I have to laugh, and it feels good to lift from the heaviness of my meanderings.
* * * *
By the time Marlise drops by Sunrise Lodge late on Friday afternoon, I’ve done the best I can to set up my new living quarters. Granted, the institution-grey walls need a lick of paint, but I’ve scrubbed the pine floor until the wood’s true colour shows once I remove decades of unmentionable grime.
My earthly possessions now include a mattress, two blankets, two sheets and a pillow. I’ve added two tin mugs, so I can make myself tea in the squalid excuse of a communal kitchen.
“It’s better,” Marlise says, while appraising the room from her position at the head of the stairs. “I can’t say I like it, but at least it’s clean…er.” She wrinkles her nose.
I fit her beneath the crook of my arm, where it feels she’s always belonged. “It’s gonna have to do for now. I won’t be having any tea parties here, that much is for sure.”
We don’t stay long at all. She’s not comfortable in this creaky old structure and, besides, we’ve got work to do. I give her the last of my money for fuel and we head out to the far south, to Noordhoek. It’s a good three-quarter hour drive and we don’t say much. Marlise plays a dirgelike album by some band she calls A Pale Horse Named Death. It’s all dirty noise to my ears, the lyrics so gloomy I wonder about the lead singer’s past. Something must have happened to him then. But that small part of me that is Ashton likes the sound, and that’s enough for me right now.
Kakapo Estate sprawls across a large section of the mountainside. The sun’s on its way down, and all we can really do is pull the car up a hundred metres or so from the main gates.
“It’s pointless,” Marlise says. “You’ve just wasted a lot of my fuel.”
“It’s not pointless. I need to see the place for myself.” The problem is it has a guard manning the entrance. Six-foot palisade fencing with jagged edges encloses the sacred land of the filthy rich. It’s going to be all but impossible getting in. Not to mention the security cameras at regular intervals. Maverick Enterprises wants to make damn sure no intruders breach the perimeter.
“What are you going to do about it?” she asks.
“Dunno yet. I need time to think about it.” At the back of my mind I know this isn’t going to be easy, especially when examining the disparity in resources. Me, go up against House Montu, and all this? Still, there has to be a way. “Let’s go see Leonora. I’d like you to meet her. She was a big part of my life before…”
“You sure it would be okay?”
I ask to borrow her phone, cursing when I can’t get the right buttons to work, but I’m glad to see we can look back to the received calls list and retrieve Leo’s number. She answers almost immediately and, despite the short notice, is happy to see us.
We don’t have much time, and that damned hour glass keeps emptying. Although I worry that Marlise won’t get on with Leo, I’m gratified that an instant connection is forged the moment they meet each other. It’s a completed circle, and I sit back listening to the two most important women in my life. Even now, looking at the younger woman, I can hardly believe I’ve allowed her to creep into my heart. She’s not Richard, my doubt reminds me. But it’s better than being alone, and if I could be grateful for anyone with whom to spend time, it’s Marlise.
Naturally, Marlise is in awe and, like a child, asks so many questions, rising often to peer at books, take them off the shelves and page through them. Maybe there is hope for her future among the Inkarna after all.
“I just never thought there was this kind of stuff out there,” she admits later.
“You were too busy ruining your mind with that vampire crap.”
Marlise shoots me a glare that would strip paint.
“Perhaps you can start with this?” Leonora rises and hobbles to her bedside table where she retrieves a slim leather-bound volume, which she brings to Marlise.
She flips through the pages then looks up at Leonora. “I can’t! This book is a hundred years old!”
“Keep it,” Leo says. “I have no use for it anymore, not where I’m going.”
I’m painfully reminded then, of Leo’s age. The candlelight softens some of the lines marring her features. We were together for such a short while, Inkarna and initiate. Ten short years compared to the lifetime she’s had without me around. Do I even know her anymore?
As if sensing my thoughts, she makes eye contact over the table and the love and gratitude she feels washes over me, one of the gifts between Inkarna that grows with age, the ability to project. Marlise picks up on something, because she glances between us, her expression unreadable, before she continues paging through the book Leo gave her.
