by Jane Cousins
The lighting fixtures were protected by makeshift wire baskets. Erik hadn’t been able to do anything to protect the glass windows that encircled the lower half of the dome, but he’d been assured after last year’s lightning bolt incident that the glass had been be-spelled and was now unbreakable. And self-cleaning, bonus.
Surveying the all but bare domed room, only one long rectangular table remaining in the centre, surrounded by several chairs. “Have I missed anything?” Erik’s voice echoed as he collapsed the ladder and stored it out of the way in the Children’s Wing.
“Have you thought about padding the marble columns?” Cullen was joking, but Erik took the question seriously.
“No time.”
“Then I think you are done.”
Erik nodded and glanced at his watch. “You can come in now.” He pitched his voice towards the archway leading to the Magical Mojo Wing, smiling as his meld mate stepped into the room cautiously. Cara was looking all kinds of gorgeous, buttoned up today in a dark grey skirt, blue short-sleeved blouse and grey ankle boots. His meld mate had subdued her glorious mane of red gold hair back into an intricate plait. Her sparkling blue eyes, behind the frames of her glasses, darting in every direction.
“Are you sure it’s safe?”
“It’s all good.” Erik assured, holding his hand out. Heat ramping up in his eyes as Cara rushed to his side, grabbing his hand.
“And you’re staying for the meeting?”
“I said I would. And look, Cullen will be here too. Lots of moral support.”
Cara blinked, looking at Cullen in surprise. “Sorry you’ve been roped into this.”
“I’m happy to be of assistance.” Cullen assured, meaning every word as Patricia Bennett strode through the archway leading from reception. His senses instantly thrumming. All morning he’d been expecting her to storm into Research and bring him to task for the changes he’d made to the system. But no, all he’d gotten instead was an electronic invitation to the planning session regarding the meet and greet between Apep, the God of Chaos, and Cara Devigne, the current Chaos Focus and his descendant.
Since he’d heard that this particular special project was Patricia’s personal responsibility, Cullen couldn’t immediately imagine any down side to him getting to spend more time with her. That was until the hulking great warrior, wearing only dark tight breeches, knee high boots and a sword strapped to his back, stepped into the dome room, closely on Patricia’s heels.
Instantly Cullen’s magic switched into hyper alert mode. The warrior was six-foot-six. No scars. A tattoo of a stylised sun over his heart. Strengths? Clearly well trained from the way he moved, the way he assessed his surroundings. He’d have a long reach, stamina, brute strength.
Attack options? Get inside his reach, take the sword out of the equation. Punching into all that solid muscle would be futile. And that thickly corded neck was well protected, so the chain on his pocket watch would be useless. Kick to the groin. Something sharp, straight to the heart. No choice but to kill rather than disable. Warriors made terrible prisoners.
Shifting his focus Cullen was at odds today regarding what he admired more. The bright glimmer of scheming intelligence glittering in Patricia’s hazel eyes, as she halted beside the group gathered around the only table left in the room. Or the way the coffee tapered trousers and fitted gold top highlighted her curves and lithe frame.
“Afternoon. Zartel. This is Cara, her meld mate, Erik, and Cullen, who I’ve assigned to this project to assist me. Shall we get started?” She indicated the chairs. Inwardly breathing a sigh of relief. Everything was locked down, everything was calm. Nothing here to get Cara overly nervous, just five people sitting down for a quick chat in a location Cara felt comfortable and safe. No surprises. No pressure. Perfect, just how she requested it be set up.
“Wait. Apep’s High Priest and Prime Advisor must be present.” Zartel thumped the sun tattoo located over his left pec with two fingers. It must have been some means of supernatural communication, as three seconds later a blast of music ripped through the room. A cacophony of trumpets and harps. Jarring and yet lovely at the same time.
Around them the heavy brass pots that had been secured to the wall fell back into place. No longer brass but gleaming gold. Instantly sprouting a mixture of abundant unfamiliar purple and black cascading flowers. Heady perfume scenting the air.
Patricia was unsure whether it was an optical illusion but it seemed as if all the walls in the domed room had moved back sixty feet. And they appeared to shimmer, no, wait, it looked like a funnel had been carved into them at about chest level, full of a gleaming black liquid, that spilled down some decorative steps, allowing the liquid to fill a three foot channel that now divided the room.
