking for injustice or imbalance and striving to right it. Nothing had changed since he’d been a human. And his passion was reserved for the greater good, not himself. That was the chivalric code. Why then, when he saw the relationship between Charlotte and Alex, did he feel jealous? He sat there in the deepening darkness. Finally, he gathered his strength and faced the real problem. He was afraid of his feelings for Angela. He thought he knew how she felt about him, but he didn’t know if he could return the feelings. It was very possible that that part of him had died a long time ago, if he’d ever had the capability to love someone. Most of all, there was the oath he’d taken when he Ascended, so many years past. Best she forgot about him and find someone who could cherish her. Franklin smiled. It was a noble thought, but it still made him feel sick. There was something about her that just< He knew what a resonator was< his sister Cytherea was one. It had driven her crazy that he had never been infatuated with her as much as every other male of the species. It made her go to ridiculous lengths to get his attention, before he told her to back off, that he wasn’t interested. But with Angela, he’d felt the attraction when he’d first met her. It was something new and terrifying to him. He’d loved her strict gaze, her tightly bound hair, her buck teeth, and her marvelously fit body that she hid under her formal work clothes. She had an honest way of thinking, and was brilliant. Even her sadness that she wore like another set of clothing made him want to be closer to her.
Now that she was resonating, he was deathly afraid that he wouldn’t be able to resist her. Which was the real reason he’d sent her south to the twins. Alex sat down beside him before he was aware he wasn’t alone. Sherlock jumped up in surprise, and Alex smiled up at him from his seat. ‚Holy crap!‛ Sherlock almost shouted. ‚Don’t EVER do that again!‛ The silver-haired immortal smiled. ‚We’re heading to St. Petersburg. Let’s go.‛ Sherlock shook his head slowly, calming down. ‚Not coming,‛ he said. ‚I have stuff I have to do here.‛ Alex tapped his silver haired head, shaking it with disbelief. ‚Who’re you trying to fool, youngster?‛ Sherlock sighed, realizing the older immortal had read his thoughts. ‚I can’t do that to her,‛ he said. ‚What if<‛ Alex started laughing. The Arbiter’s face became stonier, not impressed with this display. Finally Alex wiped tears from his eyes and was chuckling. He looked up at the angry immortal and smiled. ‚The universe is full of ‘what if’s’ Franklin.‛ He got to his feet, and once again his warm aura wrapped around the younger man. ‚Love is amazing. It’s like a flower in a garden. If you don’t take care of it, it can wither and die. If you do give it care, it can bloom into something beautiful.‛ He draped an arm over Sherlock’s shoulder. ‚And you don’t have to acknowledge it, saying ‘You are a flower! I want you to bloom! You can just be near, giving love and support, and if it’s wanted and needed, it will give its gratitude with beauty and joy returned.‛ Sherlock sighed. ‚I don’t know if I can be that passive. I don’t know how I’ll react when I see her. There are reasons I can’t lose control.‛ Alex clasped his hands behind his back while the younger man despaired. This is ridiculous. Being honest with myself tells me I shouldn’t go near her. No it isn’t, smiled the older immortal. It’s telling you that you’re afraid, because you’ve never felt this way before, and the unknown is terrifying. The Arbiter took a mental step back. You’re probably right. Alex laughed again. Don’t worry. Uncle Alex and Aunt Charlotte will be there protecting your honor. Now come on< let’s go. Everyone’s waiting for us.
CHAPTER 3 – KATIYA Everyone met in New York, on the Empire State building at midnight. When Alex and Sherlock arrived, Angela was holding her breath, wondering why she was so excited. The two men had landed and were circulating amongst those present. When Sherlock finally stood in front of her, she felt the rest of the world fade. ‚Hello,‛ she said quietly, her eyes slightly downcast, not daring to meet his gaze. He felt a sinking in his stomach as he stood there. She was so beautiful that he didn’t know what to say. The same Angela stood there that he knew and was attracted to, but her resonance< by God. ‚Hi,‛ was all he could manage. Alright, quick stop for some fuel, said Charlotte. It’s going to be a long flight. Anyone know of an all-night all-you-can-eat restaurant? Roland nodded. I have an apartment here in New York. The servants keep the pantry well-stocked for parties. Let’s go then, said Charlotte. They all took off. Angela and Sherlock were last to leave the tower, like they’d just awakened from a trance. This didn’t escape Iris and Arce’s notice. ***** Oh my, oh my, said Iris on her private mental channel to Arce. That’s the millionth time you’ve said that, groused Arce. The group had descended as they’d left Sweden behind them and entered the Baltic Sea. They flew a tight formation of seven, staying well above the high waves that stormed on the sea. It was an extraordinary company of immortals. Half the Arbiters on Earth were present, plus an ex-Warder, ex-Hunter, and an ancient Hunter. Of course, this wasn’t nearly as interesting as the drama going on between Sherlock and Angela. They both thought they were acting cool and collected, but the emotions were rolling off them in waves. You’d have to be a complete idiot not to feel it. The twins mentally smirked. Hey hun, how’re you doing? asked Iris. Angela seemed to come awake with a start. Oh, good, she said. I’m not tired at all. It’s all the adrenaline, Iris nodded mentally. You’re pretty excited. What? The twins could feel her blush. You know< this is pretty exciting stuff, finding an immortal’s soulmate. Oh yeah, it is. I’m looking forward to it. Right. We’ll check in on you again soon.
Thanks, Iris. The twins giggled. Hey hun, how’s it going? asked Arce. Sherlock’s eyes snapped away from the blonde girl flying ahead and slightly lower than him. Doing well, he said. Thanks again for looking after Angela for a few days. Arce smiled. It was our pleasure. She’s an absolute doll. I forgot what it was like to be young, when everything was new and wonderful. She’s like a breath of fresh air. His eyes wandered back to Angela. Yeah. There was silence for a bit as Arce wondered how she’d continue. She wondered if she should tease him with some sort of love triangle nonsense with Roland. To her amazement, she decided to be tactful. She’s suffered in the past, she said. But she’s resilient. There’s a core of strength in her that’s daunting. She’s starting to heal. Sherlock’s gaze was locked on the blonde immortal girl. I think, Arce continued, that if a certain someone were to become interested in her, she wouldn’t object to his advances. He was so shocked, he almost dropped into the ocean. If you need to talk, your older sisters are here for you with sage advice and wisdom. Roland broke into their private conversation to their utter surprise. Sorry for interrupting, he said sardonically, but I’d rather get romantic advice from couple of orangutans. How did you do that? asked Arce with amazement. This is a private line. He gave the mental equivalent of a shrug. With great age comes great wisdom. And if I hear Iris say ‘Oh my’ one more time, I just might take my own life in a fit of depression. Oh my, said Iris on cue. ***** I never thought I’d say this, but this isn’t good, Alex said, sweeping lower as they entered the bay of St. Petersburg. We definitely have a Warder presence, probably three or four. And they’ve sensed Roland. The old Hunter looked worried. I don’t want to fight today, but if they threaten my soul mate’s existence, I will tear them to pieces.
It won’t come to that, Sherlock said. His confused thoughts had dropped from him. Here was warfare, something he was well versed in. They will be told it’s a mission of mercy, and to withdraw. Roland was silent. I can feel it now, he said finally. It’s a tugging, drawing me forward. They could feel his emotions as he struggled with the feeling. That’s it! Alex said. That’s the pull! It’s weak, but exactly the same, Charlotte confirmed. Roland hovered uncertainly, almost like he was scenting something, then with a burst of speed the others could barely see, he vanished into the buildings of the city. Everyone looked at Alex, who shrugged, and leisurely followed the aura of the ancient Hunter. To the Warders of St. Petersburg, Iris broadcasted. This is Iris, Arce, Sherlock and Angela of the Arbiters. We are entering the city on a mission of peace with Roland the Hunter. Do not engage him. There was an immediate burst of surprise from the four native Warders. Why? asked their leader suspiciously. Um, said Arce acidly, because we said so? There was silence. They’re going to withdraw, said Roland shortly. But they’re not happy. They’re getting reinforcements, and they’re going to watch what we’re up to. Fine, said the Warder leader moments later. You have permission to enter St. Petersburg. But keep an eye on him, and we’ll be keeping an eye on all of you. Alex grinned. Roland, you’re going to have to tell me how you do that some day. Angela didn’t feel well. She exchanged her thoughts with Sherlock, who confirmed with his own thoughts. A build up in Warder force would probably result in Hunters becoming suspicious and building up their own force. The same as the day of Angela’s Ascension. Who knew what would happen when two armies of immortal enemies stood staring at each other, their blood singing with hatred? A sanatorium. Roland had arrived at his destination. Everyone felt his dread. It might not mean anything, Angela said hopefully. She might be a doctor or a staff member. The old Hunter steeled himself and walked inside the building. Alex and the others arrived a couple minutes later. They found him walking through the building, his eyes wide. All the occupants quieted and stared as he walked past, drinking in his inhuman beauty. Gods below, he said. I thought these places had been shut down in the 1800s. The squalor was horrible. The long-term sick had been seemingly dumped here and left to die. Linens were filthy. Angela could feel herself start to retch at the odors. Sherlock came to her and held her, erecting a ward to bring in fresh air.
Where? Roland wandered through, eyeing each miserable patient as he passed. He almost missed her. As he passed the bed with the swaddled occupant, he felt a tug and stopped. Turning back, he walked back to the bed and stopped beside it. Charlotte took the clipboard from the foot of the bed and rifled through it, finally handing it to Angela, who read it carefully. ‚Katiya Itsov. Twenty-nine. Severe diabetic.‛ She frowned. ‚Her family couldn’t afford treatments, so she’s in here until her body shuts down. She also has diabetic retinopathy.‛ ‚English, please,‛ said Alex, ready to be sick. ‚She’d blind,‛ said Sherlock. ‚And mortal.‛ Roland leaned over and picked her up. ‚She’s not staying here,‛ he said, straightening. ‚Moscow State University has the facilities to deal with advanced diabetes.‛ Wait, said Alex. I can help, if just to reduce her body’s toxicity. I can heal. ‚But you can’t cure it, can you?‛ asked Angela. ‚No,‛ he answered sadly. ‚I don’t know enough about the disease to cure it.‛ Do it, please, said Roland, his eyes not leaving the face of the unconscious girl as he held her. Then we get her out of this hell hole. ***** The Warders had held their distance, their sullen wariness giving way to curiosity as the party left St. Petersburg and headed southeast for Moscow. They could sense the small group had left with one extra person, a very sick human girl. Caution warring with interest, they decided to follow and keep an eye on this odd grouping of immortals. ***** Katiya gained consciousness three hundred miles out of St. Petersburg. Roland sensed it immediately. ‚Hello, little one,‛ he said softly in Russian, smiling down at her. She tilted her head slightly, her milky eyes open. ‚You have a strange accent. It’s nice.‛ She weakly smiled. ‚I don’t feel well.‛ ‚You will soon, child,‛ he said. ‚We’re taking you to the university hospital in Moscow, where you’ll get treatment and will be fine again.‛ ‚You’re very warm,‛ she said, closing her blind eyes. ‚You smell nice too.‛ Roland closed his own eyes. Everything about this girl tore at his soul. He could feel the woman inside, her rich deep thoughts. He knew his pulse had already synchronized itself to hers, his breathing following suit. It was like a light had come on in his heart. It’s her, he said to Angela. You’ve found her for me. Thank you so much, young lady. Angela stared at the Hunter and his bundle sadly, dropping back to where Sherlock was flying behind her. Wordlessly, she hugged him in mid flight, sobbing into his jacket. He didn’t even think, just wrapped his arms around her and gave her warmth and support.
***** ‚We can’t leave,‛ said Charlotte to the others. They all sat in the staff lounge of the Faculty of Fundamental Medicines building, Moscow State University. ‚If I’m right, and I hope to the gods I am, this is not over yet.‛ ‚What can we expect to accomplish?‛ said Iris. ‚I mean, it’s romantic and all, but we’re done. I’m sure the Warders we sense on the outskirts of town won’t make a scene once we explain what’s up.‛ It’s not over yet, said Alex. Charlotte’s theory is a sound one. And if we all stay near, it has a greater chance of success. I’m still not clear on what this is about, Angela asked. I thought our whole objective was just to find Roland his mate. Charlotte smiled. Exactly. Sherlock tapped his lip pensively. I think I’m beginning to understand where you’re going with this. It’s an extraordinary theory. The ex-Hunter’s eyes locked with his. What’s your evaluation of it? He thought about it carefully. His eyebrows beetled down, then rose. He smiled. ‚There’s a good chance you’re right.‛ Angela looked at Sherlock. He’d once told her that he’d never stated anything unless he knew beyond a doubt that it was truth. Although she was still in the dark about what was happening, she felt her excitement start to build. Raven haired Charlotte beamed. ‚Here’s the plan. We spend as much time as humanly possible around Katiya and Roland, rotating in as others get tired. Sneak in after visiting hours. The more of us, the better.‛ ‚The point being<?‛ asked Arce, speaking what everyone had been thinking. Charlotte grinned. ‚Ever try to jumpstart a car?‛ There was a cloud of confused thoughts from the others, but she didn’t explain her cryptic comment.
CHAPTER 4 – AWAKENINGS Angela, Charlotte and Roland sat in chairs around the St. Petersburg girl while she slept. The dialysis machine was hooked up to her, whirring quietly. The youngest Arbiter was relieved to see Katiya had lost her jaundiced look, and was showing healthy pink cheeks.
‚She was treated harshly in her short life,‛ said Roland quietly, leaning back in the lounge chair the university staff had brought in for him. From the reaction he’d received from the officials when they’d arrived late yesterday, Angela guessed he was a major donator to the institution’s coffers. ‚She was ridiculed when she was young for being an orphan, and constantly beaten by her school masters. She was treated like a dog by her foster family, and when she contracted diabetes, they dumped her into the sanatorium without a second thought, abandoning her.‛ ‚Gods,‛ whispered Charlotte. Angela felt sympathy for the young girl. She knew what it was like to be an orphan, all alone. But while she lived a privileged life with her intelligence, Katiya had done nothing but suffer. ‚She’s still so vibrant,‛ said Roland, his hand resting on her forehead. ‚There’s not an ounce of spite in her against those who’d wronged her. I would have tracked them all down and revisited their torment upon them tenfold.‛ He smiled. ‚But she would have stopped me.‛ The bond had grown between them. Angela’s newly awakened senses could feel the aura of this ancient man, much older than written history itself, twining with the pure aura of the girl barely twenty-nine. Even while asleep, the girl’s light wrapped itself around him. They both shared this strange connection. She couldn’t help but think this all seemed very familiar. Love? asked Charlotte. It’s almost your shift. Angela’s mind expanded outward, finding both the men in the Physical Fitness faculty, taking advantage of the Olympic-sized swimming pool. She felt Charlotte’s smile at the sight of Alex in borrowed swimming trunks. Hello handsome, she sent to him, Angela still connected to her thoughts. The ex-Warder didn’t miss a stroke as he traveled his lap. Hello, my once-silver angel, he sent back with a mental smile and a wave of love. Angela was swept back by the exciting sensation, feeling like a voyeur. How’s the patient? Angela’s attention drifted away from the conversation, focusing on the blonde man who’d just pulled himself out of the pool and sat on its edge. She felt her pulse quicken as she studied his bare chest with its fine golden hair plastered to the toned muscles. He had ridges of muscles in his abdomen that she wished she could touch. His shoulders were wide and strong. Roland had been the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, until now. Alex and Charlotte backed away from her thoughts as quietly as possible without disturbing her. Roland’s lips curved up slightly as he tried to ignore the intensity of the woman sitting beside him. I’m feeling refreshed now, sweetheart, continued Alex. Does anyone need to rest for a bit? I can substitute in. Angela was going to decline, when Charlotte interjected.
