“I have
never felt so humiliated.”
Didi Myers
walked into the lounge and tossed her purse unceremoniously onto a nearby
loveseat. “I completely blew my seduction of that whelp.”
The
Nosferatu at the piano plunked out a few notes before responding. “Your first
mistake is the word ‘whelp.’” He said quietly.
“I know
that now. A whole lot of good it does me, Caine.”
“You heard
what Monroe
“No novice
kindred can do what he did without help. Without patronage from an elder of
some kind.”
“And if
that patronage took the form of tutelage?” interjected Caine. “What if his
minders molded him and taught him to anticipate these sorts of political
maneuvers? He’s a Daeva and Lucy Bonneville’s grandchilde. Did that never enter
your calculus that he would see through an obvious attempt at seduction? Or did
it never enter your mind that he would not find you quite so appealing as his
other conquests?”
“I will not
be called ugly by a Nosferatu.”
Caine’s
appearance was typical of his clan. Human enough, but off somehow. In his case,
he had a Neanderthal-like skull and elongated (almost pointed) ears. Despite
the defiant insult, Caine’s tone remained neutral.
“And
there’s your problem. Arrogance. You failed to check your ego at the door, came
on with all the subtlety of a rampaging bull, and turned him off at the onset.
Tried to convince him you were the catch of the century when he could clearly
see that you were not. He may be Daeva and lust may be his weakness, but
vulgarity is not the strategy to use with this one. His lover has the body of a
child. How did she land him, do you suppose?”
“Sympathy.”
“And now
the epiphany comes but too late.” Said Caine. “Regulus will not be pleased that
you failed.”
“I cannot
return to him without his brother unavenged.”
“Since you
seem to lack the finer points of subtlety, why bother with seduction at all? We
can guess his next target. He’ll move east into Bala Cynwyd. You know whose
hunting grounds those are, I presume.”
“Alexandros
will not act without the Prince’s leave.”
“He will if
he thinks his turf is threatened. Go to him. I think you’ll find him easier to
persuade that Allens. Let us throw caution to the wind and break out the big
guns.”
“And if the
Sheriff fails?”
“Do you
truly think Walsh will merely stand by and allow Allens to kill an officer of
the court? No, either Alexandros will rid us of Michael Allens or Michael
Allens will call down a blood hunt upon himself. Either way, we win.”
---
Mitch
walked into the classroom and parked himself in the front row. The professor,
who could not have had a more British name than “Reginald Skelmsdale,” gave him
an odd look, but said nothing. He then began his lecture.
The subject
was Physics 101. The venue was Temple
University Newton
The clock
struck the hour after what seemed to be several and the class filed out. Mitch
stayed put. Dr. Skelmsdale began cleaning up his effects when he looked at
Mitch.
“You are
not one of my normal students.” He commented.
“No,” Mitch
replied. “But I heard on good authority you were the man to see about where to
find people with peculiar talents.”
“You mean
talents like this?” He reached out his hand. One of the billiard balls shot
away from the table of its own accord and landed neatly in the professor’s
hand.
“Yeah. Like
that.”
The professor
smiled. “Had you not been an awakened soul, it would have been much harder to
move the ball. Unbelief is always a barrier to be overcome. But I knew that old
Jedi trick would be easy in front of you. I sensed your power when I first saw
you. You’re James Mitchell, aren’t you?”
“My
reputation precedes me, I suppose.”
“More the
Consilium has very good diviners. We knew a new mage had come to the city and
we knew you’d soon seek us out. We were pleased about that. We’re always
worried when a new wizard comes to town or a new one awakens whether they will
align with us or with them.” He gave the last word an intimidating gravitas; no
need for Mitch to guess who he was referring to.
Skelmsdale
continued. “We were particularly worried about you. After all, we weren’t quite
certain what to think about the company you keep. Vampires are fascinating
creatures as are werewolves, but neither are terribly well known for playing
well with others.”
“This one
does.” Said Mitch confidently.
“If it
serves his purpose.” Added Skelmsdale with equal confidence.
“Well, one
of ‘them’ is now on the run from mortal authorities thanks to the mechanizations of my colleague. He’s done you a favor.” Replied Mitch. “And
yes, it served his purpose, but it also serves yours.”
Skelmsdale’s
look was ambivalent. “And I suppose you’ve now come to call in that favor.”
“I suppose
you could see it that way, but I’d much rather we acted in good faith rather
than in cynicism. I came to talk, to learn, and to offer what aid I might to you
and yours. Diplomacy. A fair exchange. We share a common enemy.”
“An enemy
your people have deliberately provoked.” Skelmsdale looked strict at first, but
then softened and laughed. “It’s long overdue. The Brotherhood is up to
something. Our diviners cannot discern what it is, but many of us are worried.
All, that is except the Hierarch. He is content to sit tight and do nothing.
Too content for many of us.”
Things
among the wizards must have been tense indeed for Skelmsdale to reveal that
secret so readily. He continued. “We have the advantage for the first time in
decades and we do not press the attack.”
“Worried
about the hunters?”
“I do not
know the Hierarch’s mind, but he’s afraid of something. The hunters? The
Brotherhood? The vampires taking advantage? Or the changelings? Who knows? But
Thaddeus Zao sits and waits.”
“Why not
take independent action?”
