The Gathering

by Fiore, L. A.

  Bain wasn’t the man in the pictures, but he was a part of that man. It was why I mourned earlier, because what had been truly was gone. Perhaps that was how it was supposed to be…a moment in time. It was what made their love story so beautiful, because it wasn’t everlasting…fragile and finite. I wished I had those memories.

  Perhaps it was the moment or the place or a little piece of her reaching out, but I saw the memory as if I was living it.

  The smell of ambrosia drifted on the wind. White clouds like large cotton balls dotted the brilliant blue sky. The temple sat alone on a hill all to itself.

  “Do you know what you are doing? There are rules for a reason.”

  “They are outdated rules. I won’t follow them.”

  “You do not know what you could set in motion. Is it really worth the trouble that could follow?”

  “How could anything ugly come from something so beautiful?”

  “A balance, my daughter. You cannot have something beautiful without creating the opposite.”

  “If that is the case, the damage is already done because I love him.”

  “Love is a human concept.”

  “Husband, you know that isn’t true. Daughter, do you love him enough to let him go?”

  “I will have to let him go. Even now he is leaving me. He has from the moment I met him. Every line on his face, every gray hair is a reminder that our time is finite, just a moment in my very, very long life, but he has opened my eyes and showed me beauty where I never saw it. You speak of humans as if they are beneath us, but they are magnificent. They don’t have forever. From the moment they are born, they’re dying, and still, they live each day with exuberance and hope. They have passion and conviction, enough that they are willing to fight and die for what they believe. In a life that is so short, they don’t fear death. They live and they love and they die, and it’s beautiful. We could learn a lot from them. I love him, will always love him, and I will carry the memory of him with me, a beautiful reminder of what I never knew existed and will spend eternity missing. Yes, I love him enough to let him go, but I will hold on with both hands for the time I have with him. Consequences be damned.”

  I snapped from the vision, my chest tight as I tried to draw in breath. I was beginning to realize what I had done, but there was a part of me that even knowing how it would end would have done it again. The little boy appeared, the one from the locked ward. His head tilted back, his gray eyes looking right into mine. He whispered something. I got down on my knees. His hands touched my face, one on each cheek. His touch was cold, but it felt warm as it seeped under my skin. I lowered my head and he smiled, the sight hitting me right in the chest. “You have to remember now.”

  On the hill where once stood a majestic tree, two figures looked down at the house.

  “You weren’t supposed to get involved,” the man said.

  “Neither were you,” she countered.

  His focus shifted to the house, and the woman who walked the halls. “How could I not?”

  She followed his gaze, her dark blue eyes changed as her body started to shift. “I feel the same way.”

  The large black dog howled to the heavens before taking off into the woods. He watched her go then looked back at the house. “We’ll be seeing you, daughter.” The sun tucked into the clouds, the shadows rolled in. When the sun reemerged, the hill was empty.

  16

  Josiah

  Cyril and I were both quiet as we drove to Misty Vale. I wasn’t sure which way was up anymore. It was like I’d stepped into a movie where I didn’t know the script. Reality seemed more like fantasy: zombies, ghosts and events that were linked, but yet how could they be? A woman locked away, someone who didn’t exist. Her doctor didn’t exist; neither did the hospital. How was that possible? It was all linked though, whatever the hell we were in the midst of, all of it was linked. Including me. I was drawn here, came when I never had any inclination to visit. It could be argued I was summoned, the mark on my arm proof of that. I had a connection to the supernatural world I never knew existed. I had to be a cop though, had to think like one. Despite the circumstances, I had to follow the leads and find a way to stop whatever was terrorizing the city.

  We reached Misty Vale, and I hit the brakes so hard Cyril was tossed forward. Misty Vale was boarded up and condemned signs were plastered all over it. The gates and fence that had surrounded the place the last time we were here were gone, just a circle of what looked like ash remained. “Are you seeing this?”

  “I’m seeing it. Not believing it just yet.”