Angela’s been here six hours already. She needs some down time. Alex nodded mentally. Alright, I’ll be there in ten minutes. Have to take a shower. Send her down here. The water’s nice. Angela caught herself yawning and smiled. Sounds wonderful, but I think I need sleep more. Where do we crash? Roland broke into the conversation. The administration staff has set aside two rooms for us. Iris and Arce are already asleep in one of them. She let her mind roam, and found the two girls nearby. Ah, great. I’ll be leaving then. Thanks, and good night. She stood and walked out of the room, dragging her feet. Her body was barely functioning as she followed the trail her mind had marked out. She opened the door and entered, slightly confused. The room was large, with green lockers lining the wall. She frowned, walking past benches. Shower stalls in the room to her right. Reaching the door at the far side of the room, she opened it and looked out into a darkened massive domed chamber. Water rippled, sparkling with the dim lighting. She realized where she was now. Why had she come here? He was swimming across her path, not noticing as she stood against the door watching his powerful strokes. Her heartbeat climbed as she saw the water shine on his bare back, his long hair gleaming behind him. Her breath came rapidly as she watched him move smoothly, economically through the silky water. Each arm rose and plunged in a hypnotic dance of power and rhythm. She felt the turbulence in the water, how it parted itself willingly to let him through, as he focused his will upon it and made the water his to control. She gasped, a jolt of pleasure rushing through her, making her knees feel weak. She slid down the door and sat on the cement floor, her face hot. Averting her gaze, she breathed deeply to focus her concentration. She forced herself into visualizing a karate kata, finally calming down as the ritualized moves brought her serenity. She lifted her head and opened her eyes. To her shock Sherlock was staring at her, his arms propped up on the side of the pool near her, his body still submerged. He was like a stranger, someone she’d never seen before. His eyes were soft and warm, and there was color in his cheeks. He looked at her with an expression she couldn’t interpret. ‚You looked like you were napping,‛ he said softly. ‚I’m exhausted,‛ she said, blushing. He opened his mouth, then closed it. Angela wondered what he’d been about to say.
‚Are you getting out now?‛ she asked, half hoping he’d climb out of the water so she could see him again. His face reddened. ‚Uh, no. Not yet. I’m going to stay in for a few more minutes.‛ He looked away from her, down the length of the walkway. She sighed and got to her feet, still a little unsteady. ‚I’m heading for bed then.‛ She opened the door and slipped into the women’s change room, unaware he was staring at her as she vanished. You should come too. You look tired. He groaned as he turned away, releasing his tension in some very violent laps of the pool. The waves were churning when he’d finally felt himself relax enough to leave the water. He walked to the men’s change room, pausing as he passed the door where she’d been. He touched the door. Sniffing the air, he swore he could smell her scent still. His pulse thudded in his ears. Quickly he left her scent behind, heading to the men’s room. As he showered off the pool water, he envisioned her again, sitting against the door. Her long golden hair wrapped around her like wings, her soft white cotton dress hugging her gently as she rested, her face flushed, breaths coming deep, making her chest rise and fall. She was intoxicating. This was insane. He turned off the shower and raised a ward, pushing the water away from his body and instantly drying. He needed sleep. Maybe he’d talk to her in the morning and straighten things out. This madness had to end. ***** The twins smiled at each other in the darkness of their bedroom. ‚I,‛ said Arce, ‚have a diabolical plan which will be worth many laughs in the morning.‛ ‚Do tell!‛ said Iris, playing the straight man. ***** Angela opened the door and stumbled in. She was surprised to see the bedside lamp on, and the twins already up, dressed and active. ‚Your shift,‛ they said, slipping on their shoes and heading out. Angela was relieved they hadn’t felt like conversation. She turned off the light, slowly slipped the dress over her head, stripped off her underwear and shoes, and climbed into bed, falling asleep within a minute. ‚Wow, that was fast,‛ said Iris with her head cocked, listening to Angela’s sleeping mind.
‚Step 2,‛ smiled Arce, walking with Iris to the door of the adjacent room where the men had been allocated. They both stood outside it and started chattering away. Soon, Sherlock came down the hall. Hello ladies, he said, his exhaustion showing. His eyes squinted against the corridor lights. Heyas hun, they both said. Wow, you look as wiped as Angela, said Arce, nodding to the door of the empty room they stood in front of. He smiled weakly. You know, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you slipped in with her, said Iris with a smile. He raised an eyebrow, walking past the two girls to the next room. Why don’t you two get a new hobby? he sighed, entering the darkened room they’d left only minutes before. He didn’t bother turning the light on. Good night. Sweet dreams, the twins chimed. He was asleep nearly as fast as Angela had been. Iris looked at her sister with admiration. You’re a genius, she said. It’s a gift, answered Arce with a wicked gleam in her eye. Let’s go meet our Warder spectators and see if any of them are cute. ***** Roland, despite his phenomenal fortitude, had finally passed out in the lounge chair in Katiya’s room. Charlotte herself yawned, leaning into Alex. Not much longer, love, she said. I’m sure of it. Alex kissed her on top her head. The twins are doing a fine job out there, he thought wryly. They’re socializing with the Warders, who don’t know what to think. They know Arbiters are purely neutral and wouldn’t do anything to endanger the balance. At the same time, they want to come in here and wipe out Roland. But it’s the girl Katiya that’s got them the most curious. Ah, Charlotte smiled. I suppose she would be interesting to them. They’re probably confused at Roland’s interest in a sick mortal girl. The twins have explained it to them. They’re intrigued, despite their hatred of him. The two sat together, sharing their warmth and love. Suddenly Alex perked up, his eyes widening. His attitude alerted Charlotte immediately. What?! He tightened his arm around her, staring at the sleeping girl intently. A whisper passed across and through their minds, almost like the brush of soft silk across skin. Charlotte sprang out of her chair and stood over the girl, looking into her face intently. Chaotic images sprang into the minds of the two alert immortals. Charlotte quickly latched an energy tap onto the girl, and Alex erected a ward around her.
‚Roland, wake up,‛ Charlotte said tensely, shaking the ancient immortal. His black eyes snapped open, instantly focusing on the woman. ‚Katiya needs you.‛ ***** What’s that? asked one Warder, his eyes becoming unfocused. The red headed girl who was hugging him stopped, her own eyes staring into the distance. That’s odd, thought the nearby Iris, sipping on a glass of vodka. Katiya’s aura just became subdued. What is he doing to her? asked the lead Warder, instantly suspicious. I don’t trust this Hunter. Arce squeezed him again. Of course you don’t, love. That’s a given. But he doesn’t mean her any harm. She kissed his ear. Besides, there are four other immortals there, including two Arbiters. If he was planning something diabolical, they’d know it. He’s just wanting to find his soulmate, lovers, said Iris, linking an arm with two of the other Warders. It’s romantic, really. Makes me feel all gooey and stuff. She leaned into one, rubbing against him. The Warders exchanged thoughts. If the Hunter was trying something that would result in humans coming to harm, the Arbiters, by their nature, would be on him like wolves on a fox. The lone Warder raised his glass of vodka. ‚Lyubov!‛ he toasted, smiling at the twins. He shot down the glass to the roaring approval of the other three men, who raised their own glasses. To love, agreed the twins, knocking back their own shots of vodka. ***** There was a delicious feeling, like she’d just felt Christmas pass through her soul. She rolled over, feeling warm and fuzzy and happy. She didn’t want to open her eyes, but she already felt consciousness rushing to her, and she reluctantly let it. Opening her eyes, she stared at the white ceiling above her, glorying in the wonderful feelings flowing through her. She hadn’t slept so soundly since< She thought back to the motel near the Rockies, when she’d asked Franklin to come to share the bed with her. Yes, that was it. They had just slept there, comforting each other with their presence. It was the first time she’d realized that she’d found a man she could trust. She turned her head, wanting more than anything to see him lying beside her again. She stared into his sleeping face, feeling the heat rise in her own. Oh, she whimpered. Oh no. She felt her nakedness beneath the sheets, feeling like she was displaying herself to the entire world. If she moved, she might wake him up, and if she was halfway to her clothes, he’d get an eyeful.
And just what exactly was he doing in her bed, anyway?! The covers were low enough that she saw his chest was bare. Oh god. What if he’s naked too? Her breath came quickly, trying not to imagine his body, but her imagination filling in details. His eyes didn’t open, but she could tell he was waking up. She panicked, wondering what he was going to do when he did. Oh no, he thought, quickly realizing where he was, and with whom. His eyes remained shut, even tighter than they had been in sleep. ‚What are you doing here?‛ she hissed in alarm. ‚This is the girls’ room!‛ ‚I’m sorry,‛ he said, apologetic. ‚I didn’t know. I just collapsed without thinking.‛ The woman relaxed a bit. ‚I’m sorry for my reaction, Franklin,‛ she said. ‚I just wasn’t expecting you to be here when I woke up.‛ He opened his eyes, meeting her bright blue gaze. That was a mistake. She was fantastically gorgeous, and lying beside her in bed with no clothes on was intense. He groaned again, feeling himself react. His face flushed. They both stared at each other. Angela felt her heartbeat quicken, pulse pounding in her ears. She felt waves of heat and cold flush through her body. Sherlock’s chest tightened as he saw her face redden, her tongue wetting her lips. He felt himself tremble, his entire body aching to touch her. Breakfast time everyone! the twins broadcasted through the building. Katiya’s room in fifteen minutes. The two young immortals lying near each other closed their eyes, breaking the spell. You go first, Angela, said Franklin, averting his eyes. I can’t, she said, embarrassed. I’m sort of< naked. He groaned, and she heard something in it that made her pulse quicken again. You go first, she said. I can’t, he said gruffly. I’m sort of naked, too. And I’m< he stopped. It’d be embarrassing for me too. They opened their eyes again, looking at each other. My clothes are just beside you on the floor, said the woman. If you can reach them, I’ll put them on under the covers. Relieved, Sherlock rolled over, and she watched as the sheets slipped down to the small of his back. She swallowed slowly, staring at his well-defined back muscles as he felt around on the floor for her clothing. Finally he handed her back her dress and bra. My panties are down there too, she said, slipping her bra on awkwardly. His expression became pained as he felt around again, finally finding the silky undergarments. He felt their softness as he handed them behind him.
Thanks, she said. He felt her motions as she slipped them on, and he tried to shut down his imagination. The bedcovers folded back, and weight left the bed as she stood up. With a sigh of relief, he opened his eyes. She was standing on his side of the bed, staring down at him. They looked at each other again, not speaking. She leaned down so her face was mere inches from him. ‚I just want to you know, Franklin< I trust you,‛ she said gently. She put her hand on his forehead, brushing hair back from his eyes. She straightened up, and he watched as she walked away slowly, opening the door and closing it quietly behind her. He lay in the bed, motionless. Her lingering scent was making his head spin. He wished he could trust himself. ***** ‚Gods below!‛ exclaimed Roland, caught between awe and excitement, echoing the thoughts of all the immortals crowded into the room. Charlotte nodded, leaning into Alex with a smile. The second stage of my theory is proven, her thoughts were delighted. She’s Ascending. A murmur went through all those gathered, including the Warders who had been listening a short distance away. How could you possibly have known?! Roland was amazed beyond speaking. We all appear to be normal humans up to the time we Ascend. Ah, Charlotte smiled, but YOU found her, Roland. Did you really think Angela’s aura harmonics machinery would find you a soul mate that was a human? Everyone, including the Warders listening in, were shocked. When we start as humans, she continued, we are undetectable. Some of us might live our entire lives as humans, eventually dying naturally of old age, only to be reborn again in the endless cycle. But in each of our cases, something rocked our existence, our very souls< The immortality within us awakened. Angela suddenly understood. The presence of other immortals! You, Alex and Sherlock were all around me when I awakened, and eventually Ascended. Charlotte smiled. Not one immortal that I know of, personally, spontaneously Ascended, except maybe the very oldest of us. We all had immortals near us when it happened. We just never understood the connection. And it appears the more immortals, the faster the process of Ascension. Toward the end of yours, Angela, you had not only Alex, myself and Franklin, but a dozen Warders too. Amazing, said Roland, his eyes on Katiya. Her color was normal now, but she was no longer emaciated. Her hair was sparkling. It had already turned a bronze color, clearly different than the straw blonde of two hours before. Sunken cheeks had filled out, her lips full and sensuous. She’s simply beautiful. But why the energy tap and ward?
Charlotte nodded. With the accelerated Ascension, the energy tap prevents her from building her immortal energies too fast before she’s ready to contain it. The wards prevent her from broadcasting her confusion and distress to anyone sensitive in the area, and to any feral Hunters that might decide she’d make a nice snack. One of the Warders spoke from the near distance. This is an amazing gift, watching the birth of an immortal. His awe was apparent. Even if she is a Hunter. Charlotte laughed. Oh, that’s stage 3 of my theory, she said happily. If I’m correct, she won’t be a Hunter at all< she’ll be a Warder. This caused shock that could probably be felt clear to China. Roland looked with fear at Charlotte, who merely hugged her husband. It’s happened before, Roland, said Alex. Trust your bond. You won’t hurt her. As for everyone else, all we can do is sit back and wait. ***** Alex chuckled, sensing another small group of immortals arriving. These ones joined others already camping in Vorontsovskiy Park five miles to the south. That made the tally approximately three hundred Warders in the south, and two hundred seventy-five Hunters camped in the north. According to the twins, the last four Arbiters were also en route. There was a major change in attitude amongst the two enemy factions of immortals. Although the distrust and blood rage between the Hunters and Warders was still there, the rumors of how the Ascension had started had spread like wildfire. Technology being used to find soul mates and sleeping immortals. The presence of other immortals being the catalyst of an awakening. This overrode even their own blood rage. To find that perfect mate one could share eternity with? Who didn’t want that? Some hotheads wanted to rush in and grab the technology. They were quickly suppressed by their outraged brothers and sisters, to the point of violence being threatened. Hounds roamed invisibly through the skies, confused at the presence of so many Warders, with no instruction from their masters to attack. For the most part, the two factions sat quietly and waited, feeling the tension growing in the air as the very Earth built up her energies, harbinger of the birth of an immortal. ***** It’s almost time, said an extremely ancient voice. Everyone bowed as the elderly woman walked into the room. She smiled at everyone present, her long grey tresses caught up in an elaborate braiding. Behind her came two
dark haired men and an amazingly beautiful brunette woman. Angela recognized their auras at once. She smiled at Sherlock, who smiled back. It’s been quite awhile since all the Arbiters have gathered, said the old woman. Hello Roland. Hello Rhea, he smiled back. It’s been too long. Rhea looked around the room, noticing everyone present. ‛Hello, young lady,‛ she said, walking up to Angela and smiling. They hugged. Welcome to our family. Angela felt a surge of resentment come from the gorgeous brunette woman. The twins grinned at each other, having expected the reaction. ‚Angela,‛ said Iris with the grin still fixed on her face, ‚these are your brothers Forseti and Guan Yu.‛ Hello, she said. Franklin understated your beauty, fair one, said the oriental man named Guan Yu. You are fairer by far than the most beautiful flower. Sherlock cleared his throat with embarrassment. Angela blushed. The other dark haired man inclined his head. ‚It was a wonderful surprise to have a new sister,‛ he said warmly. ‚Not only beautiful, but brilliant. If I were but a few years younger<‛ Angela’s face felt warmer. They were both charming men. Arce nodded toward the brunette. ‚The girl is Cytherea.‛ She smiled at the elderly lady. ‚And this is our leader, Rhea.‛ It was to Angela’s credit that the mythological names these immortals used didn’t bother her anymore. She accepted the fact that these people probably were the ones that the myths were fashioned around. She understood how Cytherea’s myth had arisen. The woman was definitely a goddess of beauty. But there was something about her that Angela didn’t care for. ‚Charmed,‛ the brunette said without emotion. Her voice, too, was beautiful, but cold. She’s intensely jealous of you, Iris whispered to Angela. She’s a resonator too, and very vain. Being in a room with you AND Roland hurts her pride. Plus she’s a bitch, Arce added with a mental frown. Angela mentally shook her head. I’m sure she has some qualities that aren’t bad, she said, trying to tone down the girls’ criticism a notch. Roland caught her attention with a sharp glance. Actually, they’re right Angela. She’s quite unpleasant. Take care while around her. Angela edged closer to Sherlock, who was talking to Alex and Charlotte. He felt her brush against him, and he smiled at her. ‚How’re you doing?‛ he asked in a low voice.