“That is
not our way and you know that. But outside forces may soon force our hand, as
you and yours are demonstrating. The Brotherhood is weak, far weaker than their
reputation claims. If we do not move soon, it will be your vampire friend who
benefits entirely from their demise. Why should we be denied part of the
prize?”
“Well, it
seems I’ve come to the right person at the right time.”
“There is a
protocol to follow. I can bring your offer of ‘diplomacy,’ as you put it, to
our leadership. However, until such time as they choose to respond, it may be
of benefit for you to join our ranks…on a probationary basis. Like an associate
member of our fellowship. It’ll give you a chance to get to know some of us and
we you. Surely that would make your diplomatic efforts easier.”
There was
logic in that, although Mitch sensed Skelmsdale had an ulterior motive in that.
It was a subtle offer of recruitment. Mitch, perhaps against his better
judgment, called him out for it. “Can a man serve two masters?”
Skelmsdale
smiled at the Biblical quotation and did not seem bothered in the least that
his recruitment attempt was made transparent. “To be a diplomat,” he replied. “one
must stand in the gap between two masters and try to bridge them together. You
are already there, Mr. Mitchell, always being pulled in two directions. You are
friends with this vampire and I do not begrudge you all the joys and benefits
of true friendship. But you are also a mage and will never truly be a part of
his world.”
Skelmsdale
fished into the inner pocket of his tweed jacket and brought out what looked
like a ticket. He handed it to Mitch. “A coupon.” He offered. “Perhaps you’d
like to see an exhibit or two at our fine science museum.”
Mitch
looked at the ticket. “Admit one. Daily
entry. Franklin Institute.”
---
Mitch found
himself an hour later in front of the Foucault pendulum in the center of the
Franklin Institute science museum. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was here, but
he suspected strongly that Skelmsdale had sent him here to meet someone; the
next step in getting to know the Consilium mages of Philadelphia
The
pendulum was impressive. In order for it to move in sync with the Earth’s
rotation, it had to be suspended from an extremely long cable. This one
measured the height of the ceiling in the Institute’s central dome all the way
down the basement one level below where Mitch was standing, a good 80 feet at
least.
“Fascinating,
isn’t it?” said the young man next to him.
Mitch had
not noticed his approach. He was young, perhaps 18 or 19, dark of hair and
well-built. His voice had an odd accent; definitely not American, but not quite
easily pinned down as British, Australian, or something else.
“I see
this,” he continued. “and I feel so confined. A world that always moves in the
exact same rhythm. Never changing. Never altering its course. Stuck. I suppose
for some there’s comfort in that consistency, but I’d prefer things to be
more…random. Do you know what I mean?”
“The
problem with the world, Martin dear,” said the voice of the young woman on
Mitch’s other side. “is that not it’s confined. It’s that it’s too small.
There’s so much more out there that we’ve just barely begun to discover.”
The young
woman was of medium height, with long rather plainly styled black hair. Her
horn-rimmed glasses looked more appropriate on a senior citizen. Like Martin,
she was about 18 or 19 years old. Mitch smiled; Her button down blouse could
barely contain a rather ample chest.
He stared
at those only briefly before meeting each of their eyes in turn. Their spiel
about the nature of the world was clearly rehearsed, full of innuendo that only
a mage would truly get. “So,” said Mitch. “You’re the reason I was told to come
here.”
“Martin Lovejoy.” Introduced the young man. “And this is my girlfriend, Anna. I am
secretary to the Hierarch Thaddeus Zao and she is secretary to the Sub-hierarch
Gretchen Mosley. Part of our jobs is to meet with new wizards and show them the
ropes. You are James Mitchell, correct?”
“Did
Skelmsdale tell you to expect me?”
“He did.”
Answered Anna
Mitch
nodded. He already knew to what they were referring, but decided that his
curiosity about the Dark Brotherhood could wait for now. It seemed there was a
protocol here to follow and Mitch contented himself to be carried along with
the currents for the time being.
That did
not mean, however, he was not curious about the protocol itself. “So what
happens now? What’s the next item on the agenda?”
Martin gestured disarmingly. “We enjoy the museum. We talk. We get to know one
another. Become friends.”
Mitch
looked at Anna again. She was not drop-dead gorgeous by any means, but certainly pretty
enough. Then, to his surprise, her already ample bosom seemed to inflate even larger.
The top button of her blouse shot free as the fabric became overstretched.
“Martin,
stop it!” she snapped. Martin began to laugh.
“Caught him
looking.” Said Martin with a smirk. So, Martin was a prankster. The phrase
Mitch settled on in his mind was “class clown.”
Anna snapped her fingers and her breasts returned to their normal size. “I should
never have taught you that spell.” Martin merely replied with a shit-eating
grin.
She was not
truly angry. Obviously, this was a game they played with one another and was
probably a way for them to establish to potential suitors that they belonged to
one another. Mitch got the message and made a mental note to keep things
platonic with the young woman. Making enemies here was not his mission.
“So, we
talk,” said Mitch. “and I would guess your girlfriend’s assets are off-limits
in terms of topic.” He added cheekily.
“Well, for
now…” said Martin. There was a playfulness to his whole demeanor, as if he
didn’t take much of anything in life very seriously. He was clearly obnoxious,
but charming enough to be difficult to dislike. Perhaps that was why Anna liked him.
“What then
instead?”