  “What the hell happened here?” I climbed from the car and reached for my gun. I noticed that Cyril reached for his necklace.

  Walking to the front door, the knob turned in my hand. Trepidation filled me when I pushed the door open, but that was quickly replaced with disbelief. It really was all linked and none of it made any fucking sense.

  “It didn’t seem operational because it wasn’t.” Cyril’s comment turned my head to him.

  “How’s that possible?” I answered my own question. “Magic.”

  “A spell, yes.”

  The hospital looked like what it was, a dilapidated old house. The wallpaper was peeling from the walls, the delicate scrollwork and color faded from neglect and age, the thick crown moldings chipping and falling from the ceiling, the grand staircase, missing several steps, split halfway up, curving right and left to the balcony of the second floor, part of which had collapsed. The floors were wood not tile, old threadbare rugs covered some of them. Paintings in thick gilded frames hung crookedly on the walls. Cyril moved toward the back of the house, to the French doors that took up one whole wall, and it was there that we found Ivy Blackwood. She was sitting on an old sofa, the dust so thick you could draw in it. Her legs were pulled up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them. Her head turned when we entered, but it was the look that passed between her and Cyril that piqued my interest. I recognized the look that swept her face, a dawning.

  I started to pace because I was reaching my limit, feared none of this was real and was instead a symptom of me either having a stroke or losing my mind.

  “You’re not losing your mind?” I almost didn’t hear her.

  My back went rod straight. “Come again?”

  She smiled. “You’re not losing your mind.”

  “How the hell did you know I was thinking that?”

  “I can read people.”

  “Read people?” I wasn’t a religious person, but I almost crossed myself. “How’s that possible?”

  “I’ve always been able to.”

  I looked around the room and knew I was in uncharted waters…way the fuck outside of my comfort zone. The words were out before I could stop them. “All right. What don’t I know?”

  It was Cyril who answered. “A lot, but you need to open your mind.”

  “After the shit I’ve seen, this being the least bizarre, my mind is wide fucking open.”

  Miss Blackwood stood. “Dr. Ellis wasn’t what he seemed.”

  “I got that, but I think you and I have different ideas on the definition of not what he seemed.”

  “I don’t know what he is, but he is filled with darkness. He held me here against my will, I understand that now too.”

  “And who are you?” I asked.

  Her answer was sincere when she replied, “I don’t know.”

  “And Ellis?”

  “He’s gone, but we haven’t heard the last of him.”

  How did I know she was going to say that? Sneaking a glance at Cyril, his focus was on Miss Blackwood. “You are not surprised by any of this.” I wasn’t asking because I could see he wasn’t. Scared, but not surprised.

  “I had a feeling,” was all he said.

  “This is supernatural, magic, isn’t it?”

  Two sets of eyes landed on me. “Magic is just the tip of it, Sheriff,” Miss Blackwood offered. She touched my arm, my tattoo that had meant something to her. Her purple
gaze lifted. “What I know for sure is you are part of this.”

  “Of what?”

  “Something is coming. I don’t know when, but darkness is coming. Others will come.”

  “We have to talk. I need to know what you know about Ellis; there’s something you need to see, but I’m guessing you’ve had a rough day, so we’ll hold off on show and tell.” I looked around; this old, broken house was real, what I had seen before, the hospital, that hadn’t been. A little shaky I asked, “Others will come? Does that mean some have already?”

  “Yes.”

  It dawned then, the crew that rode in on motorcycles. My focus turned to Cyril. “The crew. They’re a part of this?”

  “Yes.”

  “On our side, I hope.”

  “Yes.”

  “First bit of good news I’ve had today. What is your part?” I asked Miss Blackwood.

  She didn’t answer right away, her expression turned a bit pensive. “Restore the balance.”

  “What does that mean?”

  She walked to a window that wasn’t boarded, but it was so coated in dirt you couldn’t see out it. “Life is a balance, but that balance is off.”