‚A little awed, and a little scared,‛ she whispered back. ‚I feel like you and I are responsible for everything that’s going on right now. And I’m hoping nothing goes horribly wrong.‛ He wrapped an arm around her and squeezed her reassuringly. ‚This was a brilliant move by Charlotte,‛ he said. ‚She’s put your invention out into the open, so all immortals know it exists. This means it’s high profile. No one can make a secret move to steal it from you now, since it’ll be under surveillance by both sides from this day forward.‛ ‚And if her theory holds<‛ she stopped. ‚What will this mean? What’s going to happen with Roland and Katiya?‛ Charlotte and Alex think that they’ll merge. But it’s still not known. If it goes badly, we could have a war. Thanks for reassuring me, she said, elbowing him. I don’t think that’ll happen though, Sherlock smiled, visualizing the Ascending girl’s aura and Roland’s. They had almost merged. She hadn’t noticed before, but now she saw Roland’s features had started to alter. His serious, manly face had become more feminine, his hair lightened already to a dark bronze. He was still unearthly beautiful. Where he had once appeared almost predatory, he now appeared serene and at peace with himself. He’s starting to look more like you and Alex, she said. Like one of Tolkien’s elves from Lord of the Rings. Sherlock chuckled, ruffling her hair. You mentioned that before, he said. I knew John Ronald Reuel Tolkien when he was young. He was an engaging young man. We talked for many long hours. He knew my nature. Angela stifled a laugh. I can’t believe you show up in yet another work of fantasy literature that I love, she said with a grimace. The hazards of being immortal, I guess. It’s time, said Roland. All immortals within ten miles focused their minds with rapt attention, not wanting to miss any details of the first predicted birth of an immortal.
CHAPTER 5 – THE DUEL The people of Moscow had shut themselves indoors that day. The wind had picked up until it was hurricane strength, howling through the deserted streets. Black clouds blotted out the sky, lightning forking across the darkness. Rain mixed with hail lashed down, making a horrible din as it bounced off metal roofs and vehicles parked in the streets.
The earth rumbled in response to the lightning. All four elements were in chaos. Humans huddled in their homes and apartments, gathered in subway terminals and offices. Work had stopped, life had stopped. It was the end of the world. Suddenly, there was an intake of breath from nature. The air strummed with the feeling of tension, as if thunderbolts were about to rain from the sky in devastation. Instead, the clouds abruptly parted. The sun shone down upon the storm wrecked city, rays of light caught in lingering rain. The people of Moscow looked at each other with disbelief, not understanding the feelings that surged through them. It was a burst of tremendous wellbeing, like everything dark and evil had been banished in the city. Silence reigned in this city of millions as they felt their hearts had been examined, and found to be accepted and loved. In the subways, strangers wept into strangers’ shoulders. Those who’d been about to commit crimes rethought their actions, and left with a clear mind. Offices were full of hugging coworkers. The husband called his wife and told her how much her loved her. The young schoolgirl who’d had a crush on the young man finally admitted her feelings for him, and he accepted her. Everywhere in the city, the feelings of love, protection and wellbeing reigned. Even the contingent of Hunters wasn’t unmoved. They stood silently together, two miles north from epicenter of this explosion of wellbeing, arms around their companions’ shoulders, contemplating the emotional storm. ***** Katiya stirred in bed, opening her sparkling silver eyes. The cloudiness of blindness had vanished from them forever. She saw the large group of people gathered around her and felt their awe. She’s very powerful, said Rhea. The girl sat up in bed, looking at the elderly lady that stood nearby. She realized the old woman hadn’t spoke, but her thoughts had been projected. The girl thought about how it was done and smiled. Where’s Roland? There was movement in a chair near the bed. She turned her head and looked at the dark clad man sitting beside her. She gasped. He was beautiful. Roland? He smiled at her. It was a mixture of longing and joy, and fear and pain. She realized she was feeling the same emotions. She wanted nothing more than to touch him, but she was repelled by him at the same time. Her frustration built as she tried to touch him with a hand, and he drew back in panic. Roland? What’s happening? He sighed. Katiya, little dove. You are my life. Your breath is my breath. My heart beats every beat for only you. He paused, and she felt a warm glow. Our bloods are incompatible. They are forcing us to be enemies, wanting us to destroy each other.
The bronze-haired girl stared at the beautiful man. Her legs came around and feet touched the cold floor. I know what my blood is telling me, Roland, she said, standing up. But it isn’t screaming for your blood. I’m terrified right now, but my blood is singing in my ears and rushing through my veins. The Hunter’s eyes widened, and he stopped trying to back away, his own tired silver eyes still locked on hers. He stood up, and they came together, hugging fiercely. All those present had to turn away, blinded by the auras of these two extraordinarily powerful immortals coming together. NO! This cannot be! a voice thundered from the northern camp. A tremendous well of dark emotions burst forth, full of loathing and anger. Such a union is a sick abomination! It cannot be tolerated. The two joined immortals backed away slowly, looking each other in the eyes. They both found something they had lacked. She had found someone who cared and wanted her as a woman. He had found someone pure and beautiful who wanted him as a man. They leaned toward each other, their eyes closing. NO! Slay her, Roland! Don’t be a fool! The room spun in vertigo as the ancient Hunter and newborn Warder parted their lips and kissed. The city trembled, once again in the throes of a storm of power. Nearly a thousand immortals staggered as they felt vertigo come from the direction of the university. Gods alive! Arce backed away with her sister, holding Iris’ hand tightly. Reality is unraveling. Wrong, said Charlotte, drawing Alex closer. They both kissed, exchanging their love again like they had the first time they’d met. Their eyes glistened as they felt the same energies pouring off the young Warder and ancient Hunter. Fools! Thundered the voice of the Hunter from the north. You have defiled the very nature of Hunters and Warders by this act. Your abomination shall be wiped from the earth. Rhea had watched the two immortals, smiling at them as they parted and looked at each other with wide, awestruck eyes. No, she said. They shall not be harmed. Rhea had spoken with authority. Every immortal within a thousand miles was amazed at the power behind her thoughts. She drew herself up and faced north. Hunter Lord, you have strove over the millennia to overtip the balance between the two clans of immortals, wanting nothing more than the total obliteration of the Warders. Does this scene not suggest anything to you? The furious mind thundered back.
It suggests that there are those who seek to supplant the tenuous balance by taking unto themselves powers which are not theirs by birth. They must be annihilated before they overwhelm us. Roland looked at Charlotte and Alex, who both nodded. You can use both Warder and Hunter abilities now, Roland. You’re no longer a true Hunter. They will not be destroyed, said Rhea, her mind firm. If you raise a hand against them, I will take it as an attempt to tip the balance, and a direct attack against my family. It will be war... and you will lose. The Hunter Lord’s mind recoiled. Now I see why you’re here, he thought. All eight Arbiters, brought together to watch and nurture this damnable unnatural union. Something which should be extinguished before it gets out of hand. Rhea smiled again. You are wrong, Hunter. There are no longer eight of us. She walked over to Roland and Katiya, and gestured to Alex and Charlotte to come near. We are now twelve. Behold! Spoke Rhea gently to the Earth, and through it, to all the immortals of the world. Behold, the newly Ascended. Behold them, brethren, and forget your strife this day. Angela’s hands came up to her mouth as she realized what had happened, and understood what had occurred. She hugged Franklin as she recognized the words being spoken, and their significance. Behold Katiya and Roland, newborn to the Arbiters. Throughout the world, Hunters and Warders dropped to their knees and bowed their heads. And I recognize Charlotte and Alex, the first two of the Hunters and Warders to become Arbiters by their shared bond. Reflect, all you Hunters and Warders. Ask yourselves if your strife and hatred has been necessary over the uncounted millennia. All the death and destruction. The next enemy you or your brother kills may have been your soul mate. Is the anger and hatred worth that? There was silence as immortals pondered her words, some in horror. Rhea, screamed the Hunter Lord, your tricks cannot change our minds. These converts are evil. You are raising an army of immortals which will eventually rule. ‚That man is irritating,‛ said Cytherea out loud, running a hand through her beautiful hair with scorn. ‚He’s always been enamored of power and tipping the balance in his favor. He’s walking a thin line.‛ He was building himself into a frenzy. I will not stand by and allow you to recruit minions for your cause, so you can usurp the power structure of the immortals! Here it comes, said Rhea to the others in the room with a sad expression on her face. I shall hunt you all down, one by one, and extinguish your filthy presence from the earth!
‚Ah, I see,‛ said Sherlock with a nod. ‚Well played, Rhea.‛ She drew herself up to her full height. She was no longer the old woman, but a figure of awesome power. Hunter Lord, your challenge has been noted! You have broken the covenant of peace on the day of an Ascension, threatening another immortal with murder and trying to incite hatred against others. Her lips pursed together. Additionally, you are guilty of tipping the balance with the creation of Hounds, originally of Guardian blood, for the purpose of planned genocide against the Warders. But most of all, her thoughts became thunderous, you have hunted members of my family over the last three thousand years. Charlotte and Alex had done nothing against either the Hunters or Warders. Unknowingly they were performing as agents of balance, to which all Arbiters are bound to by their nature. You, directly, have given orders to destroy my family, and that I cannot forgive. Your challenge has been accepted! The man raged, his power terrifying. Storms of hatred lashed through the north. I fear no one, not immortal, man nor beast. I shall meet your champion in combat and kill him, foul creature. Rhea walked to a window and looked out. She unleashed her mind, calming the tempest outside. The earth trembled once and subsided, the storm wind abating. Immortal and human alike felt the energy surging through the city. Roland, said Rhea calmly, eyes unfocused. We need Durendal. He looked at her, confused. I lost it many years ago in France, Rhea. She raised a hand in a dismissing motion. I know how you came by it, she said. There is a museum of earth history here on the campus. Go. Roland’s eyes lit up. Ah, I see. Taking Katiya’s hand, he ran with her to the door and left the room. Angela’s eyebrows rose. ‛He’s THAT Roland?!‛ she exclaimed. Charlotte laughed. ‚You seem more awed by that then the fact that the leader of the Arbiters is the Rhea, the mythological daughter of Uranus and Gaia, Sky and Earth.‛ Angela blinked, then laughed with the older woman. ‚I guess I feel differently about ancient mythology than about paladins, cavaliers and knights.‛ Roland returned a few minutes later with Katiya. The girl was excited, her bright silver eyes glowing. Under Roland’s arm was a round bundle he dumped on the bed. Without a word, he unwrapped it until everyone could see it was an uneven lump of dull rock. ‚Lovely,‛ said Cytherea with a sneer.
Roland and Katiya both stared at the lump, their hands twined together. The rock rose off the bed, enveloped in a ward. Alex and Charlotte both touched their right arms, metal bands hidden under their sleeves. Now, Katiya, said Roland. You supply the energy, and I’ll fashion it. The rock glowed, then abruptly exploded into a molten state. The ward kept the liquid metal inside. Roland’s eyes became faraway as he remembered the look and feel of his ancient sword, lost so many years ago. He fixed the image in his mind. The molten metal extended outward in the ward, to a roughly five foot length. As the ex-Hunter’s mind ran over the length of the material, fashioning it, Katiya focused on supplying him energy from a seemingly bottomless reservoir. Amazing, said Angela to Sherlock. I’m feeling and understanding what they’re doing at a molecular level. It’s the Hunter heritage in our blood that understands the manipulation of matter, he answered. Up ‘til now, none of us realized we were carrying around dual powers for a reason. It appears Hunters and Warders are merely two sides of one coin. ‚Half blood Arbiters. Amazing.‛ The metal stopped flowing. Both Roland and Katiya now focused on cooling it. Steam exploded from the object, still enveloped by the ward. Roland waved a hand, and the vapor evaporated, leaving behind the finished object. ‚Durendal, reforged,‛ said Roland. ‚Oh! It’s beautiful!‛ said Angela in awe. Roland drew the object from the ward, looking very comfortable holding its length. It was a glittering longsword, five feet in length, fashioned of star metal. Its double edge gleamed with sharpness, simple crosshilt and balled weight on the end of the hilt to counterweight for balance. The Idiot Lord has landed in the main square of the university and awaits his adversary, Cytherea commented. Each one of the immortals present snapped their eyes to Rhea. Her eyes were focused again. The rumblings of the earth and storm winds had let up. ‚Twelve of us stand in this room, each with reason to remove this blight from our world. However,‛ she frowned at all of them, ‚he IS a very ancient, dangerous opponent. I have power, but no speed. Duels are conducted one on one, with weapons. I am not suited to this task.‛ Everyone looked around the room, finally focusing on Sherlock. He gravely shook his head.
‚I’ll do it if no one else steps up, but I’m rusty,‛ he said. ‚I’d love to destroy that creature waiting out there, but I probably wouldn’t last three minutes. I haven’t taken part in a serious life-death melee combat for many years.‛ ‚I’ll do it,‛ said Roland. ‚This concerned myself and Katiya most intimately.‛ Everyone was silent, thinking about his suggestion. He, too, probably hadn’t taken part in combat for many, many years. ‚I’ll do it,‛ a woman’s voice said. Everyone looked at the speaker with surprise. Angela returned the looks solemnly. What are you thinking? said Iris and Arce at once, unable to hide their panic. You can’t risk your life! You’d get chewed up and spit out. Sherlock looked pained, but nodded slowly at her suggestion. Angela walked up to Roland and took the sword from his hand. She raised its length, feeling its balance, and shook her head. Roland, may I make alterations<? He shrugged, unsure what she was suggesting. She recalled the experience of the couple altering the meteoric metal into the sword. Concentrating, she focused on the blade, raising a ward of her own. She felt Franklin’s presence as he loaned her his energy. The blade altered its shape, losing its double edge, becoming more of a triangular cross section with a razor sharp cutting edge. She sighted along it, giving it a gentle curve from its edge to the hilt. Next, she focused on the hilt, giving it an oblong shape so it fit more naturally in a two- or single-handed grip. She ended with a square hilt guard between blade and handle. Focusing on the blade again, she gathered her and Franklin’s energy and tempered it, creating tons of pressure with the wards. The meteoric alloy groaned and shrieked, making every hair in the room stand on end as the crystalline molecular structure of the blade compacted, making the metal a thousand-fold stronger. She drained the heat away from the weapon with an energy tap and drew the blade from the ward. She smiled as she felt the balance again, nodding. ‚It is customary for a Hunter to name their self-forged star metal blade, Angela,‛ Roland said solemnly. The woman didn’t hesitate. ‚I name her Sonja,‛ said Angela, lowering the blade. Sherlock hid his smile. ‚A katana?‛ asked Roland, uncertain about her playing the warrior-woman. ‚It’s very well designed, but young lady< this is a very dangerous game you’re playing.‛ Sherlock raised his voice over the murmuring in the room. ‚I trust her,‛ he said simply. ‚It’s as it should be.‛ Angela felt a warm glow in her chest. She nodded to all those present.