“Walk with
me.” Martin offered, his tone getting serious again. He began to walk away
from the pendulum towards one of the exhibit areas. As he did so, he continued
to speak. “Anna and I have only been mages for about six months now.”
“Newly
awakened and yet in positions of importance.” Mitch observed.
“Of a sort.
We were made ‘secretaries’ as a way of letting others know we have some value
to those in charge. The job is largely ceremonial. We get to run basic errands
for the head honchos during breaks in our studies. Any how, I grew up in New
York City. My parents were British diplomats at the UN, but I was born here,
grew up here, went to school here. I’m pretty much as American as they come.”
“Or so you’d like to believe.” Mitch
already sensed something else about his young companion. He was a mite insecure
about his identity. Class clowns usually were. Martin's origins also explained
the accent: Upper crust English with a fusion of Brooklyn.
“Straight A
student. Good enough for Ivy League. My parents really wanted me to go back to
England for my university studies, but I’d barely spent any time there. But if
I was going to an American school, they’d be damned if it wasn’t one of the
best. No state university for me. So I ended up at Penn.”
“The bottom
rung of the Ivy League.” Mitch teased disdainfully.
Martin frowned. There was a streak of snobbishness in him as well and now Mitch knew
he could pretty easily get a rise out of him. Yeah, definitely needed to take a
hands-off approach to Anna. Martin would be the type to hold a grudge. The
clown was artifice that concealed a rather immature and volatile young man.
“But you’re
not still there.” It was at this point that Mitch noticed Martin's attire: a
Temple University hoodie.
“No,
because midway through my elementary physics classes my professor put one of
those supposedly unsolvable equations on the blackboard and I had an epiphany.
The whole world seemed to suddenly explode into myriad possibilities and I was
brought to the watchtower.”
“You
awoke.”
“Right in
the middle of class. Must have been a sight to see to watch me wig out right
there. But they took notice.”
“The
Brotherhood?”
“I was
right under their nose. That campus is their home turf. It wasn’t five minutes
after class before three of them greeted me on the quad. Told me how I was
touched by the devil, that I had come to see the truly nature of reality, and
now I was to join with them…”
“And you
didn’t.”
“No. They
give this little spiel to every mage they encounter, newly awoken or not.
They’re looking for the psychopaths, the megalomaniacs, the people with no
scruples whatsoever. The sort that would make good Brotherhood material. It’s a
test and if you fail, they try to kill you.”
“You
against three seasoned infernalists?”
“I ran like
hell. Turns out the good guys had also detected my Awakening and sent some of
their own to find me. Turns out I was one of three the diviners had predicted
would awaken that very week, an unprecedented event. So they were ready. The
Consilium and the Brotherhood had a running battle over the campus of UPenn
that day and none of the Sleepers were any the wiser of it. One mage got killed
though, swallowed up by a mini black hole summoned by one nasty Brotherhood
Mastigos. Awful way to die. The most grotesque thing I’ve ever seen. But, in
the end, I got away. They saved me. That could have been me and it nearly was.”
Martin's tone of voice was now quite grim. It seemed out of character to his snobbish
clownish demeanor, but he was clearly haunted by what he’d seen. “It’s what
they do, James. Every last Brotherhood member is a serial killer or a wannabe.
They’re monsters. They are evil personified. People disappear all over the city
everyday and no one realizes it. With memory charms, bribes, and a whole host
of other strategies, the Brotherhood abducts and murders people constantly and
no one is the wiser. No one except us.”
“I have
powerful friends.” Intimated Mitch.
“We know.
We could use them.” Martin's look remained haunted. “If someone doesn’t stop
these people, the murders will continue. As they’ve been continuing since the
earliest days of the city.”
“Skelmsdale
admitted the Hierarch is hesitant to act.”
“That’s
because the Brotherhood has always been unassailable. Many of their wizards are
over a century old, their lifespans extended by magical means. They’re stronger
than we are. We have the numbers, but they have strength and magical power and
influence far beyond us. We need allies.”
“I can make
no promises. This isn’t really our war.”
“Except
that it just might be.” Said Anna, speaking up for the first time in several
minutes. “We don’t have proof yet, but we believe someone among the vampires
has made common cause with the Brotherhood. An alliance. They’re up to
something. And if the Brotherhood is involved, it isn’t good news for any of
us. Your friends included.”
---
Boar dashed
through the low brush, enjoying the feel of damp fall leaves on the pads of his
paws. He was relishing this. He did not get out into wild places nearly enough
anymore. Like dogs, cats, and various other animals, werewolves had learned to
live in the environments of humankind, but were never truly comfortable there.
Here, in the woods, amidst trees and ferns, with the chattering of small
animals and birds around him, he was truly at home.
He’d chosen
to seek out the werewolves of Philadelphia as wolf rather than a man. It seemed
more natural, more appropriate. The enhanced sense of smell that came with it
helped as well. He’d caught a scent. A female and she was in heat.
That was
trouble. He’d caved to that temptation before and it had gotten he loved
killed. But he knew this was no dog or stray wild wolf. It was one of his own
kind. Perhaps stalking from afar a potential human mate.
Boar slowed
his pace and began stalking. If his quarry was prowling after a human, he
didn’t want to startle either of them and create problems. Ghost wolves like
himself were often mistaken for feral stray dogs; too lean and scraggly to look
like a proper wolf to most humans. But still, a nosy Animal Control Officer,
called out by a spooked human, could ruin everyone’s day.