Everyone but Zartel and Cullen jumped as the black gleaming water caught fire. Not water, Patricia could detect the smell of oil beneath the unfamiliar flowery scents. Six large gold tapestries unfurled, hanging mysteriously in mid-air. Depicting what Patricia could only assume was Apep performing great and Godly acts. Why he had to be naked in all of the scenes was a complete mystery to her.
Bloody hell.
Her gaze snapped to the right as two men appeared out of thin air. One was bald and fat. His skin glimmering golden. His eyes black. A smile on his face. He wore a red robe, gathered on one beefy shoulder with a gold clip depicting a raven gripping a rabbit in its claws. The other man was thin, his black hair slicked to his skull. His eyes navy, his skin a dark coffee. He wore blue robes that were belted at the waist.
A battalion of half naked men also appeared. Stationed around the perimeter of the room. Gripping large gleaming scimitars that reflected the flickering flame encircling them. Their heads obscured by what Patricia assumed at first were theatrical masks and quickly realised were in fact real. Men with dog heads. Extraordinary. Any other time Patricia would have been chomping at the bit to take a closer look, however she had more important, potentially catastrophic things to focus on. Gaze shifting immediately to Cara, who had paled dramatically and was holding onto her meld mate for all she was worth.
Shit. So much for a creating a calm, quiet, safe place for Cara. This was so not good.
Zartel waved a muscular arm in the direction of the two robed men. “This is Faleph, Prime Advisor to Apep.” The skinny robed man in blue with the slicked back hair bowed his head ever so slightly in acknowledgement. “And this is Athaltho, High Priest.” The fat man’s smile widened even more as he surveyed their small group.
Cullen wasn’t a fan of hulking Zartel and the way the giant lug hovered so closely to Patricia. He was even less impressed with the two newcomers. Both their gazes had flickered over Patricia with unsettling speculative interest before coming to rest on Cara.
Zartel continued with his introductions. “This is the descendant, Cara, and her meld mate, Erik. And this is Patricia Bennett, Head of this centre of knowledge.”
Cullen wasn’t surprised to find himself ignored, but that was okay with him. Nor was he surprised to observe Erik shooting Apep’s representatives death looks. Melds were notoriously protective of their mates. And any idiot with five minutes to spare to glance over the history of what it meant to be a Chaos Focus knew that the last thing you ever did was surprise them or take them out of their comfort zone. Only chaos led down that path.
“Why don’t we all take a seat.” Patricia inserted, eager to get this meeting over and done with. She sent Cara a reassuring smile of support. The sooner they could get this over with the more likely it was that her Library would be put back to normal and there would be no need to call for any of the emergency services. Fingers crossed. “Let’s address the venue first, shall we? I think we can all agree that it should take place on the earthly plane, in fact, I was thinking-”
A humungous red banner suddenly unfurled in mid-air next to the table. “We will concede to the earthly plane, these are acceptable venues worthy of the God Apep’s august presence.” Zartel’s deep voice echoed around th
e now magically cavernous chamber.
“Um… er?” Cara was staring at the list clearly confused, as was Erik.
Only Cullen and Patricia weren’t stumped by the ancient Aramaic script.
“The Hanging Gardens of Babylon no longer exist.” Cullen couldn’t help but point out. The first line on the large banner immediately burst into flames, leaving nothing but a scorch mark.
“Atlantis is also out.” Patricia observed, trying to get visitor visas was too nightmarish to contemplate. Another flare of flame, another blackened line.
“And I don’t think the Royals would appreciate you taking over Buckingham Palace, not with the christening approaching fast.” Another scorched line immediately followed Cullen’s words.
“And I wouldn’t go near the Whitehouse on a bad bet at the moment.” Patricia contributed.
“Wait.” Cara took a deep breath. “The Gardens of Babylon? Buckingham Palace? I thought… I thought Apep and I could just grab a quick coffee at the Marina.” Cara’s breathing sped up as three clearly appalled gazes settled on her. “Or… a drink… an alcoholic beverage at the Five Alarm Bar.”
