by Steve McHugh
A lit fireplace warmed the entire room, which was a good size, even with the half dozen comfortable looking chairs, a table, and several cupboards.
All four of us sat on the chairs, with Mister Baker taking up residence in front of the large window; the yellow curtains closed, ensuring the room remained free from external prying eyes.
“So, what do you want to know?”
“Several people might have come through here recently asking for information about Whitechapel, maybe requesting soul jars,” Alan said. “We wish to find them.”
“Whitechapel you say?” Mister Baker asked in a tone that suggested he bloody well knew all about the people we were asking about but was going to find himself suddenly unable to remember.
The door to the room opened and a young woman walked in with a tray containing several cups, saucers, a pot of milk, and a teapot. She placed the tray between us and glanced over to Mister Baker. “Anything else, sir?” she asked. Her accent was Scottish, although it wasn’t thick; I imagined she’d spent a lot of time away from her native country.
“No, Fiona. Once you’ve poured the tea, you may leave.”
Fiona brushed her long dark hair over one ear and nodded. She poured four cups, placing milk in each, and passed each of us a cup and saucer. As she turned to leave, I noticed that Alan was watching her intently. Before she left, she glanced back over at the four of us, and allowed her gaze to take in each of us in question. She noticed me watching and quickly left the room.
“She’s a good maid,” Mister Baker said. “She makes a good cup of tea and knows how to clean. Both helpful traits in a woman.”
Diana tensed and pretended she hadn’t heard him.
“We need your help,” I said, moving the conversation away from something that was liable to make Diana tear his head off.
“Yes, I remember.” Mister Baker took a sip of his tea. “Why do you want to find them?”
“They happened to cross Brutus,” Diana said.
Mister Baker turned to stare at Diana. “Brutus sent you? Well, that changes a lot, doesn’t it? I can’t say no to our illustrious king. The price is one hundred pounds and a meeting with Brutus to discuss an expansion of my operation.”
“We can discuss that,” Diana said immediately.
“Do you mind awfully if I go talk to Fiona?” Alan asked. “She was quite lovely.”
Mister Baker waved his arm in the direction of the door. “Don’t distract her for too long from her duties, but be my guest.”
When Alan stood up and walked past me, my hand shot out and grabbed his arm. “What are you doing?” I whispered as Mister Baker and Diana hashed out terms in more detail.
“Trust me,” Alan whispered back.
I thought about it for a moment. Trusting Alan wasn’t exactly something I was used to. But he’d given his word that he would help, so I released his arm. He nodded thanks and then left to find Fiona.
“So, it’s settled then,” Mister Baker said. “One hundred pounds and an hour of Brutus’s time.” He shook hands with Diana, who appeared to want to wash the moment he turned back to me.
“So, you’ll help?” I asked.
“Money up front.”
I removed two more gold bars and placed them on the table next to the tea tray. “This should satisfy you.”
Mister Baker nodded, and then snatched the thin bars from the table. “Three men turned up here a few weeks ago. They asked for some information on the seedier parts of the city, but they didn’t need any soul jars. They did, however, ask for a collection of urns to be dropped off at an address. I didn’t ask questions and they didn’t seem the type to give answers.”
“Where was the address?” I asked.
“Whitechapel. I’ll go get it.” Mister Baker got up and left the room.
“Looks like they made the soul jars themselves. You think he’s lying?” Diana asked.
“I doubt it.”
“Where the hell is Alan?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
After a short time the door opened and Fiona walked back in. She moved over to the tray and began placing the various cups and saucers on it. “Your friend came and found me,” she whispered. “You’re being set up.”
“Alan set us up?” Diana demanded to know.
Fiona shook her head. “I’m SOA, Alan recognized me from a few years ago. Baker is out there right now, contacting the Reavers. I assume that’s who you’re after.”
“How do you know?” I asked. “And where is Alan?”
“Alan is creating a distraction. He’ll be along shortly. The rest I’ll explain later. We need to get you out of here before Baker’s friends show up.”
“Friends?” I asked.
“Reavers. He’s one of them.”
“Shit!” Diana said and stood, readying herself for a fight.
“Give it a few seconds.”
The explosion sounded like it had torn the house in two. The entire building moved as if someone had picked it up and shaken it. I fell back onto the chair, while Fiona and Diana steadied themselves against the nearest wall.