Sure
enough, he scented proof that his guess was right. A smelly sweaty human male.
Probably a runner, enjoying a jog through Fairmount Park. The female werewolf
was keeping pace, just out of sight. Was she planning to make a move today?
Damn, if so. Boar hated the idea of ruining such an encounter. Wouldn’t do well
for him to make friends if he fouled someone’s attempt at a good first
impression with a potential mate.
The human
kept going, oblivious to the two werewolves stealthily stalking just beyond his
sight. The female however stopped. He heard a low plaintive howl, barely
audible over the ambient noise of the forest. It was a sound of longing. This
werewolf wanted this human bad, but Boar guessed she didn’t know what to do to
win him.
“Unrequited love sucks.” He thought, but
now he had his opening. He drew closer, now heedless of trying to keep quiet.
The other werewolf heard his approach.
They
encountered one another in a tiny clearing in the woods, perhaps 2 meters tops
in diameter. The female growled a warning at him, but Boar chose a submissive
stance. Seeing him back down, the female drew closer, sniffing like a dog at
his nethers. Satisfied with whatever she learned, she drew up alongside him.
With a quick gesture, she motioned for him to follow.
Boar had
been a werewolf now for many years and yet it still astounded him how much he
or any of his kind could communicate through body language and scent. Without a
single word of human language, the female had sensed his intentions and had
chosen to trust him enough to lead him to the rest of her pack. He loved the
honesty this enforced, such a far cry from the world of vampires and mages he
usually occupied.
The female
lead him to a small, but substantial, campsite. It looked like the ramshackle
temporary shelters the homeless often set up in city parks. A handful of cars
loaded with every possession they could fill ringed the outside. A small
campfire marked the center. Near the campfire, several humans were cooking
breakfast: bacon, eggs, even some oatmeal. It smelled wonderful.
The female
emerged and shifted into an attractive blond girl in her late teens.
“So,
Janice, did you fuck him this time?” growled one of the humans, a Latino male.
His tone was bullying, not playful.
“Fuck you,
Cortez.” Said Janice; her anger was genuine, but she didn’t let it distract
her. “Found a stray though.”
Boar
emerged and shifted into his human form. “A ghost.” Said Cortez. “You’re not
from around here, amigo. New to the city, I take?”
“I’m Mike
Boorman. Most of my friends just call me Boar.”
“I’m Cortez
Molina, alpha of our little pack here. The chica is Janice Miller. She’s got it
bad for some blond Chestnut Hill student.” His voice reminded Boar greatly of
Cheech Marin.
“Would you
leave my love life or lack thereof out of this?”
“You’re not
going to catch him as a wolf. Not if you don’t plan to eat him.” Cortez
suggested.
The tension
in the air grew thick. Janice was clearly sensitive about her lack of progress
with her intended paramour and Cortez was doing everything in his power to goad
her about it. Boar stood by his first impression of the pack alpha: he was a
bully. Charm, however, might diffuse the situation.
“A pretty
girl like you shouldn’t have to hide in the bushes from a guy she likes.”
“You’re not
helping.” Janice turned her anger on Boar.
“I’m also
being serious.” He said firmly. “A young lady as cute as you…”
“Don’t
patronize me. You’re as bad as he is and, unlike him, you’re not my alpha.”
That was a threat.
“He’s not
patronizing you, Janice dear.” Said a woman’s voice. One of the other humans
cooking around the fire stood up. Boar got a good look at her and his heart
jumped.
The woman
was drop-dead gorgeous, dark of skin and hair. At first, Boar thought her a
Latino like Cortez, but no…the voice wasn’t right. The accent didn’t fit. Less
Latin and more something else. Then it hit him: Romani. She was a Gypsy.
“You too,
Natasha?” said Janice back to the woman. “Look at me. My clothes are torn. I
haven’t bathed in days. I look pathetic. I dropped out of school and ran away
from home. Never finished high school. No student at a high class college like
that is going to give me the time of day.”
“You’re not
giving him a chance.” Natasha said.
“The
clothing and bathing can be remedied easily enough.” Boar offered. “As for your
history, that’s not even remotely a hindrance to getting him into bed with you.
You’re in heat. I could smell that in the woods. One fuck and you’ll feel
better. That’s not as hard to get as you think, even from your student friend.”
“You don’t
know me and you don’t know what I want. Stay out of this.”
Boar now
saw the problem. Janice was beyond infatuation with this guy; she was convinced
she was genuinely in love with him. A quick one-night-stand to relieve the
demands of her biology was easy enough, but lasting relationships between
werewolves and humans were far harder to manage.
Boar put up
his hands in a sign of surrender. “Look. I’m the new guy. I get that. I here
looking for a pack and maybe one way I can win you guys over is to be a help.
You want to fuck this guy? Marry him? You’re right. It’s your business, but for
any of that to happen you’re going to have to talk to him eventually and if you
worried about your appearance getting in the way…” He reached into his back
pocket and fished out his wallet. He reached in and pulled out a couple of Benjamins.
“Would this help?”
Janice
looked at the proffered money hesitantly. Natasha then snatched it from Boar’s
hand, doing little in that act to disprove her ethnicity’s larcenous reputation.