“Coffee? A drink?” Athaltho’s smile never wavered but it looked very forced now.
“There will be a banquet.” Faleph asserted. “No less than eighteen courses.”
“And entertainment.” Zartel gruffly announced. “Dancing girls. Displays of virility. Wrestling bears. Fire-eaters.”
Only those residents of the Sanctuary appeared to hear Cara’s small eek of dismay and note that the thin river of fire flowing down the centre of the room was sparking and flaring suddenly. Large frothy bubbles popping across the surface, tiny droplets of fire splashing onto the tiled mosaic and thankfully fizzling out.
“There will be no grand venue. And certainly no eighteen course banquet. Instead there will be a…” Damn, Patricia’s mind went blank as she tried to come up with a compromise that would suit everyone.
“A high tea.” Cullen inserted.
“Yes.” Patricia grabbed onto the idea with enthusiasm. “A high tea. If it’s good enough for the Queen, it will be good enough for Apep.”
Faleph was shaking his head gravely, his mouth a grim, disapproving line. “Apep is the Lord of Chaos. The Dark Light. Worshipped by the five elements-”
Patricia couldn’t help but notice that the longer Faleph listed Apep’s titles the more unsettled the fiery black liquid was becoming. Little sputtering dots arcing from the funnels along the outer walls as well as the stream. “Yes.” She interrupted. “There is no doubt in anyone’s mind that Apep is a powerful God. But in the capacity of meeting Cara, his role is that of Grandfather… albeit one who is a hundred or more times removed. They are family, an intimate gathering is much more appropriate.”
“Perhaps a high tea might be suitable.” Athaltho’s round face never dropped that smile. “But of course there will need to be factored in appropriate time for the descendant and all those in attendance to abase and give praise and worship to the exalted Apep. Two hours would be deemed the bare minimum.”
“By then the cucumber sandwiches would have gone stale.” Cullen attempted to lighten the mood, noting one of the dog headed guards discretely brushing away a droplet of fiery liquid as it arced in his direction. And one of the huge golden tapestries was quietly smouldering, sending a lazy curl of smoke upwards as the material blackened in slow increments.
“Yes.” Patricia was aware of the need to hurry this along. “And the English Breakfast would be cold. So we are in agreement, a high tea, no prayer or worship time-”
“What about entertainment?” Zartel demanded to know. “If not wrestling bears or displays of battle skill, then at least bring forth all your virgins to dance for Apep’s pleasure.”
Grrr, Zartel was grinding Patricia’s last nerve into a pulpy mess. Couldn’t he see that Cara was barely hanging on by a thread here? She was trying to save everyone’s lives and he was not helping. Ignoring him she carried on. “So now to decide the venue.”
“You have eight days to build a temple.” Faleph sneered, clicking his fingers as another floor to ceiling banner unrolled a few feet away, hovering in the air magically. It had a detailed sketch of a three storey temple, the main feature being a statue of Apep, which Cullen calculated according to the details would be over a hundred feet high and looked to be made out of pure silver.
Erik winced as Cara’s nails dug into his hand, absently he reached out to touch the metal table and the sting instantly disappeared as his magic kicked in and his skin became likewise as hard as metal. He really didn’t like the look of panic that was slowly settling over his wife’s features. She had already expressed several doubts about meeting with her until recently deceased relative. Doubly so, since he was a God, and responsible for Cara’s chaos powers that she only just lately beginning to have some control over. Except in instances when she was tired or overwhelmed, like this dog headed guard and pony show.
Erik was very aware of how much danger everyone was in. If Cara’s mojo let loose, then anything could happen. Adding fire and hanging loose pot plants heavy enough to crush a man’s skull to the equation was just insane.
Shit, shit, Cara’s skin felt clammy under his touch, her face too pale, her eyes too wide and darting all over the place, no doubt collating a list of the number of ways she could destroy the Southern Sanctuary Library if she didn’t retain control. And it wasn’t helping the situation, as frowny-face warrior and his cohorts continued to pile on the pressure.
“I don’t think I can do this.” Cara stared up at the building schematic.
“There won’t be a temple.” Patricia assured her.