Leonora’s energy signature is visible in the low light, a bulbous glowing oval shimmering just at the edges of my vision. It is ragged at the edges, struck through with dark veins that tell me her end is near. This first time is always fraught with uncertainty. Leo will be asking many of the same hard questions I did when standing upon the cusp of the first great passage through the Black Gate.
But if I were to meet with some unfortunate accident, and had opportunity to consider this final journey, I’m sure the second time wouldn’t be any easier than the first. So much can go wrong. Granted, I know what to expect and, this time, I’ll bypass the Hall of Judgment.
“I’m going to arrange for my things to be placed in storage once I’m gone,” Leonora says. “The estate should be wound up within three or four months. I spent time with my attorney this morning and have changed my will. You should find your life far more comfortable once what remains of the trust fund is in your name. Though I daresay don’t give up your day job anytime soon if you’re wanting luxuries.” She gives a dry laugh.
Marlise gasps. “You mustn’t talk like that, Leo! You can’t die now.”
“My dear.” She clasps one of Marlise’s hands. “It’s going to happen soon. Death comes for each of us. We can choose to embrace the day and look back upon lives that have been full, or we can go kicking and screaming, causing unnecessary pain for not only ourselves but the people we love. It is the way of things. And, besides, you’ll see me again soon. It will be like the blink of an eye.” She winks at Marlise.
Marlise casts about wildly, first looking pleadingly at me before turning back to Leo. “But… But…”
I place my hand on Marlise’s thigh, giving it a squeeze. “I know it hurts but the consolation for our kind is that death is merely a portal, a catalyst for a transformation.” Now’s not the time to discuss the dangers. “Be glad for Leo that she has an opportunity to start afresh. Her Kha is tired and old, and her soul needs to complete its journey. She will progress to Per Ankh, where she will meet the other Inkarna, to be welcomed in their midst. There are many wonders for her still to experience.” Gods, I sound like I’m reciting some sort of holy scripture.
To be honest, I don’t remember much of what transpired between my passing through the Black Gate and attaining Per Ankh. I don’t think the human mind can comprehend the Hall of Judgment and bring back a clear recollection. Ammit the Devourer lies there…
When Marlise excuses herself to use the bathroom, Leo turns to me. “She is so young, Ash. Is this wise drawing her into our world?”
“Don’t remind me,” I murmur. The apartment is small. I don’t want Marlise to overhear our discussion.
“You’ve forced changes in her. The daimonic powers are starting to awaken. Wouldn’t it be better if you see a little less of her, at least until this mess with House Montu, Maverick Enterprises and the Van Vuurens is clarified? She will make a good Inkarna. She just needs time and encouragement. Much fear is lodged in her heart. You will need to tread carefully with her.”
“I don’t know if I can keep her safe. I may well be the most dangerous person in her life.” I decide not to worry Leonora with talk about Ashton Kennedy’s angry ghost. As if in response, something deep within me stirs. I push that thought away. “I’m afraid she alre
ady knows too much and it’s a case of either leaving her in ignorance to get hurt, or preparing her so that she at least has a fighting chance.”
Leonora nods. “They were here again yesterday. This time they renewed their compulsions but also set traps. I fear they may be alert to shifts in the aethers. What happened with the stele?”
The toilet flushes in the bathroom and I glance toward the closed door before turning toward Leo. “It’s safe, hidden. I’m more worried about the knowledge you hold.”
The old woman laughs quietly. “Oh, I’m quite adept at keeping secrets. After all, one doesn’t hide away from one of the most eminent Houses for so many years if one isn’t capable of playing the game. Don’t worry, it’s crossed my mind as well that this isn’t the sort of knowledge our brethren would want out in the open. I’ll keep mum. We can discuss this when we meet again.” Leo speaks with so much confidence I want to believe her.
At this point, Marlise exits the bathroom, pausing before she sits, searching our eyes. “My ears are burning,” she says.