“Yes, it would.” She said. She grabbed Janice by the arm and pulled her away.
Cortez
looked impressed. “You’re a half-moon, aren’t you?”
“Is it
obvious?”
Cortez
chuckled. “Pretty much. You try to make everyone get along. The diplomat. The
negotiator. Truth is we could use somebody like you. We got a tough job here
and things are tense.”
“So why are
you out here?”
“Welcome to
the front lines, man. A few miles south is the motherlode, a whole slew of
uratha holy sites, places where the barrier between this world and the spirit
realm as paper thin. And those damned Abbey hunters sit on the top of all of
them.”
“And you
don’t go on the offensive for what reason?”
“The
Ashwood Abbey have powerful friends. Richest fucks in all the city. Bored
assholes who think it good sport to hunt werewolves and whatever else they can
find. They don’t go after wizards though. They’re in bed with them.”
“The
Brotherhood?”
“Yeah, I
hear they call themselves that. Devil-worshiping pricks. Combined, they’re all
too strong for us. We Philly uratha are all scattered and divided. Look at me,
I’m a pack alpha. How pathetic is that?”
“And yet
you’re here right under the enemy’s nose. That takes guts. Courage.”
“Only
because all the safer places are taken by stronger packs or nastier creatures
like vampires and fae-touched. We get the scraps.” He paused to take some bacon
and eggs off the cook stove. “Here.” He offered Boar a plate. “Have some
breakfast.”
Boar took
the offer. Cortez turned off the stove, made himself a plate of food, and moved
to sit by the fire. Boar sat down across from him. “Pressure’s killing us.”
Cortez offered. “Janice thinks her little romance is her ticket out of here.
She young, newly changed. Doesn’t know how hard it gets for our kind.”
“And Natasha?”
“Kintouched.
Human. Helps out around the camp. Got some friends in the police so they leave
us alone. One small benefit.”
Boar
decided not to dwell overmuch on how a Gypsy woman made “friends” in law
enforcement. “She yours?” Boar asked bluntly.
“From time
to time. Helps take the edge off.” Cortez then seemed to sense the intent
behind Boar’s question. “You want her, don’t you?”
“Do you
blame me?”
“Nah, she’s
a hottie. I don’t think she’d mind trading up.”
“I get the
feeling the whole pack wouldn’t mind, as you put it, trading up. You included.”
“You think
I want to be alpha? In this…” Cortez didn’t get to finish his sentence before a
nearby tree splintered and exploded, followed a half second later by a gunshot
report.
“Damn.
They’ve found us.” Said Cortez. He came to his feet quickly, dumping his
breakfast onto the dirt. He shifted to wolf-man form. Boar did likewise.
At the edge
of the clearing came a half dozen or so men and women on foot, all armed with
high powered military grade rifles. Boar recognized several M-16s. The gun that
had shattered the tree was a large sniper rifle, probably some form of Barrett,
held in the hands of an equally large man.
“Get the
kinfolk and newly changed out of here. The warriors will hold them off.” Barked
Cortez to Boar. Boar bolted in the direction he’d last seen Natasha and Janice
go.
The two
women were huddled behind one of the station wagons, not much cover against
weapons of that power. Janice had shifted fully into wolf form; she looked
small and timid pressed up against Natasha. “Come on.” Boar ordered. “We need
to get you out of here.”
Boar could
see the pack’s three warriors. They had made for the tree line and were trying
to flank the hunters. A good tactic, but dangerous. It was clear they were
trying to draw the hunters’ fire away from the camp, but Boar had little doubt
that at least one, if not all, those guns were loaded with silver bullets. One
good hit and it would over for that werewolf.
He got
Natasha in the car and shoved wolf-Janice into the back seat. Two other
kinfolk, both children, piled in with Janice. “Go!” Boar barked as the station
wagon pealed out. Two other vehicles joined them as they abandoned this camp.
Only one remained, an old beat up GMC pick up truck not all that different than
the one Michael used to drive. That would be for the warriors to escape, no
doubt, once all the others were away. But Boar doubted that hunting party was
eager to leave without at least one pelt for their trouble.
Boar let
the wolf within him take over fully, shifting into the vicious man-wolf form
known as gauru in their language. He
tore across the camp and the clearing, heedless of the danger. The hunters, who
had turned their attentions to the flanking warriors, missed seeing him until
he was right on top of them. Whatever immunity they had to werewolf Lunacy
vanished when Boar charged into the lot of them, a whirlwind of tooth, claw,
and muscle. He eviscerated two and the rest fled like the devil himself was on
their tail.
With the
danger passed, Boar shifted back to human. Exhaustion took over, as it always
did when a werewolf took that form, and he crumpled to his knees. Cortez and
one of his warriors took him by the arms and brought him back to his feet.
“That was
fucking awesome.” Said Cortez. “They totally did not see you coming.”
“If they
had, you’d be dead.” Said the other dismissively.
“Often,”
Boar said, trying to catch his breath, “victory is won by taking great risk.
It’s one thing to fight, but if you want to win, you’ve got to stick your neck
out from time to time.”
Cortez
looked at Boar and nodded. “You said you wanted a pack. You said you figured
helping would win you one. Well, you’ve convinced me. Keep kicking those Abbey
fuckers asses like that and you can be my alpha any day.”
“Is that a
formal offer?”