‚I’m ready,‛ she said. ‚Let’s get this over with.‛ ***** Lightning still crackled in the air. The twelve Arbiters left the Faculty of Fundamental Medicines building, stepping outside into the stiff breeze. They walked silently toward the main square of the campus, feeling the presences of thousands of immortals watching this event from afar. A formal duel between immortals hadn’t been fought in centuries. Sherlock briefed her on the convention as they walked. ‚You both salute each other, then after a five heartbeat pause, you try to kill each other.‛ ‚Well, that keeps it fairly simple,‛ smiled Angela. ‚There can be no interference from outside parties until the duel is finished. This includes mental communication or succor. We, as Arbiters, are bound to uphold this balance.‛ Angela nodded. ‚No help from outside. Got it.‛ Sherlock continued his coaching. ‚It is a trial of arms. You cannot use your immortal powers against each other, which is in your favor. He is immeasurably older than you, therefore he contains tremendous energies. He is also very strong. You mustn’t ever come to a trial of strength.‛ Angela eyed him. I never match my strength against my opponents, Franklin. Don’t be worried, alright? You’re making me nervous. Honestly, though, Angela had to admit she was getting excited. There was something about competition that she reveled in, especially in martial arts. As they all walked through the campus, she became more and more jubilant, feeling the adrenaline pumping through her. It wasn’t long before they stood on the fringe of the central square of Moscow State University. Across from them, a matching group of Hunters stood, their Hounds lying on guard nearby. Angela shuddered at the sight of these creatures. These were once creatures of Guardian blood, the same as Warders? She could barely believe it. They were huge creatures, resembling wolves with long fangs and claws, and a bare tail like a rat. ‚Eeew,‛ she said. ‚Rats.‛ ‚Mean rats,‛ said Sherlock, standing beside her. Behind him, Alex was conferring with Rhea, who in turn gestured to Roland, Katiya and Charlotte. They talked quietly together, with occasional glances across the field. Across from them, the Hunter Lord emerged alone from the ranks of his supporters. He continued his walk, stopping near the center of the square. ‚Listen, Angela. I want you to come back in one piece, alright?‛ Sherlock turned her so she faced him. Once again he was dazzled by her beauty. Her golden hair drifted loose around her waist. She had changed from her white cotton dress to a track suit that had been left hanging in one of the offices in the medical building. He gestured at her hair,
and it began to braid itself, looping over and under, finally pulling all the braids up and tying themselves behind her head. He looked her clothing over, looking for loose flaps where an opponent might get a hand hold. She looked like she was prepared. ‚Thank you, Franklin,‛ she said with a smile. Bowing to the company gathered, she began her lone walk across the square, her cat-like steps graceful, Sonja held to the side. The twins came up to either side of him. Franklin, said Arce, her heart welling up in her eyes. I don’t want to lose her. We just got to know her. She’s so sweet and innocent, added Iris, her cheeks wet. And he’s such a vile reptile. You think I’m not torn by this? he asked angrily. I don’t want to lose her! SHE has to be the one to do it. But if she gets killed, I don’t know what I’m going to do. The twins smiled sadly at each other. If you believe in her, we’ll believe in her, said Iris. Arce commented, I hope she kicks his ass. ***** Angela paced toward the waiting Hunter, her wary eyes taking in his appearance. His clothes had all been tied down with cords to stop them from flapping loosely, very similar to hers. He wore no jacket, since it would only restrict movement, and wouldn’t be much protection from a sword thrust. In his right hand he held a European longsword, in his left a Roman legionnaire’s gladius, short stabbing blade. Interesting combination. He was concerned more with stabbing than edge, if she interpreted his stance and weapons correctly. Longsword meant he’d keep his opponent at a distance with slashes, until he felt confident enough to stab with it, or close and finish with the gladius. Sonja, on the other hand, was a slashing weapon. Japanese samurai blades were focused on quick slashes, even though they could deliver a stab quickly and deadly. Her blade length was 24 inches, putting her at a severe disadvantage on reach when considering the Hunter’s longsword and arm length. However, the katana was a fast blade to wield, capable of almost-instant direction changes and a vicious slash backed by a reinforced flat back on the blade. He was a capable opponent. She’d seen the dark eyes of this man sweeping over her, taking in all the details just as she had. He was dismayed to discover she was a woman and a resonator. Only now had she realized that this might give her another edge in combat, remembering how Roland had affected her when she first met him. ‚When I’m done killing you, I will slowly kill your family one by one,‛ he said in Japanese, guessing somehow that she knew the language. She declined answering his challenge. Instead, she drew herself up, and bowed formally, meeting his gaze, emotionless. He shrugged and returned the bow, scorn on his face.
The world slowed down for her. Five heartbeats crawled by, while her eyes didn’t leave her opponent’s chest, focusing on his center of mass so she could react to peripheral movement. He was good. His longsword flicked out, as she knew it would, in a quick stab to check her reaction. She judged the distance between them before the strike had been completed and knew he was out of range, just trying to get a reaction from her. She didn’t move. He followed with an extend, which she saw coming early, easily sidestepping it before it was complete. A couple slashes at her midsection and a kick to her leg were avoided. This was all basic. He was toying with her, obviously. He whirled and dropped, performing a perfect leg sweep. She was impressed by its form, but the man was just moving too slowly to make it successful. She hopped over his leg as it swept under where she’d been standing a fraction of a second before. What was he trying to prove? Bitch, he screamed into her mind, pressing the attack on her. Again, she was dumbfounded at this man’s poor reactions. He was an excellent fighter, but his speed left his style lacking. She dodged another quick stab-stab-kick-slash combo, and finally countered with an attack of her own. As she passed his whirling blades, she turned and delivered a roundhouse kick to the small of his back. She was surprised she connected, lifting the heavier Hunter off his feet and spilling him forward onto the cobblestones of the courtyard. She stood immobile as he scrambled for his weapons and faced her, a feral growl on his lips. Bitch, he repeated. I’ll soil you with your own blood, you abomination. You freak. Angela gasped. You need to be soiled, freak. The last words of Wilson Pettisbridge, before she had killed him. The man who had abducted her and raped her, making her lose her trust of all men. She staggered back. The Hunter Lord, sensing an opening, raced in and stabbed hard with his longer blade. To his surprise, he tagged her upper left arm. With a tearing sound, his star metal blade cut the material of her track suit, parting her skin and the muscle underneath. She screamed in pain, quickly backpedaling to get more room from his two weapons. Ah, the bitch bleeds. She looked down at her track suit and saw the rip, the blood flowing out. It looked like normal human blood. She had almost forgotten that she could be hurt now. She dodged his attacks. He was still moving slower than her, but her dead hanging arm restricted her movements, and she had to protect it from further attacks. She whirled away, catching the looks of concern from the eleven Arbiters standing on her side of the
field. In particular, she saw a look of pained agony on Franklin’s face as he watched her fighting, her arm dangling at her side. She parried another stab and connected with a kick, allowing her to back away and quickly inspect her wound. Although the wound was deep, arteries had been avoided. The blood flow wasn’t bad, merely a trickle. With a sigh of relief she dismissed her wound as superficial. Now she was able to fully focus on the fight. When she got a chance again, she faced Sherlock and smiled encouragingly. He gave her a sickly smile in return. The Hunter had increased his speed, his success making him redouble his effort. Angela stuck to moves that allowed her to strike or dodge with her restricted movement. Luckily the katana was a light blade that could be effectively wielded single-handed. Suddenly, an opening came. Without thinking, she delivered a front kick that connected with his left hand with a sickening snap of bones. His gladius went flying across the cobblestones. You bitch! he thought, swinging his longsword wildly. She had to back away from his undisciplined strokes, not sure where the next would come from. You seem to like that word, she said dancing away from him with a feral glow in her eyes. I must remind you of your mother. He stopped his swinging, realizing he had lost control in his anger. He readjusted his stance to the classic fencer position, blade held forward and slightly raised, body slightly off center, front knee bent. His wounded hand was behind him, protected. She faced him, seeing her family standing behind him, most with hopeful looks on their faces. She paused on Franklin’s face, then slipped to the twins who were standing next to them. Iris gave her a peace sign, which made her smile. Arce, however, was urgently signing her with a clenched fist, quickly jabbed. Angela’s brows furrowed, and she barely dodged the quick probe of the Hunter’s sword tip. Round and round they went, the woman trying to adjust her style to the classic fencing she was facing. Kendo was all about quick, abrupt movements. The Hunter’s sword was making her keep her distance, playing to his advantage of reach. He was also preventing another disarming blow like the kick she’d landed. And, eventually, as she knew it would, she could feel her stamina start to wear out. The katana was comparatively light to his longsword, but swinging around even five pounds of metal eventually wore one down. Plus the blood loss from the arm didn’t help. Once again, she circled, and saw Arce doing the abrupt fist gesture. What is she doing? the woman wondered. Suddenly, it dawned on her what Arce was trying to say. The same thing she’d told her the first night in Puerto Vallarta, when she had told Angela what she’d become. <your Arbiter agility is at least ten times faster than the most talented gymnast and you can punch holes in solid steel without breaking a nail. The Hunter Lord wasn’t slow. She was just fast. Very fast.
She didn’t hesitate to test her theory, watching his reaction time. She tapped his blade out of the way with Sonja and faked a side kick at his ribs. His eyes widened, and he backed slowly away. Too slowly, in fact. She decided to complete the kick, driving the flat of her foot into his solar plexis. Her quadriceps unleashed like coiled steel springs, putting the full force of her musculature behind the kick. The man was lifted off his feet, his longsword sent flying and breath forced out. He landed close to the Arbiters who were watching with amazement. Faster than she’d thought possible, she dropped Sonja and raced to where he was laying stunned, going down on one knee and delivering a closed fist to the bridge of his nose meant to blind and cause him tremendous pain; almost exactly the same move she’d used on Wilson Pettisbridge when she fought for her freedom. The same blow could be used to shatter a concrete slab in a karate demonstration. She applied all her strength behind it, and delivered a flawless blow her sensei would have been proud of. Her fist caved his face in. She followed through with the punch, realizing she had gone right through his skull and into the cobblestones beneath him. Withdrawing her gorecovered hand, she looked at it with amazement. Not a nail broken. There was a hush in the air as she stood, her head slightly raised, eyes on the heavens. Then thousands of immortals cheered thunderously, both Hunter and Warder. A smile come to her face as tears of relief trickled down her cheeks. She felt no remorse, no anguish at taking a life. This life. She thought about it, and it made sense. It was the right thing to do, as it had been when she had ended the life of the mass murderer Wilson Pettisbridge. The balance must be maintained, and she was now an agent of that balance. Her guilt and remorse were finally gone.
CHAPTER 6 – A DOUBLE EDGED SWORD It never hurts to demonstrate to the rest of the immortals how capable we are in a fight, commented Guan Yu with a smile as he downed his tea. Especially when our champion has only been an Arbiter for three weeks. Forseti roared with laughter, turning heads in the campus cafeteria. It wasn’t lunch hour yet, but most of the tables were packed. Many eyes were on Roland, Cytherea and Angela. ‚Aye, there is that. And I think our young Arbiter has become quite an idol amongst both sides now.‛ Angela blushed, rubbing her shoulder that was still twinging with pain, even after Alex’s administrations. ‚Guys<‛ she whined.
‚Nothing to be shy about,‛ said Roland with a gentle smile. ‚You single handedly defeated the Hunter Lord in a duel, you invented technology that can find them their soul mates, and you’re a resonator. You have immortals of both clans and genders idolizing you.‛ I like you very much, said Katiya, who was sitting close to Roland. You are a gentle person, despite your facility with combat. There is a glow about you that makes me happy. This comment from the newest member of the Arbiters made Angela’s eyes tear up involuntarily. Thank you, Katiya. That means a lot. The twins hugged her from both sides. ‚You were AWESOME!‛ they screeched together. You have to teach me, said Arce. That was so amazing! Angela smiled. ‚I got to the level I’m at with only twenty years of training. You have all of the rest of time to make me look like I’m an uncoordinated child.‛ Cytherea was staring at her across the table. Finally, she sent a private message. Listen, I’m not completely fond of you, but you did represent us well today. I appreciate that. Thank you, Cytherea. I know there’s a strain between us, but I’d like to do what I can to be friends with you. The gorgeous brunette raised an eyebrow. Really? Then tell Franklin you’re not interested in him. Angela’s face paled. What? I’m sorry, was that too complex a request? the older immortal commented. I thought you were a genius. A male voice came to her defense. Obviously Roland’s change to an Arbiter hadn’t affected his abilities at listening in on conversations. Cytherea, you can’t control who likes who. You should know that by now. Give up on him. She sniffed. He irritates me. For a millennium he resisted my advances. He never showed any interest in me, or any other woman for that matter. I assumed he was homosexual for the longest time. But he never got involved with anyone. It was like a personal religion of his, and he was a priest with a vow of chastity. Angela started. Really? She pondered this, while the noise of the cafeteria surrounded her. She felt herself get warm again, lost in her thoughts of the Arthurian romances. She looked over to where he was sitting, near Alex. She smiled at him, and he returned the smile, tired relief in his eyes for her. She felt her blood pounding in her ears. She sighed.
I see ourselves sitting around this table, a family of immortals brought together to preserve the balance and protect it, and I realize we’re very much like the Knights of the Round table had been. And then I think, that man there hasn’t changed at all from the time he had sat at the original table. He is still as good, fair and pure as he was. He is still the knight-errant, wandering the land, acting as its guardian. He is still seeking his holy grail, and may never find it. And I realize how much that thought pains me, and makes me want to cry. Cytherea stood. All eyes watched as she coolly walked over to Angela and stared at her, her face emotionless. Finally she bent down. ‚Tell him,‛ Cytherea whispered so only she could hear. She straightened up and walked out the door of the cafeteria, the young students all watching her leave with glazed expressions. Angela was dismayed, her face heating up. ***** She waved as Roland and Katiya took flight and vanished to the northwest, leaving for St. Petersburg, then back to Roland’s home in New York. Sadly, she turned back to the stairs that led down to the studio apartment that everyone had shared for a week. She heard the twins up and about, making a late breakfast. Sherlock had gone out early, saying he’d be back in the afternoon. She settled down on the sofa, looking out the large picture window at the buildings of the city. ‚Gods, if I have another shot of vodka ever again, I’ll die,‛ groaned Iris, her hair like a bird’s nest. Arce frowned, her face turning slightly green. She didn’t say a word. ‚Had a good night?‛ Angela asked, her gaze still on the scenery. ‚Romance, intrigue, debauchery, copious amounts of alcohol, mind altering substances, and wild animals,‛ said Iris, rubbing an eye and yawning. ‚Pretty routine.‛ Arce snorted. ‚The giraffe wasn’t routine.‛ Iris turned on her. ‚Yeah, really! What was up with that?‛ Angela raised an eyebrow, looking at the twins. ‚Do I really want to know?‛ Arce shrugged. ‚I come out of the bathroom and, WHAM, face to face with a giraffe in the hallway. Apparently someone snuck it in past building security and got it into the party.‛ ‚Not bad, since I didn’t think there were any giraffes in Russia for a thousand miles in any direction,‛ Iris said with a smirk. The twins both nodded, acknowledging a master prankster. Angela faintly smiled, then faced out the window again.
‚Why so glum?‛ Iris said, her tongue sticking out as she concentrated on flipping an omelet without destroying it. The reclining woman leaned her head on her hand. ‚I find myself in a unique position now, for the first time in my life,‛ she answered. ‚I find myself without a job, presumed dead by the organization I used to work for. My previous identity is pointless to me now. I am immortal, able to do whatever I want for the rest of time, or until I get struck down by a meteor or another immortal. ‚Physics and brainstorming used to be my life, along with martial arts. This was back when time was ticking, and every minute of every day was precious to me. But now I don’t need to rush anymore. I don’t have to make a name for myself so I’ll live on in scientific texts. I can take my time researching whatever I like, whenever and wherever I want. I can explore places I’ve never been, and live in places I’ve always wanted to. I need never fear being hurt or sick again, unless I want to be.‛ She smiled at the twins, who looked like they’d both suffered when they’d awakened. ‚In a way, it’s like I’m just stepping off a train, and spread out before me is a whole new magical life, just waiting to be experienced. I want to see and do so much.‛ She frowned. ‚But at the same time, I can already see how eventually I could become bored with such a life. Maybe you two can answer this< when you reach your age, is there anything that is ever new anymore?‛ The twins became serious. For the first time, she saw signs of their true age in their faces. They sat down at the dining table facing her. ‚The years are like snowflakes, Angela,‛ said Iris, cutting up her omelet daintily. ‚At first glance, the flakes all appear to be the same, especially when they start piling up. But if you pay close attention, you realize that each one is a little different.‛ She forked in a piece, Arce listening attentively. ‚Each is a miracle in itself. There will never be another one exactly like it, and once it’s gone, it will never return.‛ ‚When Iris and I were just passing our first 100th year, the ennui set in. We felt things were the same everywhere. Same stuff, different pile. Our problem was we were generalizing, only seeing surface detail. It took us another 250 years to discover something that turned our lives around and made them worth living again.‛ Angela was intrigued. ‚What was it?‛ ‚Each culture was unique. They all had different ways of partying.‛ Angela groaned, sitting back in the sofa, knowing she should have expected that. ‚Seriously,‛ said Iris, nodding. ‚It was while we were socializing with these early civilizations that we became aware of just how interesting and diverse humanity was. Some were hard partiers, others were solemn. Some had rites celebrating different things, others were just freeform anarchists.‛ ‚Very inspiring stuff,‛ Arce frowned, opening a bottle of beer by popping the lid off with her thumb. She took a swig, chasing her omelet with it.