“What you don’t know can’t hurt you,” I say, knowing it’s going to drive her crazy.
“You know that’s bullshit, Ash.” She settles back in her chair and lets out a small annoyed huff.
Leonora’s expression is troubled.
We stay until after ten, but it’s clear Leo is tired, and we say our farewells.
I don’t say what’s on my mind, that this may be the last time I see her for a long time. Likewise, she remains cheerful, though I gain an affirmation from her daimonic self whispering up against mine, almost like someone brushing lint of a jacket.
Marlise, clutching the thin volume to her chest, natters about us doing meditations soon, now that we’ve dealt with the spiritual annoyance, stopping short of blathering about Ashton when she catches a sharp glance from me. I nod, and reply on autopilot. Although I’m glad I’ve seen Leonora, I can’t help but feel I’m up against insurmountable odds, and I’m not quite sure how to proceed from here.
Maybe it’s safer letting Marlise imagine this whole Inkarna business isn’t really as dangerous as it is, that it’s just some old girls’ and old boys’ clubs that occasionally have disagreements. And it’s not for the first time that I curse allowing Marlise to see where I’ve hidden the stele. That’s the sort of knowledge that can get her killed, even if she has no idea, in truth, what the issues at stake are.
House Montu is already nigh on unstoppable. It still bothers me that House Adamastor would have placed me in that House’s midst, but equally disturbing is the thought, however unlikely, that they weren’t aware. Who voted on the placement of Inkarna who punched through? Is it possible House Montu has a spy in House Adamastor’s Per Ankh?
Usually the Houses keep each other balanced, that much I’ve seen. What would happen to human society if House Montu were to pull together all its threads? A world dictatorship? Surely not? But then I’ve heard of their skills in combat, their almost superhuman speed, the ability to heal, to kill. Although House Adamastor’s arsenal of talents are not to be sniffed at, we’re essentially useless in hand-to-hand combat with House Montu’s Inkarna.
House Montu with the ability to send souls howling into Ammit’s slavering jaws? Now that is truly frightening.
Marlise asks that I spend the night with her, just one last time. She’s hurt when I decline but nonetheless drives me back to town.
“You can always come in,” I tell her. “Just for a short while.” To be honest it would be nice to spend a little time with her, even if my lodgings leave much to be desired.
She shudders and sits back in her seat. “Ugh. I’d rather not. It’s Friday night. Some of those people are seriously dodgy. There’s drug deals going down in there.”
“Guess that’s it then, for today.” I lean over and kiss her, keeping it businesslike.
She doesn’t look at me when I get out of the car. It’s when she drives off that I realise we never did make plans for Saturday. But the prospect of some solitude doesn’t upset me as much as it should. I can use the time to meditate, an act I’ve neglected for far too long. Regular spiritual practice is important to Inkarna, as a way to strengthen the apprehension of the daimonic self.
* * * *
Ashton Kennedy sits opposite me at The Event Horizon, while I polish large medallions with the sigils of the different Houses stamped on them. It’s just a dream, I tell myself. He seems thinner, somehow, his eyes hollow and the skin around them almost bruised.
“I suppose you should feel pleased with yourself, reducing me to this.” He gestures around the club. The overhead screens broadcast nothing but static. There are no other patrons, and our faces reflect into infinity off the mirrored walls.
It’s quite disconcerting seeing both of us at the same time, repeated over and over again into an infinite curve. I realise with a start that I’m the one who’s firmly in control of this vision.
A small smile tugs at my lips. “I’m just glad there’s peace and quiet, and we can talk without you throwing the kind of tantrum that would put a two-year-old to shame.”
“I didn’t ask for this to happen.”
“Neither did I.” I put down the cloth and lean over the bar counter so our faces are only a metre apart.
He flinches and looks away, crossing his arms over his chest.
“What now, Ashton? You’re now relegated to a sub-personality in your old Kha. To be perfectly honest, I can destroy you if I want, but that would make me no better than the people who put both of us in this situation.”