“You want
to fight me for it? I yield.” Said Cortez quickly.
Boar was
ambivalent. “Now that’s diplomacy!” he
thought. “I came here to make contact and
I end up winning the whole pack. Too bad it’s full of cowards and children.
Still, it’s a start.”
---
Mitch made
his way across Temple’s campus quickly. The rumbling storm clouds above
portended a coming storm and he really wasn’t interested in getting drenched.
It had been
nearly a week since Mitch had met Professor Skelmsdale, Martin, and Anna.
After their conversation about politics and the future of the Consilium,
Martin waxed further on his personal background. Turns out, somewhat to
Mitch’s consternation, he was Acanthus, the same “path” as Mitch; a manipulator
of probability and the flow of time.
That meant
two things, one bad and one good. It meant he was going to have to spend a lot
of time with the pseudo-British prankster. That was bad. The good part however
was that Martin could then arrange an introduction to the Consilium’s Acanthus
master and Mitch would get the chance to learn some new magic. It had been a
while since he’d managed that. He’d learned a few new tricks, all self-taught,
over the past several years, but to learn from another mage could expand his
repertoire ten-fold in a matter of weeks and months.
The
Acanthus master was a mage with the grandiose name of Balthazar Murray and like
the equally impressively named Skelmsdale was a professor at Temple. He was an
adjunct however, doing most of his formal teaching as a tenured professor of
Physics at Chestnut Hill College. Today was one of his days to be on Temple’s
campus and Mitch took advantage.
Of course,
that meant learning alongside Martin, but he could tolerate the boorish clown
if he must in order to unlock a few more secrets of the universe.
But now,
class was over and Mitch was ready to head back to Conshohocken. Just as he
turned a corner to head towards his car, he heard his name called out. He
stopped his pace and turned.
It was Anna,
accompanied by an attractive green-haired Goth girl that Mitch had not seen
before. They drew closer.
“Hi,
Anna.” Said Mitch somewhat stiffly.
“Mitch,
what are you doing here?”
“Professor
Murray.” He answered.
“Ah,” said
Anna, understanding his meaning. “Say, this is my roommate Trisha Buckley.”
Mitch shook
her hand. “James Mitchell, but my friends just call me Mitch.”
“Pleased to
meet you. Hey, Anna, I’ll see you later.” Trisha gave Anna a quick wave and
then took off towards a nearby building.
“She’s
cute.”
“She’s
available.”
“Are you
just being friendly or are you worried about the implications of my being ‘caught
looking’ at the museum?”
“A little
of both, I suppose.”
“You could
do better.” Mitch admitted impulsively.
“You may
not like him, Mr. Mitchell,” Anna replied formally, “but you are a lot like
him. Maybe not quite the snob, but you definitely have the whole devil-may-care
attitude that he does.”
“Maybe
that’s why I don’t like him.” Mitch grumbled with some self-awareness. He waved
off the subject with some annoyance. “I also wasn’t too fond of the way he
wouldn’t let you get a word in edgewise the other day. Seemed rude to treat
your girl that way.”
“He was
nervous.” Admitted Anna. “And when he’s nervous he talks too much. You
intimidate the hell out of him, you know.”
“Me?” said
Mitch incredulously.
“Yes. Has
Professor Murray told you who his teacher was?”
“No.”
“That’s a
little surprising, because he told Martin. Anyway, he’s the head diviner, if
you didn’t already know, and the one who sensed you would be coming. He told
Martin a great mage was coming to join us here. One who rescued his own master
from a powerful lich.”
“Murray
studied under Stanley Duncan at UVA?”
“One of his
first students.” Said Anna. “Murray knew you were the one who had saved his
mentor and he told Martin as much as he knew about you. Martin is terrified
of you. He tries to hide it behind snobbery and practical jokes. Terrified that
you’ll become Professor Murray’s new favorite and terrified that you’ll become
mine.” Anna paused. “Meeting your hero’s hero is always scary.”
“I never
knew I was such an icon. I’m just a mage. I don’t even know that many spells. I
just have good friends. Powerful friends.”
“Vampires.
Werewolves. Most of us never even meet such creatures, let alone befriend
them.”
“So, you
know my story and we all heard about Martin's. So what’s yours?” Mitch paused
to look up at the sky again. It looked just as ominous as before. “Maybe we
should get inside before you answer that.”
“No
worries. The spirit of this storm has already told me it will not rain upon the
city today.”
“You’re a
Thyrsus then?”
“Yes. That
is my path, a spirit-talker and healer.” She began to walk over to a grassy
plot. “My origins are in California.” She said, sitting down. “San Diego. Like
Martin, I was an ace student.”
Mitch sat
down next to her to listen. Anna then reclined on the grass to look up at the
sky. “Senior year of high school, my folks were killed in a car accident. I
grew up in an atheist household, but losing them so suddenly and so
unexpectedly threw my whole worldview into chaos. My first encounter I guess
with mortality.”
“Everyone
finds such experiences traumatic.” Mitch offered. “Doesn’t matter what you
believed before or didn’t believe…”
“Well, my
crisis of faith, such as it was, seemed to trigger what I can only describe as
a partial awakening. I didn’t go to my watchtower, but something was different
about me. Just this gnawing feeling. I had to get away. So I dropped out of school
and ran away from home. Just vanished for all intents and purposes off the face
of the earth.