“There will.” Zartel growled.
“There won’t.” Patricia sent him a hard look, just managing to keep the smile on her face, for Cara’s sake.
“On this plane Apep will only walk on sacred ground.”
“He’ll be walking into a McCafe if you keep this attitude up.” Snapped back Patricia.
“There will be a temple and those in attendance along with the descendant…” Zartel shot Cara a look that was only just short of sneer. “… will prostrate themselves in Apep’s glorious presence.”
That was the moment the look on Cara’s face turned from pale and overwhelmed to flinty, and seething mad. Cullen’s attention shifted to the stream of liquid fire bisecting the room as a bubble the size of a dinner plate broke the surface, popped, and sprayed droplets of fire to sizzle and fizzle out across the tiled floor. And that one large bubble was followed quickly by another and another. It was no surprise when the large banner, listing suitable venues off to their immediate left was splattered, instantly the fabric burst into flame.
Athaltho raised his hand. “I’ll take care of this.”
“No!” Erik, Cullen and Patricia all protested. But it was too late. Athaltho was clicking his fingers and the banner immediately disappeared, unfortunately he hadn’t accounted for the flames. With the banner gone the fiery liquid that had soaked into the material now violently sprayed outwards.
There were general cries of dismay. Patricia felt both Zartel and Faleph move to protect her. But she could save herself, thank you very much. Ducking under the metal table, bumping up hard against Cullen who had quickly assessed the situation and likewise sought safety.
“Fancy meeting you here.”
Patricia frowned as a flare of light lit up the surrounding shadows, damn, one of the hanging pot plants had just burst into flames. “We could be in real trouble here.”
Cullen nodded in agreement as somehow the chair that Athaltho had pushed back in the mayhem to get away from the fiery splash ricocheted off a nearby stone column, sailed through the air and hit the flaming hanging pot. Sending it swaying on its chain to hit another hanging pot, that like a domino caught fire and swung off to smack against another pot. Within forty seconds every hanging pot was aflame, and swinging wildly about the room, smacking into one another, sending fiery debris and spar
ks dropping to the ground.
Shit. Cullen watched the dog head guards do a weird dance as they panicked, smacking at their loin clothes and bare flesh. The fiery bubbling liquid splashing their feet while burning dirt and flora rained down on them from above. While two of the tapestries depicting a bare-assed naked Apep looking wise and handsome caught fire.
Cullen shifted closer to Patricia, noting that Erik had Cara covered, hovering over her protectively as he clung to one of the stone columns. His clothes smouldering in patches but his hair and flesh now impenetrable stone. “What is going to happen when these idiots return everything to normal?”
Patricia snatched her legs away from Zartel as he bent to make a grab for them. Couldn’t he see she was perfectly safe where she was for the moment? Typical warrior, their instincts often overrode their common sense. Sometimes it just paid to wait out the mayhem.
“Patricia?”
“What?” She turned to face Cullen, her breath intermingling with his they were in such close quarters.
“I asked what will happen if Apep’s minions decide to remove all the gimmickry they arrived with?”
“Oh, damn. It will be like that stupid banner, without anything to cling to… potentially a fireball.”
“Then we need to get out of here.” Cullen’s head swivelled as he eyed the nearest exit point, his target. Instantly he was able to sift through all the variables, the angles, the calculations. He noted that Athaltho was being helped to his feet by Faleph, who was also batting at the rain of fiery dirt spilling out of the clanging pot plants. Shit, he only had two point five seconds to create a distraction before the duo got their act together and departed, taking only half the mess with them.
Patricia looked around for Zartel, now was the time for the warrior to step up. But he was gone. Lovely. Her attention whipping back to Cullen as he bumped her. “Ready?”
Ready? What did he mean by ready? And why was he uncapping a fountain pen, of all the… she watched gobsmacked as he suddenly hurtled the pen off into the distance. She barely had a moment to wonder what the hell he thought he was doing when there followed the screech of tearing metal and one of the burning hanging pots hit the tiled floor, detonating fiery debris in every direction. Funny how she was able to hear Athaltho and Faleph swearing in latin as they scrambled and tumbled to get out of the way.