The window behind Diana shattered. “We have our exit,” I said. “Everyone out. That includes you, Fiona, I think your cover is officially blown.”
“What about Alan?” Fiona asked.
“I’ll grab him,” Diana said and ran through the doorway. A short time later, she flew back through the wall, pieces of brick and plaster covering the room. The wood troll stood in the gaping hole that was left in the wall and glared at the three of us.
“You okay?” Fiona asked.
Diana didn’t answer. She just got back to her feet and moved her neck from side to side. It audibly cracked. She ran at the wood troll, grabbed the larger creature around the waist, and lifted it from the ground, before continuing to run through the wall behind it.
“She’ll be fine,” I said “Where’s Alan?”
“I’m here,” Alan said from outside the window. “You planning on leaving, or do you want to stay and watch Diana kill that troll?”
Fiona was the first out of the window, helped by Alan. I looked back at Diana and the wood troll as their fight raged on. Diana had transformed into her werebear form and was tearing large chunks off the wood troll, which was doing its best to not die. Wood trolls are strong and resilient, but even they can only take so much damage. I jumped out of the window, and looked around. Alan and Fiona were sitting on the ground nearby.
“What the hell did you do?” I asked him.
“It’s surprising how explosive things you can find in a pantry are,” he explained.
“We shouldn’t stay long. Baker and his friends will be back soon,” Fiona said.
“Not leaving Diana,” I explained. “She’ll be done shortly.”
“How do you know she’ll win?” Fiona asked.
“I know Diana, she’ll win. She doesn’t know how to do anything else.”
“How long has Avalon been investigating the Reavers?” I asked Fiona.
“I don’t know who you are. I’m not about to give away Avalon secrets, primarily because you turning up has blown our whole operation.”
“My name is Nathan Garrett,” I explained. “I think I have clearance to know.”
Fiona stood to attention. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“Don’t do that,” I told her. “I’m not your commander. I just want to know what’s going on.”
Another explosion of noise sounded from behind me as the troll came through the front of the house that used to be Mister Baker’s workplace. It impacted with the stone-laced ground, and bounced a few times. It didn’t move again.
Diana stepped out of the rubble. No longer in her were-bear form, she was completely naked, and covered in blood. Wounds littered her body, several of which were closing as she walked toward us. She carried a pair of trousers and a shirt with her, which she proceeded to put on once she’d kicked the troll in the head one last time.
“I lost my sho
es,” she said as she fastened her trousers. “I liked those shoes.”
“Is it dead?” Alan asked.
“Broke its neck,” Diana confirmed. “It’s as dead as can be. Anyone see Baker?”
“He scarpered,” Alan said.
“Thanks for the warning,” Diana told Fiona, before looking down at a still-seated Alan. “Looks like you were useful after all.”
“So, you feel like answering my question?” I asked Fiona.
“Several members of Avalon no longer believe that the Reavers are doing what’s best for the organization. There are rumors that they’ve killed people who have investigated them. Merlin has a lot of influence within the group, and still uses them for many of the shadier ventures, but a few of us have been tasked with looking into them.”
“Who tasked you?” I asked.
“Elaine,” Fiona answered immediately. “I answer only to her.”
I was about to say more when Mister Baker staggered around the corner, his chest covered in blood. He saw us, paused, and then fell face first on the ground.
I walked over to him; a blade of fire already formed in my hand, and kicked him onto his back. Someone had cut his throat in one neat, but deep, slash. I cursed loudly. Without Baker we had no idea where the Reavers were hiding. We were back to square one. I glanced around the gloomy morning, and for the briefest of moments, I could have sworn I’d heard someone laugh.
CHAPTER 14
November 1888. London.
We need to speak to Felix,” Diana said as the four of us reached our destination outside of the SOA house in Whitechapel.
“Baker knew you were coming,” Fiona told us. “He had some of his friends in waiting just outside. Four men, all in fancy suits, I didn’t see any of their faces; I was banished from the room while they spoke.”
“Reavers,” I suggested.
“That was my guess, yes,” Fiona confirmed. “Someone told Baker about your arrival. He was told to keep you all in the building, make his excuses to leave and then they’d come in and kill you all.”
“Didn’t work out too well for them, did it?” Alan said his voice angry and low.