“I had one
of those old VW hippie vans and I just started driving. I picked up a few
others in San Fran. Two girls. I called them the “Jays,” Julia and Janet. Two
15 year old lesbians who got kicked out of their homes for being gay. I drove
and they made out in the back of the van most days. Also, picked up this guy
Will a week or so later. Another runaway in Sacramento.
“The three
of us trekked out east. The Jays discovered they weren’t completely lesbian
after all when each of them in turn slept with Will and then the three of them
all together. We were one big orgy bus.”
“And you?”
Mitch inquired, his lustful curiosity piqued.
“I was the
old lady, the 18 year old, who’d seen death. I was all Goth and dark and
intimidating to Will. He never touched me and I don’t swing the way the Jays
did. So, no. I got to chaperone it all, but never participated. I didn’t much
care. I just wanted to get away from whatever I was trying to get away from. I
didn’t mind that I wasn’t getting laid along the way.”
“Will left
us somewhere in Nevada. Guess he had his fill of the Jays and wanted something
else. The rest of us moved on into Wyoming. That’s like the most desolate place
in the world. Almost nobody lives there. We stopped one night in this little
town on top of a mountain. Had a small airport and a McDonalds and not much
else. We were bored, so we took a walk up this country road. It got dark and we
got lost. Saw a light across a field and we headed towards it.
“Turns out
there was something funny about that field. My half-awakening acted like a
blaring klaxon to the restless spirits that lived there. Apparently it was the
site of some Indian massacre back in the Old West days. The ghosts all
manifested at once, surrounded us. They jumped the Jays. One tore Janet to
pieces, limb from limb. Another slammed Julia’s head against a rock so many
times it just burst like an overripe melon. I ran. I ran like hell. I tripped
and fell and finally had my full watchtower vision. I was awoke fully.
“When I
came out of it, the ghosts were gone. I got to the trailer where we saw the
light. The redneck who lived there saw the whole thing and was surprised I’d
lived through it. We got in his truck and drove the fuck out of there as fast
as we could.
“He told me
after we got away that there was always something strange about that field,
that he never felt right setting foot on it. That’s how I learned the history
of it, from him. He also said those ghosts were going to come after me.
“I’d had
the shock of my life. So when I got back to my van I just drove and drove. Now
I knew what I was running from. I got all the way to Philadelphia. Got off the
highway and went looking for a gas station. Van died on UPenn’s campus and
apparently the Brotherhood’s got some kind of spell to detect when a mage steps
into their territory. They came to me, gave me the whole devil-spiel like they
did Martin. Turns out I was third of those mages Professor Murray had
predicted would emerge that week. Thaddeus Zao himself showed up about a minute
later. Those DB shitstains were not about to challenge the Hierarch, so they
ran and I got safely to the Consilium.
“A few
spells later and I was a student at Temple and secretly learning spirit magic
from the Hierarch himself. I met Martin, heard his story, and because we were
together all the time as the two new novices, it just sort of fell into dating
one another. Six months later, here we are.”
Mitch
opened his mouth to say something in response, but he wasn’t quite sure how to
respond to her tale. Anna interrupted him before he could. “I know Martin and
I don’t have the most conventional relationship, but I do love him. He takes my
mind off the horrible things I’ve seen.”
“Alright,”
interjected Mitch. “I’m usually one who likes to keep his options open, but
both of you seem convinced that I’m here to ruin your romance. You’re cute,
I’ll give you that, but I don’t think I really want to mess with this bond you
have between you.”
“I know
you’re tempted, Mitch. I see the way you look at me.”
“I look at
all good-looking women that way. You noticed me with Trisha, didn’t you?”
“The
temptation is mutual.” Said Anna abruptly. “Martin's not entirely out of line
in being afraid of what might happen between us. He’s not the easiest person to
get along with, as you’ve already noticed.”
Mitch was
confused. “So what are you saying? Are you wanting to cheat on him? Or are
you…”
“I don’t
know. That’s what I’m saying.”
“So you
want me to decide for you.” Said Mitch. He paused thoughtfully for a while. “No,
I won’t do that. Not my circus. Not my monkeys. I got between another friend
and his woman recently and I’ve had nothing but trouble since. I’m not about to
make that mistake again. But I will, however, take Trisha’s phone number if you
have it.”
Anna frowned, but after a brief pause, started digging for her phone.
---
Michael sat
at his computer and typed. Sarah was out with the Wicca coven again tonight.
Boar and Mitch were with their respective peoples (all evidence seemed to point
to their having great success in gaining friends and allies among the mages and
werewolves.) Michael was once again alone, save for Julia, who was watching TV
in the living room.
Having read
several paperback novels already, Michael had decided to sit down and give some
old abandoned manuscripts some work. During his years in Blacksburg, he’d
largely neglected the two great hobbies he’d come to embrace in his first years
as a vampire: his music and his writing. Now that he was neither consumed with
the hands-on business of political ambition (for the moment anyway) nor lost in
libertine excess, he found he had some time and energy to dedicate to them
again.
The story
he was working on dealt with an intriguing theological question he’d come up
with some time ago. What if a group of space travelers stumbled onto an alien
planet where the aliens worshipped all the same religions and deities as did
the people of Earth? What would that mean? How would the fundamentalists and
extremists of the religions on both planets react? How would the atheists and
the extremists within that movement respond? Michael was trying to weave these
ideas into a new story, better than the one he’d started to write years ago.