‚We’ll let you in on a little secret,‛ said Iris, eyeing Arce. Her sister nodded, and Iris beamed. ‚The meaning of life. For real.‛ Angela looked profoundly doubtful at the two. Arce nodded solemnly. ‚All you need is love,‛ said Iris. The girl on the couch mentally shifted gears. ‚Love is all you need,‛ she returned in a sing-song voice. ‚Exactly,‛ said Arce. ‚Glad you got it.‛ ‚Wow. The Beatles were immortals,‛ Angela frowned, looking back out the window. ‚They’re not completely right, but they’re close,‛ a soft European accent said. Charlotte wandered in from the master bedroom. Apparently Alex was still sleeping. ‚Good morning everyone.‛ The twins nodded, getting back to eating. Charlotte searched through the fridge and gathered some food. ‚Love makes the eons more bearable,‛ she said, pouring some orange juice into two glasses. ‚When I’d lost Alex back in Pompeii, it was love that gave me motivation to continue. Reason to carry on. The thought that I would one day have him back in my arms. It was a powerful thing, and it almost crushed me many times over those two millennia.‛ She smiled. ‚But when he finally awoke and surprised me, kissing me for the first time in all those long years<‛ A finger came up to touch her lips. ‚It was powerful. More powerful than the first time we’d kissed.‛ She picked up the tray of food she’d prepared, walking back to the master bedroom. ‚Eternity is a gift, Angela, when we are blessed with things like love and passion in our long lives. When you find it, every morning you awake is a new and wonderful thing. It flavors our lives, enriches them.‛ She vanished into the bedroom, the door shutting behind her and locking itself. ‚I don’t know if I want to open that can of worms,‛ Angela said, tossing her hair over the back of the couch. ‚Never dated?‛ said Arce, leaning back in her chair and stretching, her breakfast finished. ‚Why bother? All the boys were too slow to follow my conversations, and I’d end up putting them to sleep. Besides the fact that I was never attractive in the first place.‛ ‚Hah. I doubt that,‛ said Arce, forking in some egg. She reached into her purse and pulled out her security ID card from the research facility. ‚See what I mean?‛ Iris got up and took it from her hand. She looked at it before she started chuckling. ‚Oh my.‛ She handed the card back to Arce, who had a mouthful of beer when she looked at it. The beer ended up all over Iris. ‚Sherlock said you were beautiful,‛ she said, tossing the card back.
‚No,‛ Angela said. ‚I was very self-conscious about how I looked. I think I probably overcompensated by working harder and practicing my martial arts. I didn’t become normal looking until I was Ascended.‛ Arce looked at Iris, her expression puzzled. ‚No, I distinctly remember Sherlock telling us that you were always beautiful, and that your looks were only catching up once you’d Ascended.‛ ‚Really?‛ she said. ‚He said that?‛ ‚Honest,‛ said Iris, cleaning the dishes from the table. ‚Arce, you want to check out that place on Ozerkovskaya naberezhnaya? I could use a body massage right now.‛ ‚Oh, nice idea,‛ said Arce with a nod. ‚The Spa VIP Center? Let me get some clothes on. Five minutes.‛ She trotted off to their shared bedroom, tossing off her pajamas on the way. ‚Want to come?‛ Iris asked. ‚You can’t beat a full body massage to remove tension and let your chakras flow free.‛ ‚Uh, no thanks,‛ said Angela, her thoughts elsewhere. ‚Kay,‛ said Iris, walking to the bedroom. A couple minutes later the twins emerged fully clothed with thick jackets, waved goodbye, and left the apartment. Angela found herself alone in the apartment, staring out at the city. He thought I was beautiful? She shook her head. The twins were always playing mind games. They were obviously trying to set her up with Franklin. It was nice of them to try, but she didn’t know if she was ready for something like that. Besides, Franklin was obviously not into anyone romantically. She thought back to when she saw him in the pool swimming, and she felt herself start to breath rapidly again. She doubted she had really felt that jolt of pleasure back then, that had weakened her knees and made her collapse. She was tired, had flown across the Atlantic to Russia all in one day, plus staying up hours with Katiya and Roland in Moscow. Her mind had been playing games with her, probably. Lady Angela? a timid feminine mind reached out to her. She didn’t recognize the person. Yes? she answered. She had a feeling she knew what was coming. I mean no offense if it’s bad timing, but would you mind if I dropped by and talked to you for awhile? Angela paused. This apartment is neutral ground. The condition of visiting is you must control your aggression if something should provoke it. Understood? I understand, came the response. Then you are welcome. *****
She was beautiful, like all immortals seemed to be. She looked to be around her midforties, older than most immortal’s bodies. She wore a hooded garment that fitted close around her face. Her skin was dark brown, almost black. She was a Hunter. My name is Fadhili, she began. I apologize I can’t talk to you, but I only speak Bantu Swahili, with a touch of English. I understand, said Angela. I only know a few words of Swahili. The robed woman nodded nervously. I’m guessing you’d like to find your soulmate, if he’s out there, Angela said, deciding to mercifully get to the point. This poor woman looked like she was about to have a panic attack. The woman started breathing normally again. Thank you, yes, she said. I’m uncertain on your terms, however. Angela frowned. What do you mean? How much will you charge for the service? Angela’s face went white. Charge?! For finding your true love? That would be immoral! The woman cringed, backing away. I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Lady Angela! Forgive me! Angela calmed down, forcing herself to breath slowly. No, I’m sorry. You couldn’t have known. She forced a smile. Your mate is not mine to sell to you. He is yours, and yours alone. We will merely find him for you. The rest is up to you. She walked over to the desk set up in the corner of the studio apartment and picked up the handheld aura unit. This will only take a couple of minutes. Ten minutes later the woman left, so excited she could barely contain herself. Angela had printed off a map of Central America, circling Panama City. Once you get close, you may run into Warders. Make sure you broadcast to the city you’re on a mission of peace, and you are under the protection of the Arbiters. Behave yourself. Whomever initiates conflict, their heads will roll. The woman gulped. Thank you, Lady Angela. I owe you my happiness. You owe me nothing. Share your happiness with your true love. The presence of the woman was already a hundred miles away before Angela turned away from the full length windows, staring at the handheld unit. It was that easy, wasn’t it? Finding someone you could love as much as Charlotte did Alex, or Katiya with Roland. She swallowed, her heart in her throat.
Did she dare? Her hand touched the unit, wondering if she was brave enough to try. What if the result was negative? Could she take the devastation if she found there was no perfect match for her? She was a scientist. She could take the truth. An image of a golden-haired man swimming through water came into her head. She wanted so much to verify her feelings, having the universe tell her she’d found her one. But she was terrified of what it might reveal instead. She sat on the side of the desk, looking at the handheld. Wouldn’t it be better to know, either way? At least she could get on with her life, and not have to deal with this uncertainty anymore. She picked up the unit and walked to the center of the room. She hesitated a moment, then ran the scanner up and down herself, her hand shaking. The unit beeped, and she walked over to the laptop and plugged it in. She waited for a power surge or some other act of the universe to stop the program from completing its search. To her surprise, it finished. Swallowing, she activated the display function. It was amazing seeing all the compatibility results at 96%. The model of the globe was pinpricked with little lights, like a view of a starry sky. She smiled. It was a good start. When she increased the match percentage to 97%, however, there was a drastic drop, noticeably smaller than Roland’s 97%. 98% left about twenty. 99% left only one, and her heart caught in her throat. She let a breath out and sighed, fearing as much. It was targeted directly on her location. Her heart sank. She took it up to 100%, and the resulting light remained on her location. The only one 100% compatible to her< was herself. She had no soulmate. She had hoped< but no. She couldn’t let anyone know what she’d done, especially Iris or Arce, or they’d be consoling her and making her feel ten times worse. Her eyes unfocused, she closed the laptop computer. She walked through the apartment to the bathroom and shut the door. She made it to the sink before she broke down and started to cry, her heart breaking.
CHAPTER 7 – CONSEQUENCES Sherlock stood on the roof of the apartment next to the satellite uplink dish he’d installed a couple weeks ago. He stared out across the rooftops of the city. Everyone had gone their separate ways now, except Alex and Charlotte, the twins, and himself and Angela. Angela.
He sat down on a vent hood, his mind going in circles. What could he possibly feel for this woman? He cursed Tennyson again. Always, that damnable man’s words came back to taunt him. The problem was, he knew Tennyson was right, even though he was mistaken on the ultimate cause of Galahad’s ‘purity’. The fool had read him like a book, and put it down in poetry so the whole world would know him. How sweet are looks that ladies bend On whom their favours fall! For them I battle till the end, To save from shame and thrall: But all my heart is drawn above, My knees are bow'd in crypt and shrine: I never felt the kiss of love, Nor maiden's hand in mine. More bounteous aspects on me beam, Me mightier transports move and thrill; So keep I fair thro' faith and prayer A virgin heart in work and will.
That was the reason he’d never acknowledged his first incarnation, and had changed his name to Franklin from what it had been. It trivialized his life, making him look like a wishy-washy superhero. He was sure Superman had been modeled off the Galahad stereotype. He remembered her, as he and she had flown over the Pacific and he heralded her to the world, the feeling of love he’d felt for her as she was near. She’d flirted with him. But after the first flush of emotion had worn off, he’d separated himself from her and sent her south to the twins. He was frightened of her, and his reaction to her. Was he afraid his Superman image would be tarnished? He frowned. Of course not. Was he prepared to break an oath he’d made a thousand years ago? Even now, though, it felt incredibly powerful and personal to him. It was his life, his only reason for being. He breathed in the cool air and stood. It was time to leave Moscow and get some space between himself and her. His life had been going fine up to the point he’d met her. There was no reason it couldn’t continue being fine after they parted. He felt an ache in his chest. Time for one last shopping trip to stock the fridge for those staying, then he’d head south, maybe to China. But not before he said goodbye to everyone. He hopped off the roof. Directly below him, Angela had turned off her computer and was heading to the bathroom, holding in her tears. *****
It took him two more hours to return, laden down with grocery bags. He opened the door with a push of his mind and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He still hadn’t decided what to tell everyone before he left. He was surprised to see the twins and Alex and Charlotte sitting in the living room talking together, their expressions grim. He glanced around, but Angela didn’t seem to be there. Sighing, he went into the kitchen and stowed the food away. Conversation had stopped. He wasn’t surprised when everyone’s eyes were on him when he returned. ‚Hey,‛ he said with a wave, sitting down on the couch beside the twins. ‚What’s up?‛ ‚Angela’s gone,‛ said Iris, tears in her eyes. ‚What?!‛ said Sherlock, sitting up straight. ‚Where’d she go? Did she say anything?‛ ‚I felt her slip out about an hour and a half ago,‛ said Alex. He sighed. ‚She’d been crying.‛ ‚Crying?‛ Sherlock repeated, his eyes widening. ‚Apparently she’d had one of her ‘clients’,‛ Charlotte said. ‚And a bit after the client left, she started to become very depressed.‛ ‚She took Sonja with her,‛ added Arce. ‚Which means, I think, she’s not coming back.‛ Sherlock was silent, staring out the window. ‚What can this mean?‛ asked Iris, sniffing. Everyone was looking at Sherlock again. He could feel the pressure of their eyes on him. He gritted his teeth. ‚What?!‛ he said angrily. ‚What am I supposed to do about it? She’s a grown woman!‛ There was silence again, heavy. He stared out the window again. ‚I had the feeling she discovered something she didn’t want to,‛ said Alex calmly. ‚After her guest had left, her mind was in turmoil. Then it become focused, and after a couple minutes, she became very depressed.‛ Sherlock breathed out, his head hanging. ‚She scanned her aura and did a global search for a soul mate,‛ he concluded. ‚And she didn’t have one.‛ For some reason, he felt like something had died inside him. Iris hugged Arce, burying her head in her shoulder. ‚Poor Angela,‛ said Arce. ‚After all the talks we had above love being the only reason to go on. And seeing the people around her in love. It must have been a terrible shock to her to find she didn’t have a soul mate.‛ Charlotte stood up, walking over to the laptop which was closed on the table. ‚Franklin, how do we operate the software?‛ ‚Why do you want to know?‛
‚I want to know if we can locate her by her aura,‛ she snapped. ‚I’m surprised you didn’t suggest it first.‛ He closed his eyes. She opened the computer, and the screen lighted up. ‚Hm. She didn’t clear her search results.‛ Immediately the other three immortals crowded around the computer, staring at the screen. Sherlock didn’t move from the couch. ‚Still showing the results from 10:05 am local,‛ she said, glancing at the clock. ‚Ah, I see. It’s only showing a single result at her location. Poor girl.‛ Sherlock’s head came up slowly, his eyes opening. ‚What?‛ ‚Yeah. Her multiple hits ended at 98%. It came down to one 1 hit at 99 and 100%, at her exact location.‛ ‚Impossible,‛ said Sherlock, closing his eyes again. ‚The search software filters out the user’s aura. All that’s left are the auras of others.‛ Charlotte shrugged. ‚Hm. Must be a glitch in your software then. Now, let’s see if we can find her with it.‛ ‚WAIT!‛ said Sherlock, scrambling off the sofa, his voice hoarse. ‚What time was that?‛
CHAPTER 8 – AN IMMORTAL IN JAPAN Flying took her mind off her hopelessness. She had flown directly against the sun, its rays in her eyes until its fiery orb passed above and behind. It was a glorious spring day. In the early afternoon she flew over what she’d assumed was Mongolia. It was a beautiful country of mountains, steppe and grasslands. She drank in the landscape, heading slightly south on a whim. A few minutes later she saw what she’d hoped for< a great stone edifice of immense proportions stretching to her right and left as far as she could see, winding up and down hillsides. The Great Wall of China. She smiled, following it eastward toward the coast of China. What an amazing work of man, this huge structure. They said it was so big that it was one of the few man-made structures you could see from space. She could believe it. When she came to the coast, she continued across the Sea of Japan heading due east again. By late afternoon, her goal stretched beneath her, the city lights already twinkling. She descended in a stand of bamboo at a small Shinto shrine. Taking Sonja off her back, she unwrapped it from its cloth wrappings and set it on the ground. Focusing on the living bamboo surrounding her, she shaped a saya - a scabbard - around her blade. She
stole resins and oils from the environment, integrating them into the surface of the saya to make it shine and to weatherproof it. One of the long red ribbons decorating the temple was separated into its basic fibers and reformed into a silk sash she strung around the scabbard and over her shoulder. All in all, not bad. She smiled, stepping out of the stand of bamboo and into the public. There was something wonderful about Japan. Yes, it was crowded and expensive to live in. Sometimes you felt like you were just another ant in the hill, being pushed around every which way without a care from anyone. But it was a magical place too. It was a culture that was caught between 21st century modernism, and deep-rooted mysticism. Where else in the world could one walk down the streets and see so many different religious beliefs walking side by side without clashing? Where you could stumble on a small Buddhist shrine next to an American burger joint, beside a home with tiny stone spirit houses in the rock garden. Angela walked through the crowded streets, her eyes darting everywhere, smiling at all the new and wonderful things. Finally the crowds thinned, and she found herself in a more eclectic part of town. The people were walking around the streets, some of them with shocking hair color and elaborate costumes. She was curious, wondering if some sort of a festival was going on. ‚Shinji! Look at her!‛ said a young voice in Japanese nearby. She looked toward the shop and saw two teenaged boys staring at her from a coffee stand. ‚Sugoi! Awesome!‛ ‚She must be Akane from the Last Samurai Woman of Kenjari,‛ said the first, excited. ‚I’m going to get her autograph. What’s this? There was a mental laugh from nearby. They think you’re cosplaying: Dressing up to imitate a favorite character from an animated series. Angela felt with her mind and sensed the newcomer. She turned her head, and saw a smiling young-appearing Japanese man standing on her left. Well, you have to admit, a fantastically beautiful woman wearing a white cotton Mexican dress, long fur-trimmed Russian boots and a Japanese katana strapped behind her back may seem unusual in some cases. The fellow’s smile widened. I’m Hachi of the Warders. ‚Hello miss?‛ the first teenaged boy said nervously, standing in front of her. He bowed, a pad of paper and a pen in his hands. ‚May I have the honor of your signature?‛ Angela looked at Hachi, who shrugged and nodded. ‛I would be honored,‛ she said, smiling at him. The teenager stared at her unabashedly, drinking in her beauty. She took the pad and pen with both her hands, signifying it was an honor to her.