  “Whatever is coming is throwing the balance off.”

  She turned to me and though she was young, there was something timeless in her expression, something almost otherworldly. “Yes.”

  “How do we restore it?”

  She looked pained; her eyes grew bright. “Reset it.”

  “How?”

  She wiped at her eyes. “I don’t remember, but I will.”

  Seemed like an awfully big responsibility to put on the shoulders of one so young. I didn’t say as much and instead said, “In the meantime…” I looked around the room. “…you can’t stay here. We need to find you a place.”

  “I have a place, but first we need to stop for a friend.”

  “I thought you didn’t have any friends.”

  She smiled. “I thought that too.”

  “All right, but I need to report this.” I looked around and blew out a breath. “How the hell do I write this report?”

  “You don’t,” Cyril replied. “We weren’t able to connect the dots on any of this, on Ellis, this place…” His gaze turned to Miss Blackwood, “…not even her. There’s nothing to explain because they don’t exist...none of it.”

  “But she’s standing right there.”

  “We’ve yet to learn who she is, so for now, we regroup and prepare.”

  “What are we preparing for?” Neither of them had an answer. “I’m not sure I’m ready to hear the answer to that anyway. Let’s get you settled.” I pulled my hat off and dragged my fingers through my hair. Esther had said the one I needed was close. Looking at Miss Blackwood, I had a feeling she was right. Dropping my hat back on my head, I addressed Miss Blackwood, “Who’s your friend?”

  “Aine Wolfhart.”

  “Let’s go see this Aine Wolfhart.”

  Ivy

  Sitting in the back of the squad car, I fisted my tiger’s eye. Who was the little boy? I didn’t remember a child. I would have remembered a child; on some level, I would have remembered him. I glanced outside. He was right; I did need to remember. My focus shifted as my hands shook with nerves and excitement. It was hard not to press my face against the glass, and the feelings…I was bombarded with them. A little girl in a pink dress caught my eye; she was holding her dad’s hand and had a big lollipop in the other. A couple walked arm in arm, heads close as they talked. A man dressed in black waited on the corner, an umbrella in his hand though there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

  “Sheriff, could you please stop the car.”

  Our eyes connected in the rearview mirror. “Are you okay?”

  “Please.”

  He pulled over, climbed out, and opened the door for me. I stepped onto the sidewalk and couldn’t stop the tears that rolled down my face. I turned in a circle, looking at everything, feeling everything...the spicy scents from the restaurants, the odor of all the bodies, and the manure from the horses left to bake in the streets. The colors, the sounds of a brass band playing, excitement, arousal, even drunkenness came at me from every direction. I walked down the street, my fingers brushing along the bricks of the buildings. People laughed and talked; a dog barked. A pot of flowers was cascading with color. I took a minute to smell them. Restaurants with their large windows opened were filled as the patrons ate, laughed and drank. A cab honked, a biker shouted, a plane flew overhead.

  “Ivy?”

  “It’s wonderful.” And it was. Humanity in all her glory and under all of that was the pulse of magic. A chill creeped over me though because under all the beauty was something sinister pushing to get in.

  People walked by with frozen drinks in a variety of colors. My mouth watered.

  “Of course.” The sheriff glanced around, taking in what I was. “This is the first time you’re seeing all of this. How would you like to try a beignet?”

  I didn’t hide my excitement. “Is Café du Monde close?”

  “You know about Café du Monde?”

  “I read about it.”

  He took my elbow, gestured with his hand. “It’s right down the street, but even if it weren’t, we’d go.”

  “I could use a beignet and some chicory coffee,” the deputy said. “I didn’t have breakfast or lunch.” He glanced over at me. “Have you thought about what you’ll do now?”

  “Repeatedly over the years. I’d like a job, an apartment. I’d like to find some semblance of a life.”

  “And what about what’s coming?” the deputy asked.

  “Whatever is coming, whenever it is coming, I’ve never had a life. I’d really like to have one.”