But he was having trouble. He was both out of practice and stuck in an
interesting spot: He had a great setting and concept, but no plot that worked
within them to bring his vision to life.
A knock
came at the front door. Michael did not get up, but waited for Julia to answer
whoever it might be. He heard an exchange of voices, both women. Whoever had
come to visit was female. Michael focused on his story.
Julia poked
her head into his office. “Kathleen is here to see you. I’ve got her waiting at
the door, just in case she’s not…” Julia pointed at her own head, implying that
Ernie might be riding shotgun.
“I’ll deal
with it.” Michael stood up and walked out to the front of the apartment.
Michael
came through the kitchen to where Kathleen was standing at the threshold. His
jaw dropped in astonishment.
The first
thing was different was her hair. It was nicely styled and highlighted. It
looked soft and beautiful, not straggly and straw-like as it always had before.
It was gathered nicely to one side, instead of just hanging long and loose.
Kathleen’s
face was brighter; was she wearing makeup? Michael had never seen that. Gone
also were the frumpy unflattering clothes. In their place was a very nice dress
that actually accentuated the shape of her body. She looked like a completely
new person. The lost soul had vanished, replaced by a very pretty young woman.
Kathleen
offered a weak smile as she saw Michael looking her over. “What do you think?”
she asked.
“I think
the beautiful person that you are is starting to emerge.” Complimented Michael.
She smiled
nervously again. “Thanks. I was hoping you’d like it.”
“Why are
you here? Is it just to show off?” Michael kept a critical eye on her, to see
if there was any indication of Ernie’s presence. If he was inside her, he was a
far better actor than Michael imagined. To all appearances, this was truly Kathleen.
“Well, I
did want to show off.” She answered sheepishly.
“Whose idea
was the makeover?” Michael asked, driving right to the point.
“I wanted
you to like me.” She replied without answering his question. Ernie, Michael
concluded, was likely behind the new look.
“I do like
you.” Offered Michael. “I liked you before all this.”
“But you
went back to her.” Kathleen pleaded. “You didn’t like me that much.”
Michael
frowned. He saw where this was going and he now considered it quite probable
that Ernie was calling the shots for Kathleen somehow, even if his presence
wasn’t easily apparent.
“Stop doing
this to her, Ernie. She’s her own person and you should let her be such.”
Michael growled at Kathleen, wondering what sort of reply he’d receive.
“Ernie’s
not behind this.” Kathleen answered, shaking her head. If it was a lie, it was
a convincing one. “This is me. This is the person you…” She hesitated, looking
for a comfortable means to describe her next thought. “…took to your bed and
showed her that there was someone beautiful in me, someone desirable, someone…”
“All those
things are true.” Said Michael delicately. If this was truly Kathleen, he knew
he was on thin ice with her fragile self-worth. “You are beautiful. You are
desirable. But those things are true regardless of anything and everything. It
doesn’t matter whether you’re with me or if you’re with someone else or if
you’re by yourself.” He hesitated himself, trying to find the right words to
affirm her. “You don’t need me to constantly prove it to you. You just need to
believe it.”
“You make
me believe it.” She pleaded. Her eyes were watery, with a look of desperation
to them.
“Kathleen,
I…”
“I love
you, Michael.” She blurted out urgently.
“No,”
Michael answered. “No, you don’t. You think you do, but, Kathleen, you barely
know me. I barely know you.”
“We could
change all that. Spend time together. Talk…make love…all that.”
“And none
of that would change the fact that I’m in love with Sarah Cobbler.” Said
Michael bluntly. “She is the one I want to be with.” He softened. “Look, we had
one wonderful magical night together. It was great. It was fun. It showed you a
side of yourself that you didn’t realize was even there. Cherish the memory of
that and try to learn the lesson I sought to teach you. But don’t read more
into it than what is there. There is no us. I belong to Sarah. I love her. Not
you.”
Michael
half expected to see Kathleen burst into tears at that admission and it was
obvious the temptation was there for her. But she just barely held her
composure together.
“I will
find a way to change that. I will make you mine somehow.” She declared
forcefully. Having said that, she gave into her pain, let out a hysterical sob,
and flew out the door as fast as she could manage.
Michael
closed the door softly and turned around. Julia was still there; she had
witnessed the whole exchange. He looked at her and she looked at him.
“I suppose,”
she said after a long moment. “all that applies to me as well.”
“Julia,”
Michael replied sympathetically. “If I could release you from your bond, I
would. There’s no us either. Not anymore.” He walked over to her and took hold
of her gently by the arms. “Look, when all this is over and we’re all back from
our various tasks and missions, you have my blessing, even my encouragement, to
go find someone else. Be with them. Love them. Be loved by them. Find some
measure of happiness with them.”
“Who would
you prefer I be with?”
“Damn that bond,” Michael growled to
himself. Again, he reminded himself that the alternative with her would have
been death. Even now though, as he did everything he could to set her free, it still
held her to him.
“Anyone.”
He answered. “Boar, Mitch, any of them.”
“Solomon?”
she offered.
“If you can
manage it, yes. I’d trust him to take good care of you, just as I trusted
Corwin to take care of the harem girls I left behind. He’s a fine choice.”
“I will
try.” She smiled. “Thanks.”
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