‚Would you prefer it in English or Japanese?‛ she asked. ‚Both?‛ asked the youth. Angela thought a moment and smiled. She scribbled in kanji, the ornate Chinese-type character styles. To the left, she wrote again in the more modern Japanese katakana, then in English underneath. The youth received back the pad and read it. ‚Angela, Immortal Sword Maid of the Balance.‛ ‚Awesome,‛ said his friend again from behind him. She bowed. ‚I thought that was you,‛ commented Hachi in Japanese. His smiled hadn’t left his face. He bowed very low with respect. ‚I am truly honored to make your acquaintance, Angela-sama of the Arbiters.‛ She bowed again. The teenagers scurried back to their coffee stand. By now, Angela had started to draw a crowd. For some reason, she felt delighted by the attention being on her. She ended up signing many autographs and posing for hundreds of photos. This is kind of fun, she said to Hachi, who’d stayed nearby the entire time. I don’t remember ever having this much fun. He laughed at her, sipping on a can of green tea. ‚Is your sword real?‛ asked a Japanese girl with shocking pink hair in her mid-twenties. Angela slipped the weapon off her back, giving it to the girl. ‚Her name is Sonja, and she’s real.‛ The girl asked permission to draw the sword, and Angela nodded. There was hushed silence as the girl grasped the ribbon on the saya in one hand, the hilt in the other, and drew them apart. A sigh swept through the crowd as the semi-transparent crystalline metal blade was revealed. Angela blushed slightly at the people admiring her craftwork. ‚It’s beautiful, Angela-sama,‛ said the girl. ‚I’m almost too nervous to hold it, in case I drop it and break it.‛ Angela stood from her stool, holding a hand out for the blade. The girl gave it up willingly, and the Arbiter stood there with her unsheathed weapon in hand. The crowd gave her space, cameras taking photos. ‚Sonja is a special blade, forged by the will of my mind. She is stronger than diamond, with a razor edge. You couldn’t break her, Momiji-chan.‛ The girl gasped. She’d never mentioned her name. Angela stood with the weapon to her side, not sure if she should be enjoying the awe from her fans. ‚Can you do a demonstration?‛ asked a male photographer.
Angela retrieved her saya and tied it around her waist with the sash. With a quick motion she sheathed Sonja. ‚At your convenience,‛ she said. ‚Throw something small.‛ A few objects were tossed at her from different directions. Narrowing her eyes, she drew Sonja and resheathed it in what seemed like one fluid motion. A tab from a can of soda flew past her, hitting the ground in two pieces. A rock was bisected, as well as a plastic ball and a cap from a bottle of water. The crowd gasped, then cheered, chanting her name. The flash from cameras was blinding. Perhaps now would be a good time to depart, said Hachi. I can tell you’re enjoying it, but if you make too big an impact, it could become national. You are young now, but if you stay popular, years from now people will start to notice you’re not aging. It could become problematic. Reluctantly, Angela had to agree. It was nice being wanted and loved by strangers, and she knew it could get addictive. I’ll go. But I’d like to add a little magic to their night, she said. I come from a dull, grey world of science and fact myself, and I understand how they’re feeling. She drew herself up, raising her hand for their attention. Silence dropped like a stone. ‚I am saddened, but I must leave you now. The gateway between the mortal and immortal realms is closing, and I must enter or be stranded in your world.‛ She tossed her head, her glorious golden hair sparkling as it floated in waves. ‚Take care, people of Japan, and know that if the Balance is ever threatened, I shall return to you.‛ She bowed, then slowly raised her ward. Rising off the ground, she let the ward shimmer over her, and she vanished from sight. The crowd of people watched breathlessly, awe on their faces. A few fainted. Hachi was appalled. What have you done? She nodded to him. He could see through her wards as she could his. She rolled over in flight, turning eastward into the night. I’ve reawakened true magic in their lives, Hachi-san. They will reaccount to each other and their children the night the mysterious woman appeared and vanished. Their minds will open to the mystic, even the previous non-believers. She sighed. I remember how I felt when I was told faeries existed. Is it wrong letting those people believe that something mystical and wonderful is out there, and they can see and touch it? The Warder thought about it. You’re a fascinating woman, Angela of the Arbiters. May you continue to protect the balance. Thank you, Hachiman-sama, Guardian of Japan.
CHAPTER 9 – MEETINGS
‚I don’t know what to do,‛ said Sherlock, sitting on the roof of the apartment building. His companion sat beside him, sipping on a cup of hot tea. ‚I can’t lie and say I’m unaffected by her, but it’s not how I’ve chosen to live my life.‛ Charlotte pulled up a leg to her chest. ‚Franklin, back when we first met, you were seeing me about ten years after I’d left my tomb in Pompeii.‛ She shuddered. ‚Old Friend was my husband’s best friend. When he learned I’d survived the destruction of Pompeii and of the sacrifice Alex made to protect me, he took me in and brought me through my loss like a father. I don’t think I’d have survived without him.‛ Sherlock stayed silent. ‚He stayed with me, promising he’d do everything in his power to find my lost husband again, and reawaken him from mortality. In return, I stayed near him, helping him accomplish his goals if they seemed proper to me. ‚It was his project to reunite the fragmented kingdoms of Britain. He knew it was a bloody plan, rife with death and destruction, and he mourned for the casualties every day. But I supported him, taking on the bloodier tasks. I didn’t realize it, but it was probably my role as an Arbiter that was seeking stabilization and balance in Britain.‛ Her eyes lit up. ‚One of his ideas was the establishment of the Round Table in Arthur’s court. Once peace had been established, we needed a guiding light that peasant and noble alike could look to. It would embody chivalry and nobility, justice and charity. It was the beacon of hope in dark days of famine and poverty. It needed a keystone, someone that could embody the perfect knight and personify all the attributes of the Round Table. We had waited for that knight all through the wars and border skirmishes. And on the eve of peace, he finally arrived.‛ Sherlock remained silent. This was the first time he’d heard the full story. ‚When you rode into town, Old Friend knew it immediately and dragged me into the castle yard. And I have to admit, when you sat there on your horse in your golden armor and crimson cloak, not one person could look at you and question Old Friend’s judgment. You were simply< right.‛ She sighed. ‚Franklin, it’s time to give up your oath.‛ He looked at her sadly. ‚How can I? It’s my destiny.‛ She shrugged. ‚Listen, I know what it cost you when you let Angela volunteer to fight the Hunter Lord.‛ She looked at him sharply, forestalling his protest. ‚You and I both know you could have killed him within three seconds. And I know why you let her do it< so no one would dare attack her in the future. A VERY public fight against the most dangerous non-Arbiter in the world.‛
His shoulders drooped. ‚God curse me for putting her in peril like that.‛ She smacked him across his face, stunning him into silence. ‚Snap out of it! It WAS the right thing to do,‛ she growled. ‚It was smart, and well thought out. And Alex said that he felt serenity from her after she won, like she’d awakened from a nightmare and found peace.‛ He smiled weakly. ‚I’m glad. But I still feel like crap.‛ ‚Why? Because you put her in peril, or because you might have lost her forever?‛ He stayed silent, not daring to voice his thoughts. She sipped her tea again. ‚She’s confused right now,‛ she said. ‚Back when we all first met in the diner near the Rockies, Alex told me you two seemed to be falling for each other. Knowing you, I couldn’t believe it. After all, you’ve been the most eligible bachelor for almost a millennium, and I know of your oath. But then I started noticing things: The way your eyes met, the casual touching of fingers against each other, or hands brushing against each other’s bodies. Subtle, very natural. You probably didn’t even notice yourself.‛ Sherlock’s eyebrows rose. ‚When she was scared, she came to you for comfort. When she did, you received her without shying away. When you felt she was distressed, you were immediately there for her. And when she was threatened, you responded without thinking.‛ Charlotte stood. ‚But you’ve been giving her mixed signals, Franklin, which has affected her own perception of what she feels for you. As a woman, I can be fairly certain that she wants you to smile at her, hold her, tell her that she means more to you than anything else. And you’re refusing to meet her halfway because of an oath you made a thousand years ago. Every time you find yourself in a situation when you’re alone together, you project your panic onto her, and she thinks you don’t want her.‛ ‚God almighty,‛ he said, bowing his head, cupping it with his hands. ‚How can she possibly like someone like me? I didn’t ask for it! I have a wandering existence, never in the same place for more than five years. What could she see in me that she’d like? I’m not attentive to her wants, I don’t encourage her. I’ve been alone for a millennium, and I will probably continue that way forever before my oath is fulfilled!‛ Charlotte shrugged. ‚Want to conduct a little experiment with me that might finally allow you to fulfill your oath?‛ The stunned look of amazement on his face made her smile momentarily. ‚Really?‛ He swallowed hard, perspiration forming at his brow. She nodded, taking his hand.
***** Angela lingered around Japan for another hour before she turned to the east and the open ocean beyond. She discovered she could draw energy from the Earth’s vast supply, keeping herself going without becoming too winded. Her stomach told her it was starving, but her head was clear and body wasn’t fatigued. She still pondered her destination. Was she thinking about heading home again? Home is where the heart is. She frowned, trying to change her line of thought, but failing. For her, home had become the apartment in Moscow overlooking the city, with the twins, Charlotte and Alex, and Roland and Katiya. She closed her eyes against the images. And Franklin. Halfway across the Pacific, a thousand miles from any living human being, she realized she had never felt as lonely in her life. It was a crippling feeling, her anguish tightening up her chest and stomach muscles so she could barely breathe. She curled up, losing altitude and crashing into the ocean in a plume that could be seen for miles around if anyone had been there to witness. Under the water her wards snapped up, and fresh air surrounded her. She looked up at the surface, a spiderweb of moonlight. How difficult would it be to drop her wards and let herself drown? Would anyone miss her? Those are grim thoughts, young lady, said a familiar old mind. Every life has a purpose and forms part of the pattern of all existence. She thought her mind was unraveling. She felt around, and discovered to her amazement that she wasn’t alone. Old Friend? But how? His thoughts were gentle. You decided to take your dip near the Stronghold. Lady Arbiter< where’s your young man? Angela felt her face heat up, even underwater. I’m traveling alone. The old man appeared before her with his shimmering wards. He gestured to the surface, and they both rose, breaking into the night air. ‚My Young Friend, ah, Alex, mentioned that you had an aura of luck about you that was uncanny.‛ He smiled. ‚I usually dismiss such talk as superstition, but I can’t ignore the fact that in an ocean half the size of Earth, you touched down a mile directly above the Stronghold.‛ ‚It’s underwater!‛ she exclaimed. ‚Of course! That explains why the Hunters could never find it! They couldn’t get close enough, since they can’t make wards. And their Hounds would have to get very close to even sense the place.‛
He smiled delightedly. ‚You are as brilliant as Alex told me,‛ he said. ‚So why are you traveling alone, after just finding your family?‛ ‚I wanted to see the world,‛ she said quietly. ‚I didn’t want company.‛ ‚You do now,‛ he said, his face serene. ‚Let’s travel together for awhile. It wouldn’t do to be spotted out here in the middle of the Pacific. We’ll continue along your course until you decide where you’re going.‛ He gave her a sidelong glance. ‚Besides, this will give us an opportunity to talk. You’re a young immortal, and probably have many questions you’d like answered.‛ Angela smiled. The old man was hard to resist. ***** ‚Oh my god,‛ said Arce, laughing so hard she hoped she wouldn’t pee herself. Everyone sat in front of the television with different expressions, everywhere from horror, to shock, to full mirth. ‚Ivan wasn’t joking,‛ said Iris with a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. There, on screen, stood Angela with Sonja drawn. They’d never seen a resonator on television. Her unearthly beauty still came across perfectly clear. There were photos of her walking through the streets of Japan, talking to people. The part that had Arce rolling around with tears in her eyes showed Angela levitating, and suddenly vanish. Translation, please? asked Alex, not understanding the Russian commentary. They’re calling her the Golden Haired Angel of Akihabara, said Charlotte. Arce gasped in a breath, then broke down again in gales of laughter. She wandered into the biggest district of comic and animation geeks in Tokyo, looking like that! Iris leaned in closer. ‚Hey, that was Hachi in that photo.‛ Charlotte’s lips curled. ‚I bet he wasn’t impressed with her little stunt.‛ Sherlock sat quietly, watching the images on screen. Once again he found himself drawn to her. She seemed happy in the photos, her brilliant smile and large blue eyes making his chest ache. Just before she vanished, he saw the expression of gratitude on her face, and he understood. She knew what she was doing, and what she’d accomplished. And she’d loved being in the spotlight, if even just for an hour. ‚We’ve all gone through it,‛ said Charlotte, leaning into Alex. ‚The rumors turn into stories, that turn into mythology. If we don’t become gods, we become saints or heroes. Or, in her case,‛ she nodded to the screen, ‚angels.‛ He stopped breathing. He felt a surge of excitement rush through him, and cold sweat on his brow. His hands started trembling.
Angel. Angela. His eyes closed, and he felt a shudder go through him. Could it be? His vision doubled for a moment, and he brought a trembling hand up to rub his eyes. ‚Franklin?‛ asked Alex. ‚Are you alright?‛ The younger immortal raised his head, turning to look at Charlotte. ‚I’m going after her,‛ he said, not realizing he’d even spoken. ‚Finally!‛ said Arce and Iris at the same time. ***** The old man was a joy to talk to. He was a breathing, talking history book. As they continued eastward, Angela shot question after question at him, clarifying myth versus fact. She was disappointed to discover most of the old stories were fairy tales, although there were the occasional truths that surprised her. ‚Grendel was REAL?!‛ she gasped. ‚And Beowulf!‛ Grendel was a Second Born Mutator, one of Hunter blood. Beowulf was a Hunter. The powerful primeval Mutators were not friendly nor rational creatures. Even Hunters counted them as enemies, having to destroy them when they found them. Beowulf managed to take him down, but it wasn’t an easy fight. Wow. The Mutators were usually more aggressive and higher profile. And stupid. They tended to hunt without discretion, and maintain lairs to live in. Eventually they were hunted to near extinction by both Hunters and Warders. ‘Near extinction’? The smaller, lesser aggressive Second Born Mutators are still around. Why are they called ‘Second Born?’ The old man smiled. Ah, even us Immortals have myths, Angela. The First Born were our predecessors, long before humanity. The Second Born came after the First Born vanished, having ethereal blood in their veins of either Mutator or Guardian strain. The Third Born are humanity and the other creatures of Earth. And we immortals are the Fourth Born, coming after the advent of humanity. Incredible. I heard you’ve been a lover of fairy tales since you were a little girl, he said. Would you like to meet the Second Born creatures of Guardian blood? Her eyes widened. Really?! That would be so great! He changed their direction a touch south of due east. I know a grove in Central America where there’s a colony of Guardians. I’m sure they’ll be happy to meet you, too. Her excitement grew. One of her lifelong dreams was coming true.
Thank you so very much! she said, beaming happily.
CHAPTER 10 – FADHILI AND AURORA My name is Fadhili, she said meekly to the city. I’m a Hunter. I’ve come on a mission of peace under the auspices of the Arbiters. She had flown with occasionally stops from Moscow, making her way across Europe, the Atlantic, and the northern tip of South America. As she approached Panama, she started to feel the pull, just as Lady Angela had said she would. It was growing stronger as she became familiar with its feel. So what? came the reply from the city. She was at a loss. Would it be possible for me to enter the city? she asked. No, I don’t think so, said the voice. She felt the bond grow, the link drawing her to the city. Please? she asked, despairing. I need to enter. Ah, isn’t that sweet, said the Warder mind with scorn. She’s looking for her soulmate. You can beg all you want, but we won’t let you in. Please? she could feel the tears rolling down her face. It means much to me. The Warder’s mind laughed harshly. If you enter the city without our permission, we’ll consider it an act of aggression and respond accordingly. She sobbed, dropping to an uninhabited beach a few miles from the city. So close, but it might as well be a million miles away. She felt the bond as it grew stronger and stronger, almost tearing her apart. How could she resist the pull without going insane? She sat down on a log, her head low, tears running. She knew she could only hold out for a few hours, until it became so powerful that she would enter the city with or without permission. And die shortly thereafter. She pushed back her hood and stared at the sky, sobbing. She eventually went to sleep from exhaustion. Sometime during the night, she woke up feeling refreshed, as if she’d had a wonderful dream. She stretched and stood, turning to find a woman sitting on a log nearby, watching her. She was dressed in a loose-fitting Tshirt and jeans, sandals on her feet and a wreath of flowers in her shoulder length blonde hair. Hello, said the stranger. My name is Aurora. My name is Fadhili, she answered. They stared at each other. The Hunter woman stood uncertainly, looking at the thirtysomething girl. There was something about her that she found very< intoxicating. It didn’t make her afraid, just excited. You’re a Warder, aren’t you? she asked. To her surprise, she felt calm and peaceful.