He faces me, his eyes boring into mine. “What the fuck are you? Your memories are…alien.”
This catches me up short. It means he must be able to access my memories the same way I can dip into his, a very disquieting thought and even more reason that we need to come to some sort of an accord.
“What do you make of it?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you want?” I ask him.
“I just want my life back.”
“You know that isn’t going to happen. This is the closest it’s going to get to you having your life back. Through some bizarre twist of fate, we’ve been bound, you and I. There’s no going back. There’s no point fighting it.” It must be horrible being a permanent passenger inside one’s old body, able to perceive and feel and think what a dominant Akh does, but unable to do anything about it. And an Akh will always dominate an immature being. It’s like a flea trying to move an elephant, as far as he’s concerned.
Granted I took a chance letting him in, being unprepared for the depth of his rage, but although he’s always going to simmer beneath my Akh, I’m mostly certain he will stay there, beneath my thumb, unless I do something monumentally stupid. Just what exactly equates to monumentally stupid, I don’t know yet and it doesn’t really bear consideration.
He looks so broken, genuinely contrite as he cradles his head in his hands. A surge of pity floods my system. I may take drastic measures when I have to, but I’m not cruel.
“You can make this easier for yourself,” I tell him. Ashton knows things about people and the present era I can access like I do with the Blessed memories. “I’ll allow you more to the fore if you co-operate with me. Help me, and I won’t keep you suppressed.” Granted, that’s taking a gamble, but I’d rather have him on my side than risk his later resurgence. “I’ve proven to you that I can force you to do my bidding whenever and however I want to. If you help me, and prove your use, I won’t allow you to exist in this state.” I gesture at my surroundings.
“Freak,” he mutters, but wild hope gleams in his eyes when he looks at me.
I hold up my hand. “The moment I feel you’re out of control, I’ll push you back here. Understand?”
We stare at each other for a long time, a battle of wills. Ashton is the first to look away.
“Fine. It’s a deal.”
We shake hands on this. Whether this hare-brained arrangement of mine will work, I don’t
know. One thing is certain. I’ll be watching him for one false move.
Chapter 11
A Scarab Pectoral
The dream about Ashton ends and I sit up in a room so shrouded in cloying darkness I don’t at first know where I am. As my eyes adjust, the orange street lamps making two rectangles high against the wall provide just enough light for me to see in the gloom.
Tentatively I prod inward with my daimonic sense, much as one would test to see whether a fruit is ripe. The analogy makes me snort half in laughter. That alternate awareness is still there and it stirs at my touch.
“Are you going to make good on your word?” Reproach is evident in Ashton’s voice.
“Sweet Harwer.” I fall back on the bed. He’s still there, in me.
Dry laughter echoes in my mind, but I sense no anger in it. He’s tired, spent.
“We’ll see,” I reply. “I will allow you to see what I see, and hear. For now. We can share. But don’t get any ideas of any more than that.”
“Fuck you.”
His awareness brushes against mine, but I repel him. Instead I visualise my daimonic double opening its eyes and ears, two points of congruency for me and my angry ghost. “That’s all I’m giving you, you bastard. One wrong turn and I’ll lock you in darkness. I won’t even give you a simulacrum of a familiar place.”
I don’t pick up on any strong emotion, just a sense of relief. Pity for Ashton that I go back to sleep, so there’s no exploring the world of matter for another few hours. I project the sense that it’s not a very good idea to disturb my rest and, sensibly, he backs off. But he’s there. I can feel him, agitating just beneath my skin.
A sharp pain in my chest and a crushing sense of loss have me gasping from my sleep shortly before dawn. If this was as the result of a dream, I can’t say, but I can’t get back to sleep. Instead I sit cross-legged on my bed, unable to shake the terrible sorrow that has tears rolling down my cheeks as I sob.
It’s as if a bright light has been extinguished, something connected to me has passed from this world. I last felt something like this when Richard died. The sense of sadness settles in my chest and though I lie down again, I cannot sleep.
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