  “Why did they take you?” the sheriff asked.

  “To keep me out of it.”

  “Out of what?”

  “The game.” He wanted more; I wasn’t ready to give him more. I needed to figure it out first. “I know you need more from me, and I will tell you what I know, but right now, I’d really like to experience a beignet in the company of the sheriff and deputy of this very colorful city.”

  “Josiah,” he corrected. He nodded at his deputy. “And Cyril.” We reached Café du Monde; there was a line. It was my first time standing in a line. I felt almost giddy. Josiah offered, “I think I can help you with a job. My wife works at Hunter’s Moon. They are always looking for summer help.”

  “Hunter’s Moon?”

  “It’s an artisan shop, jewelry mostly. If you are interested, I’ll ask her.”

  Sheriff Josiah was a good man. “I think I would like that very much.”

  “Then I’ll ask her.”

  Cyril ordered; the sheriff and I found a table. When a plate of three fried treats covered in powdered sugar was placed in front of me, I just stared because the scent coming from them was divine.

  “Eat them while they’re hot. They taste the best that way,” Josiah encouraged.

  They were slightly greasy to the touch, the oil still hot. I took a bite and my eyes rolled into the back of my head. The beignet itself was crispy on the outside, light and airy on the inside. It wasn’t too sweet; the sweet came from the sugar. It was a celebration in my mouth.

  “I’m guessing by your eyes rolling that you like it,” Josiah teased.

  “The food I’ve eaten my whole life can only be called food in the academic sense. This is delicious.”

  “Who is Aine? How do you know her?” Always the sheriff, I couldn’t help the smile.

  I played with the sugar on my plate. “She helped get me out.”

  “I’m guessing she didn’t just stroll in.”

  “No.”

  “So, she’s different.” His way of saying supernatural.

  “Yes.”

  He had other questions, but he didn’t bombard me with them. We finished our treats and returned to the car. On the way, I saw the man in black again, tucked in the shadows, so I couldn’t see his face, but I felt
his eyes on me before he turned and walked away.

  “Are you okay?” Josiah asked because I had stopped walking, still staring down the street to the man I no longer could see.

  “Yes. I’m fine.”

  I shook it off and climbed into the car. A few minutes later, we arrived at Aine’s.

  Josiah and I both stared up at Aine’s building. We were thinking the same thing when he said, “A supernatural being living in a three-floor walk-up.”

  That was a funny sentence. I could feel Aine’s excitement and was surprised she waited for us to knock before she opened the door. “Officers.”

  Looking past her, the place was sparse. She had a few bags packed, but I’d bet money she was squatting. How long had she been? I felt the sheriff’s doubt; he was thinking the same. Or, he could be reacting to her skintight leather jumpsuit. Before I could share that the sheriff already knew something otherworldly was going on, Aine’s expression changed slightly before she slipped into character. “Ivy, Ivy Blackwood. Oh my God, I can’t believe it.” She hugged me, so hard that all the air rushed from my lungs. “Mom won’t believe it.”

  “They know.”

  Aine’s eyes narrowed before she stepped back. “They know?”

  “He’s a witch,” I said of Cyril.

  The sheriff went still as stone, his focus shifting to his deputy. “You’re a what?”

  “You outted him,” Aine said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

  “We’ll get into that later,” Cyril responded. “Where are you staying?”

  The words were only just out of his mouth when the door opened, and Bain walked in. “With me,” he announced.

  The sheriff studied Bain, eyed his deputy and then muttered. “I need a drink.”

  “My stuff is packed, but I’m sure you would like to get out of those clothes, Ivy.”

  I looked down at my scrubs. “I would.”

  She directed to Cyril, “Why don’t you grab those bags.” She snatched up one. “I’ll take this.” She herded me to the room in the back, dropped on the floor, and opened the bag. “You felt him. Earlier, you felt him first.”

  She came across flighty, but Aine was astute. “Yes.”