Yes. And you’re a Hunter. Interesting, isn’t it? Why aren’t we at each other’s throats? Aurora smiled gently. ‚I watched you sleep,‛ she said in perfect Swahili, ‚wondering the same thing. And as I watched you, I realized there was something about you that I found amazing and exciting.‛ They stood still, staring at each other. ‚It’s you, isn’t it?‛ asked Fadhili. ‚You’re my soul mate.‛ Ah, I wondered, said Aurora. Disappointed? Fadhili blushed. ‚I’d never thought of a woman as a lover before,‛ she admitted. ‚I don’t know if I’m capable of feeling that way.‛ Aurora nodded. ‚I understand. Let’s get to know each other. My family here in Panama are traditional, so they don’t care for Hunters. Let’s go somewhere else and talk.‛ ‚I’d like that, and I am happy to meet you,‛ said the Hunter with a smile. ‚I’m so tired of this war against each other.‛ ‚Me too,‛ said Aurora. Shyly, they smiled and hugged. What came next was a shock to them both. It was like a bolt of lightning had traveled through them, lighting up every nerve ending in their bodies. Both inhaled raggedly, backing away quickly from each other and staring. ‚Oh!‛ they both said at the same time. Smiles spread, and they both laughed. ‚That was just a little amazing,‛ said Aurora, rubbing her arms to make the fine hair settle. Fadhili stayed quiet, confused by her feelings as she watched the other woman rub her arms. Their gazes met again. ‚I don’t know what to say,‛ said Fadhili. ‚That was< profound.‛ Aurora stood uncertainly, then put her hands on her hips. ‚This is ridiculous. I know what I want to do right now. I want to hug you again.‛ The African woman smiled, holding out her arms. They came together again. The jolt of energy came again, but to both of them it felt right and good, like their auras had connected at a deeper level. Aurora’s head buried in Fadhili’s shoulder. ‚I don’t think I’d object to you as a lover,‛ she whispered. ‚You are a beautiful person, inside and out.‛ Fadhili surprised herself.
‚I’d always dreamed of finding someone to love, who I could share my life with. Now I find myself standing with her in my arms, and it doesn’t seem strange that she’s a woman. Isn’t that odd?‛ They lingered in the embrace. Then they backed off enough so their eyes met. Their heads tilted and lips parted. ***** Old Friend was regaling her with a tale of ancient China when Angela was hit by the wave of distortion. It seemed like reality had warped. She looked over at Old Friend, whose eyebrows had shot up on his forehead. She recognized the sensation, almost exactly the same as Roland and Katiya when they’d joined and... She gasped, getting her bearings. How far is it to Panama City? she shot to Old Friend. Fifty miles along the coastline. She cheered, wobbling in flight. Let’s go! With a burst of speed, she screamed through the air, raising a ward to make herself more aerodynamic. Old Friend shook his head, sighing. Young people, always in a hurry to be somewhere. ***** The two women pulled back from each other, their eyes wide. The sharing had been amazing. They both felt their lives had been exchanged, every detail open to the other person. All the hope and longing, despair and rejoicing they’d ever had become the other’s to feel. All their experiences, including learning their own powers, were exchanged. It was like they couldn’t tell where one had started and the other began. Fadhili raised a lock of her braided hair and saw it had turned golden from ebon black. Then she noticed her skin had lightened to a creamy brown. Aurora’s eyes had turned from light blue to dark brown, her skin darkening to match Fadhili’s. They stared at each other, and broke into smiles at the same time, embracing again. They’re coming, said Aurora, her smile fading. They don’t seem happy, said Fadhili. They don’t, do they? Both women sat beside each other, facing the direction of the inbound Warders. They clasped hands, leaning into each other. ‚I’m so happy I met you,‛ said Fadhili softly, sadly. ‚Don’t lose hope yet,‛ said Aurora, her head cocked at an angle. YOU VERMIN, thundered the dark haired Warder as he landed. He strode up to the two woman, glaring at Fadhili. I should kill you where you sit, you filth! The rest of his family landed behind him, four strong. They looked unhappy and angry.
Why would you do that? asked Fadhili. I was only looking for my soulmate, not meaning you any harm. Why deny me? The male yanked at Aurora, tearing her away from Fadhili. Because she was not yours to have. Ah, I see, said Fadhili. I’m sorry for your loss. He pushed Aurora behind him, into the arms of his family. It’s nothing your death can’t fix, he said, approaching her. I wouldn’t do that, said a new voice at his side. Everyone turned with amazement, not even noticing her arrival. They gasped. They were literally stunned by her beauty. Her golden hair drifted about in the sea breeze, her blue eyes locked on the leader of the group. Her face was expressionless. She held in her left hand a sheathed sword. Back away, now, she said. He turned on her angrily, calling up a ward to crush her. Before he’d even focused his will, her sword was drawn and at his throat. Back away, now, she repeated. If you threaten my family again, I will wipe you all out. Understood? What drove the point home was her lack of emotion. It was chilling enough to make them all realize she was not bluffing. Isn’t that Lady Angela? asked one of the Warders in the back, drawing to the side so he could see her better. Gods, I think it is, said another in awe. She’s beautiful. The woman stayed unsmiling. Now go, or stay, and leave these two in peace. I have a task to perform. By this time, Old Friend had arrived. He alighted on the beach near the group of Warders, and they took confidence in his presence. He smiled at everyone. Hello young people, he said. I see you’ve met our Lady Arbiter. This Hunter has come to take Aurora away from us! said one of the other Warders, a woman. She was obviously expecting Old Friend to react with shock and outrage. What Hunter would you be talking about? he asked innocently, looking around. Angela beckoned Fadhili to her, and motioned to Aurora to approach. She drew them closer, her arms around their shoulders, and smiled. I’m new at this, so you’ll have to be patient. The two women looked at each other, not sure what the Arbiter meant. Angela focused her energies, linking with the two women. She felt around with her senses, trying to contact the Earth’s electromagnetic field. Finally, she stumbled on it and latched on, feeling the link to the power system of the entire planet. It was terrible and awesome, like riding a thunderbolt.
She directed her thoughts through it like Rhea and Franklin had done, broadcasting her thoughts to the world. Behold! she said, happily, squeezing the shoulders of both the women. Behold, the newly Ascended. Behold them, brethren, and forget your strife this day. Both Aurora and Fadhili looked at each other with wide eyes, realization coming to them. Behold Aurora and Fadhili, newborn to the Arbiters. The Warders, despite their hostility, automatically dropped to their knees, including Old Friend. This is becoming routine, he grumbled. I’m going to have to get into the habit of wearing knee pads soon. ***** Sherlock was rocked in flight at the power and joy in her words, as they rolled over the world. He knew Aurora. She had been a shy, lovely Warder, as much a pacifist as one could be. Fadhili’s name sounded familiar, but for some reason he pictured an African woman. Welcome to your new family, said Rhea through the link. Welcome! came the twins’ eager response. Greetings, sisters, said Roland, with Katiya’s response soon after. Guan Yu and Forseti joined in greeting, as did Alex and Charlotte. Cytherea did the equivalent of a mental nod. Franklin smiled. Welcome, you two. I wish you both happiness. Thank you all, they said together. They were both indeed women. Franklin smiled and shrugged. He didn’t know why he had thought that soul mates had to be opposite genders. It meant less to immortals, who couldn’t reproduce, than it did to mortals. He really did wish them both the best. And now the Arbiters numbered fourteen, twice the number they had been before Angela had Ascended.
CHAPTER 11 – THE EXISTENCE OF FAIRIES Old Friend led the three Arbiters over the jungles of Central America. He talked to them all, putting them all at ease after the tension of the early morning. Don’t be distressed by their actions, young ladies, he had said. You would be angry, too, in the same position. But your bond isn’t something that can be denied. It’s not your fault. No one has the right to stop you from being together.
I always thought the Romeo-and-Juliet bond was romantic hogwash, said Aurora with embarrassment. But I know how they feel now. Her eyes met Fadhili’s and they both blushed. Angela smiled, although she felt dead inside. She was happy beyond words for the two of them, but at the same time, she felt a horrible worm of resentment wiggling its way through her mind. Why so angry? asked Old Friend privately, drawing closer to her in flight. You have gained new family. You are newly immortal, and the future stretches before you. You are loved, and you love. What more is there? Angela glared over at him. Your information is inaccurate. Who loves me? Who do I love? He regarded her, and sighed. Let’s enjoy this trip. Don’t become poisoned by your feelings. The girls had drawn together within vocal range so they could talk privately. Angela felt the jealously rise again as she saw their shining faces. She hated herself for her feelings. She hated her aura reading invention that told her she’d never bond with someone like that. She hated her immortal existence, knowing she wouldn’t find someone she could share with like that. She dropped from anger to depression, her sudden shift surprising her. She never realized she was manic depressive, being a level-headed woman most of her life. Close to panic, she forced herself to visualize her ritualistic karate kata routine, breathing deeply. The anger and sorrow slipped away, and she started to feel serene again. Better, said the old man to her with a mental nod. You should never visit the Guardians when you are full of negative emotion. They are extremely sensitive. I’ll never get used to having my mind picked like that by ancient immortals, she answered. It’s sort of embarrassing. It’s not something we can control, said Old Friend. As we age, we become more attuned to the life energies around us. Whether Hunter, Warder or Arbiter, we become able to channel or focus these energies much more efficiently as the centuries pass. In addition to eavesdropping, our own ingrained powers become enhanced. For example, my Wards are extremely powerful. I can manipulate human thoughts and memories. I can sense auras and life energy at an extreme distance, even if it’s being suppressed. Supressed? she questioned. Your friend Charlotte asked my help finding her lost soulmate Alex, he said. I found him many times over the years, despite the fact that his immortal self was asleep. But each time it ended in disaster. Whenever I pointed him out for her, she would get too close, and he’d react to her proximity, awakening abruptly. His human body hadn’t gone through the process of Ascension, and it invariably ended with his body’s self-immolation from trying to contain his energy. I finally came up with a solution. Her abilities couldn’t recognize him in human form, but her proximity was necessary to awaken him. So I told her to take a job at the school he was working
at, not explaining myself. Then I watched him, feeding him dreams and memories during the night, suppressing his memories and reactions during consciousness so he wouldn’t awaken prematurely. After a few weeks his body evolved to the point where he was almost Ascending. I finally released his memory, and he awakened from mortality. He smiled from the memory. It was a wonderful thing, greeting my Young Friend for the first time in two thousand years. He had been my closest companion for millennia. He paused, his thoughts drifting. But when he met her again, when he saw her again through his immortal eyes, when the realization struck her of who was holding her and looking at her with love and memory in his eyes, when their lips met, and their souls came together again< Angela’s mind was seeing the scene, given her by Old Friend. She felt the tears pouring down her cheeks at the power of emotion between the two immortals, reunited after two millennia. My power is as nothing compared to that, he said with a smile. This isn’t something to envy, Young Lady. This is something to admire, and feel in awe of. You shouldn’t hate your invention. You have made it possible for us to find the people we were meant to be with like that. Your life is a gift to us all. She threw herself into the old man’s arms in mid-flight. Thank you, Old Friend. Her tears stained his light brown cassock. I needed that. ***** ‚Oh, they’re beautiful!‛ said Fadhili quietly to Aurora in Swahali. ‚I never knew.‛ The two women stood together, their hands linked, staring at the grove in the middle of the jungle. Around them, the Second Born creatures of Guardian blood were frolicking or walking sedately, bathed in the glow of light that seemed to come from all the greenery around them. Proof positive you are no longer a Hunter, said Old Friend. A creature like a long-tailed bird alighted on the dark-skinned woman’s shoulder, running a beak through her hair. She stroked its soft plumage, a look of wonder on her face. It was beautiful. We of immortal blood are about eighty percent energy. We have enough material left to our bodies that we can be seen by humanity and other living beings. These creatures of Guardian blood are fully energy. Humans cannot see them unless they materialize for them. Gifted humans and animals can sense them, like lingering auras. Angela stared at a creature that resembled a horse, a large spire protruding from its forehead. She felt her tears falling as the creature stared back at her, its large dark eyes unblinking. Her immortality was worth this single endless moment, staring at a creature of mythology that she had hoped beyond hope existed, but she knew never could. She hoped it would come to her, but she knew it wouldn’t. Mythology said only virgins could get close to them, but she had had that torn away from her. She wanted to go to it, to run her hands through its long shining mane, touch its spiraling horn, but she knew her heart would break as it moved away from her.
It was a magnificent creature. Her breath caught as it walked toward her, its muscles rippled and long tail with a tuft at the end twitched, her heart jumping with each step that brought it closer. Before she knew what was happening, it nudged her with its nose, nearly toppling her. Awestruck, she felt its bearded jaw, running her hand along the side of its face. Its smell was of nature, like sundrenched fields of wheat, rolling mountainsides filled with flowers, electric scent of deep desert. ‚Well, there’s one myth that’s busted,‛ she said, running her hand through its mane. ‚Virginity isn’t necessary to touch a unicorn.‛ The creature raised its head, alert. With a joyful neigh, it trotted away, leaving her standing with her hand still in the air. It vanished into the jungle, and she sighed sadly. She focused again on the glade around her, taking in the sight. It was so much more than she imagined. Yes, there were little creatures that resembled the fairies of mythology. But there were also others, like large butterflies, birds and creatures with one to five hundred limbs. There were creatures like starfishes, groundhogs, bees and fish. One even resembled a bird’s nest of ribbons. Literally hundreds of them lived in the glade in harmony, and it seemed nature responded with love and peace. She looked around again, realizing Old Friend had vanished, along with the two girls. She smiled, having wondered how long they could resist before they wanted to be alone. The crackling of undergrowth turned her head back to the jungle. The noble creature had emerged, its side touching a man who walked beside it with a serene smile. ‚Franklin!‛ she gasped, startling a few of the creatures nearby. She felt faint, staring at the man. The equine dipped its head elegantly as they approached. When it stopped near her, she raised her hand and touched it, still staring at the Arbiter. ‚It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?‛ he said, looking around, his eyes not meeting hers. ‚I’m glad you got to see this.‛ She waited for him to look at her, but when his eyes finally rested, they settled on the mane of the unicorn, where her hand was stroking. He smiled. ‚Unicorns are wonderful, aren’t they?‛ he said, his own hand touching the mane not far from hers. She found herself close to him again, and her blood pounded in her ears so she could barely hear him. ‚They are creatures that have appeared in our myths for thousands of years. They embody beauty, strength and purity.‛ Angela leaned towards its head, and it let her put her face next to it. ‚I’m glad not all mythology is accurate,‛ she said, caressing it. ‚I couldn’t stand seeing it running away from me.‛ Sherlock’s expression become puzzled, then cleared as he understood. ‚You’re wrong,‛ he said. ‚They are attracted to virgins. In its eyes, you are still pure.‛ Angela’s eyes widened, staring at the creature. ‚Doesn’t it know? Can’t it sense what happened to me?‛ He placed his hand on her shoulder, and she felt the tingles travel down her spine. ‚It knows you are pure, Angela. That is enough.‛
The creature nudged its soft nose against her head, and she began to cry again. Sherlock’s arms encircled her, and she cried into his shoulder. I’ve cried more in the last twenty-four hours than in my entire lifetime, she moaned. I’m falling apart. Why did you run away? he asked, stroking her hair. We were worried about you. The twins were practically tearing the apartment apart. Charlotte was ready to kill me if I didn’t come after you. Angela’s blood chilled, remembered why she’d left. She straightened up and backed away. ‚I used the aura harmonics software on myself,‛ she admitted, feeling her horror creep up on her again. The unicorn moved away as it felt her negative emotions build. ‚<and..?‛ Sherlock asked. ‚I shouldn’t have done it, Franklin,‛ she said quietly, staring at him. ‚It was the biggest mistake I’d ever made.‛ His eyes finally met hers. There was something odd in his expression. ‚Was it that important to you?‛ he asked. She walked over to a nearby rock and sat, needing its stability. ‚When I was a little girl, Franklin, I was alone most of the time. Not by choice, but because my personality, looks and intelligence separated me from everyone.‛ She shuddered. ‚It was a cold, sterile existence. I probably would have drawn completely away from the rest of humanity, if it wasn’t for the stories I read.‛ Her thoughts drifted back, and she didn’t notice as he sat next to her. ‚I loved the romances, the stories that combined myth with history. The stories of Charlemagne and our Roland, the sagas of Beowulf and Brynhildr, Arthurian myths in many languages. Ancient myths were more culturally disjointed, and I lost the feeling of romance in them. But modern man around the fifth century and beyond< I could project myself into the stories and feel them around me. In those stories, I loved tragically a million times, was held by chivalric knights a thousand more. I was a lady over whom knights would duel.‛ She leaned into Sherlock, and he felt her warmth. ‚I had grown up in my mortal existence, hoping beyond hope that I’d be taken away by a knight in shining armor, knowing as I grew older that it was just a dream. Then the experience with Pettisbridge almost destroyed my faith.‛ She closed her mouth, not trusting her trembling voice. Then, after I saw the happiness our aura harmonics was creating, I realized I had one last chance to find my knight. I wanted to have that person that I could be with, that would make my existence worth living. I had lived alone all my live. I wanted to belong to someone. Sherlock rose and unstrapped a small pack he was wearing. In his hands, he held her laptop computer. ‚Here, Angela. This is yours.‛
She reached out for it, then took her hand back. ‚I don’t know if I can touch it ever again.‛ He nodded, sitting down on the rock beside her again. ‚I understand now,‛ he said quietly. ‚You must have been devastated.‛ She hung her head silently. ‚I was twenty-four,‛ he began, opening the laptop computer. ‚I’d been feeling strange all day, and the storm was raging outside the castle in the streets of Caerleon. I was in the chamber of the Round Table that night, explaining to the others what the chalice upon my breastplate meant, when I Ascended.‛ He nodded, starting the software both of them developed. ‚Ascendance affects all of us in different ways. Katiya’s was spectacular, with all of Moscow blanketed in goodwill and peace. Yours was amazing with the pure power of nature that responded to your awakening, and altering Charlotte and Alex’s looks. Mine was< very different.‛ He paused, his finger above the keyboard. ‚There was a vision, Angela. Everyone at the Table saw the same vision. They saw a grail cup, clasped in the bosom of what could only be an angel of God. They were dazzled by it, some struck dumb for days afterward. It was soon spread amongst the membership that it was the Holy Grail, the sangréal of myth, the cup which bore the blood of Jesus. They created the rumor that led to an exodus of knights from Caerleon and across the known world, looking for the Grail.‛ She was spellbound, listening to his story. This man had been there, the cause of the most celebrated mythical search in human history. He called up a file on the computer, and turned the computer to her. She looked at the computer screen he had turned to her. She saw it displaying the results from her search, and sighed. ‚Angela,‛ he said, looking at her until her eyes met his. ‚What would you say if I told you that you do have a soulmate?‛ Her breath caught in her throat. He had told her once that he never said anything unless he was absolutely sure of himself. ‚For real?‛ she said, her eyes darting back to the computer. ‚But the software doesn’t lie!‛ ‚No, it doesn’t,‛ he said. ‚But it also doesn’t show the user’s aura on search results.‛ Angela’s eyes widened, looking back at the computer screen. ‚The knights around me< they saw the cup of Jesus held by a messenger of God, but my eyes never left the form of the entity that clasped the chalice. I was one of those struck dumb by the experience, passing out.‛ He turned the computer back to himself, tapping a few keys again.
‚I took an oath silently at that point that I would never rest until I died, until I found the ethereal beauty who held the chalice in her bosom so lovingly. And that is why I never took a wife or woman all my days.‛ Angela felt her tears course down her cheeks again, feeling the pain of the man beside her. ‚You can’t imagine what it was like. After the first lifetime of men had passed, I despaired that she had been just a figment of my imagination. But Merlin – Old Friend – had assured me that he’d seen similar things in his long years, and that it was a true vision. He said he had sensed an anomaly when it happened< time had twisted, and I’d seen a glimpse of something in my future.‛ He turned the computer back to her again, shutting his eyes. ‚I never got the opportunity to explain to my friends what the symbol on my breastplate meant. It was my adopted family’s seal. My real name is Galahad Calice. French for chalice. Her eyes left his face and looked down at the screen. It was another aura resonance search. It was conducted from the apartment in Moscow a few hours after she had fled from it. It showed a map of the world, with a single light flashing on it. She zoomed in, feeling her heart expand painfully as she panned in on Japan, local time 9:00 pm. She felt her breath catch in a sob. ‚I was on the roof of the apartment, directly above you when you did your search,‛ he said. ‚Do you know what your name means, Angela?‛ Her eyes slowly traveled from the computer to his face. His eyes were gentle, shining. He smiled. ‚It means ‘Messenger of God’,‛ he said, folding up the computer carefully and turning to her. ‚I’ve been searching for you for a very long time.‛ Before she knew what she was doing, she had crushed herself to him, feeling her body crying out in happiness. He held her, his hands stroking her hair. They backed away, and their eyes locked. She licked her lips, and he smiled, bending forward and kissing her gently. It became more passionate as they felt the world slide sideways and reality unwind.
CHAPTER 12 – FLASH POINT Iris and Arce were in Japan, in the Akihabara district of Tokyo when they felt the wave of distortion hit. What the hell? Arce looked at Iris with wide eyes. Her cat ears slipped on her head as the vertigo forced her to sit down on the sidewalk quickly, Iris beside her. Hachi still stood, but his head was tilted, his eyes unfocused. I’ve never felt something of this magnitude before, he said. It’s awesome. Like the earth is reacting to something, and the ley lines of energy are activating.
It’s like Katiya and Roland when they joined, said Iris, but immeasurably more powerful. There was a lull in the storm, then a tremendous wave of energy hit, knocking even Hachi off his feet. The girls sprawled full length on the cement walkway. All the humans stood still in amazement, looking around, knowing something strange had happened. Gods almighty! said the powerful mind of a Hunter in the Sea of Japan. This was repeated by all Hunters and Warders alike in the area. What just happened? said Roland, his mind traveling through the world-link to the other Arbiters. It was like we got run over by a steamroller. All the immortals in the eastern seaboard of the states got nailed. Same with China, said Guan Yu. They’ve literally been laid out like they got hit by a brick wall. And the Slavic nations, said Forseti. It’s world-wide, answered Rhea. In all my life, I’ve never experienced such a disturbance in the Earth’s energy. A new voice entered the family link. There was no mistaking the mind behind it. It’s only happened once before, Rhea. But it was before your time. Old Friend! But how are you able to speak in our link? asked Rhea. It’s not so strange, said the old man. Your young lady and man have done something amazing, which has shaken the foundation of all we know. Oh no, said Iris, her panic palatable. What happened to Angela and Franklin? Please say they’re still alive. There was silence in the link. Everyone in the family felt horror. Wait, said the new member, Fadhili. Angela is still alive, I can feel her here. Along with the man. All the family breathed with relief. They’re both very weak, said Aurora. And there’s something different about them. Wait, we’re almost with them. Everyone listened raptly. Oh, gods! exclaimed Aurora, and her mind went blank for a moment. WHAT?! screeched the twins simultaneous. They’re< the young Arbiter fell silent. They’re beautiful, finished Fadhili. They’re beyond resonating. There are no words. ***** Angela was the first to awake. She felt weak as a newborn kitten. When she and Galahad had kissed, it had been like a jolt of lightening had struck them both down. In the back of her mind, she heard her Arbiter family talking excitedly. She propped herself up on an elbow and looked down at her soul mate, who’d opened his eyes to slits, looking up at her. Hello, love, he said, sending tingles up and down her spine. You’re very beautiful, she said to him, leaning down and kissing him. I wonder what happened.
He smiled weakly. You mean, to make me beautiful? She rolled her eyes, and he winked at her. I don’t know if I could survive another jolt like that. They helped each other sit up, leaning against each other for support. ‚I feel different,‛ she said out loud. ‚Like I’ve been reborn.‛ ‚Me too,‛ he said. His hands traced her face. ‚If it’s possible, you look even more beautiful than you did.‛ They kissed again, and both felt a jolt of pleasure. Wow, she said. Just< wow. Are you two alright? They tore their gaze off each other, and looked at the two girls standing uncertainly next to each other, hands clasped. Aurora was squirming, only taking quick glances at them before she looked back to Fadhili. The former Hunter smiled, her eyes not leaving the two sitting on the ground. Something has happened to you two, she said. Much like us when we joined, you’ve taken characteristics from each other. But you both glow now. Your beauty is so much more than it used to be. Angela frowned. This could be a problem. Old Friend stepped into the glade. For the first time, Angela knew he was there without trying to sense him. Both she and Galahad turned their heads and watched him leave the forest cover. Hello youngsters, he said with a smile. I see you’re recovering. That’s good. Angela had a suspicion, but the man seated beside her voiced his question first. What happened to us? The old man approached them, and sat on the rock they had fallen from. The short story? his smile deepened. He scratched his hooked nose. You Ascended again. Again?! They both looked at each other. Again, he answered. And this time, the Earth reacted in a magnitude that I haven’t seen since this whole fiasco began. He was silent. Angela and Galahad felt their legs regain strength. They slowly got to their feet, supporting each other. Reconciliation. The old man bent his head and his shoulders heaved a tremendous sigh. Finally. The two weak immortals stared at the old man. Meaning what? asked Angela. The old man stood, clearing his eyes. He grasped them both in a fierce hug.
When you both Ascended, you transcended beyond mere Hunter, Warder or Arbiter. The energy released was global, and the Earth remembered. It remembered what it was like at the very beginning, before immortals were split apart and factions formed. Before the blood became tainted in its half-state, and immortal killed immortal in blood-driven rage. It remembered, and it responded. He hugged them tighter, and called forth with a power that seemed uncannily familiar to the two. It rode the energy lines of the Earth, and they both felt the rightness of it. Ye of immortal bloods, rejoice, boomed Old Friend globally. A new age has dawned, one I have awaited since the war at the dawn of humanity. He paused, giving immortals around the world time to quiet down and listen. We were once all as one, but we lost this bond with dissention amongst our ranks. A cataclysmic event split us all apart, casting our souls into limbo. When we began to remember, we started to awaken, Ascend. But we were divided in power, spirit and hatred. Over the countless millennia, occasionally two people of the different tribes were drawn together, and by so doing, they rejoined their split souls and reformed close to the original form. Those who are listening and understand what I mean, you can stop living in fear. You became Arbiters, and there are many more of you out there than you think. But occasionally an untainted soul returned to us, and was born as an Arbiter, close to our original state. And into these Arbiters was born Galahad and Angela. He paused, every immortal on Earth listening raptly. This day Angela and Galahad have Ascended to our original state. There was a hush. Many immortals were exchanging conversations, wondering what this meant. The event you felt was the Earth awakening, remembering how we were. It has swept across us all – Warder, Hunter and Arbiter alike, rebuilding us closer to our true natures. His voice raised. Our blood is no longer tainted. The Guardian and Mutator blood lines have been reunited! The tremendous babble of disbelief was so strong, it could be felt by humanity. Disbelief, followed by hope, followed by joy as former Warders realized they couldn’t sense a Hunter within their limits. Most Hunters already believed, having watched their Hounds vanish and reform into strange creatures they’d never seen before. The War is over. We are all of the Arbiters now. There was a short pause before Rhea jumped into the link. Everyone could sense the beaming smile on her face. Welcome to our family, everyone.
EPILOGUE
‚I have to admit, this is extremely strange not having to look over your shoulder every second of the day, wondering when you’ll get jumped,‛ said Anthony, a former Hunter. He sat in a sidewalk café in San Francisco, sharing a table with three other immortals. Six months ago, he and Gregory would have been battling Wyn and Stephanie to the death. Now they’d all became friends, Gregory and Wyn becoming lovers. Stephanie and himself had just met a week ago, and they had both become closer. ‚I hope we don’t become decadent now that peace has broken out,‛ said Wyn, her teeth bright as she laughed. ‚Even now, I can barely remember what it was like to live in fear.‛ Gregory smiled at her while he sipped a coffee, his free hand slipping under the table and squeezing her thigh. She squealed and punched him lightly, her face going red. Anthony and Stephanie laughed. ‚Guess who’s sleeping on the couch tonight?‛ she said, her face in a pout. ‚No problem,‛ he said, smiling around his coffee mug. ‚There’s room for two on it.‛ He received another punch, and the laughter continued. When the mirth died down, Stephanie spoke. ‚I wonder what happened to Lady Angela and Galahad?‛ she asked. ‚It’s been awhile since anyone’s seen them.‛ ‚All I’ve heard is crazy rumors,‛ Anthony said. ‚Have you guys heard the rumor they’re total energy now, like the Second Born?‛ ‚Yes,‛ said Stephanie excitedly, leaning closer. ‚I hear they can travel anywhere instantly now, using the Earth’s ley lines.‛ ‚But I heard they could materialize their bodies again, so mortals can see them and they can interact with objects,‛ said Anthony, leaning even closer. ‚And they can detect sleeping immortals and find soulmates without their technology,‛ said Stephanie, so close now that her shoulders touched his. ‚And they’re both amazingly beautiful,‛ he said, his eyes locked on hers. They were quiet for awhile, staring at each other. When they broke eye contact, they realized they were alone at the table. A note had been left by Gregory and Wyn. ‚Sorry, have to run. Realized there was a kitchen table we hadn’t tested out. Catch you later!‛ Stephanie blushed, and Anthony smiled, standing. ‚Want to go for a walk?‛ She nodded, and he left some money on the table. Their hands meshed together, and they walked away, leaning into each other. ***** Angela stood outside the maternity ward, looking in the window. The wrinkled pink faces were all mostly asleep. She looked over at Galahad, who nodded. She nodded back, stepping through the wall and entering the room alone.
She walked along the aisles of cribs, looking into the faces and smiling. Even in her pure energy state, the babies were able to sense her presence, just as Sherlock had told her months before. She walked past the cribs until she found the one she was looking for. Hello, Wilson Pettisbridge, she said, staring at the soul in the baby. What?! How did you find me? asked the soul, awakening with a start. Who are you? She smiled, projecting an image into his thoughts. Remember? The scene showed a naked woman covered in bloodstains. She had risen from the floor as he opened the door and raced toward him, first smashing him in the face, disarming him, then slicing open his abdomen with the machete he had been carrying. Remember? The soul in the baby recoiled. No! How did you find me? She looked down at the face of the baby in all its innocence. You are a twisted soul, Wilson, she said. It’s not difficult for me anymore. The question is, now that I found you, what should I do with you? You can’t do anything to me. Killing this body will only throw me back into the circle of life. I’ll eventually be born again. Will you repent? she asked. Will you renounce your dark nature of inflicting pain and misery on others? The soul sneered. I repent nothing. I rejoice in it. And when this child is grown, I will repeat it over and over. That is my nature, just as it’s your nature to be a victim. Angela’s face turned to stone. Wilson, I once sentenced you to death. I was not a victim then, and I am not one now. This day, you shall not be reborn. I am your final death. She reached down into the baby’s body and drew out the dark soul of Wilson Pettisbridge. He clawed and scratched, but her body was impervious. Goodbye, Wilson. She exerted will, and the soul dissipated in a puff of energy. She wiped her hand on her dress. Peering into the ether, she noticed another soul drifting near, searching. She beckoned to it with a smile. Come to me, good soul. Life awaits you. A child here needs a soul. The nurses rushed into the maternity ward, panic on their faces. They raced to the side of the crib, checking the vital signs of the baby. Angela placed the lost soul into the baby, anchoring it. She smiled as the nurses drew breaths in relief, seeing the baby’s heart beating again.
Be blessed, child, she said, laying her hand on his forehead. His eyes were open, focused on her. May your life be full of happiness. May you be good to others, make many friends, and find a love of your own. May you have a family you love, and who loves you. She smiled, and turned to Galahad, who stood beside her. His arm went around her waist, and she leaned into him. But most of all, young man, may you believe in fairies. ***** The End of Silver Angel *****