I glanced at him as Diana and Fiona left the carriage. “You okay?” I asked.
“Felix set us up. I don’t like being set up.”
I had to admit, I’d come to the same conclusion. “We’ll get to Felix. But first, we need something else.”
“What? What’s more important than finding that old bastard and making him tell us where these psychopaths are?”
“You’ll see.”
I exited the carriage and entered the house, finding Diana and Fiona in the living room. “Diana, can I have a word with Fiona, please?”
Diana looked between us before she nodded and left the room.
“I know what you want,” Fiona said. “You want to talk to Elaine.”
“How long will it take to prepare?”
“I haven’t said I’ll let you.”
“I’m not asking, Fiona. How long will it take?”
Anger shone in her eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it had arrived. “About an hour, although I don’t understand what good it will do.”
“I have questions that she can answer. If I go to Merlin with this, he’ll deny everything. I want to talk to someone I can trust will be honest with me.”
Fiona stood up and stretched. “I’ll be back shortly.” She left the room, and a moment later Diana and Alan appeared.
“She didn’t look very happy,” Alan said.
“I’ve asked to speak to Elaine.”
Diana nodded. “Probably for the best.”
Alan looked between us. “Who?”
“Elaine Garlot.”
“Mordred’s aunt?” Alan asked, surprised. “She doesn’t want you dead, then?”
“Elaine’s family and I have a complicated relationship,” I admitted.
To be fair, complicated was probably underselling it. Elaine was the sister to Morgan Le Fay, a woman I’d loved who’d betrayed me to help Mordred try and kill Arthur. I hadn’t seen Morgan since that day so very long ago, although rumor had it Elaine was still in contact with her.
Over the years and the many arguments that Elaine and I had been a part of, there was one constant. I trusted her. Yes, Morgan and her other sister Morgause—Mordred’s mother—had both betrayed Avalon, but Elaine had always been a steadfast supporter of the organization, if not of Merlin, nor his actions in running it.
I left Alan and Diana to their own devices and went to my bedroom, taking some time to lie down and rest until someone knocked on the door, and almost immediately opened it.
“It’s ready,” Fiona told me.
I got to my feet and thanked her, before following her toward the bedroom at the rear of the building.
“You know how these work, yes?” she asked as we stopped outside the room.
“I’ve used it more than once to contact Merlin.”
“Well, once you activate the rune, it’ll connect with Elaine. Or at least let her know you’re trying to connect. Whether she’ll answer or not, I don’t know.”
“I’ll take what I can get,” I said.
Fiona pushed the door open and we both stepped inside. She closed the door behind us as I took in the room’s contents. There was a bare bed at the far end of the room, with a small chair next to it. The rug that usually covered the floor had been rolled up and placed in the corner, exposing the floorboards beneath. A large circle had been drawn on the boards in what appeared to be chalk. A rune had been drawn on north, south, east, and west points; the same rune each time. The word Elaine had been written at the top of the circle, near the opposite wall. The same circle and runes had been drawn on the wall at about the height of a person’s head if you were sitting on the ground looking at it.
It didn’t really have a name, or at least not the same one that everyone used. Some called it a vision circle, others a summoning circle, but either way it did the exact same thing. Someone draws the circle on the floor with the correct runes, and then copies that in a smaller scale on a flat surface in front of them. You write the name of the person you wish to communicate with at the top of the circle, and then sit inside. Once comfortable, you concentrate on seeing them inside your head. So long as they agree to talk to you, their face appears in the circle on the wall. It takes a little getting used to.
The whole method was devised by the Norse dwarves thousands of years ago. The runes you have to use are one of the twenty-one main runes that they created. One of only a few I’m aware of that still exists in any kind of regular use, as the dwarves took that knowledge with them when they vanished centuries ago.
Not just anyone can use the circle. You have to know the name of the person you’re after, and you have to have some sort of connection with them; a friendship, rivalry, something that links you both. Having never contacted Elaine this way before, she would have no way of knowing it was me, therefore I needed Fiona to clear it with her before I could attempt it.
I sat cross-legged in the circle and took the piece of white chalk from the floor, using it to write Elaine’s name in front of me inside the circle. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath as I concentrated on picturing her face in my mind.
After a few seconds, I began to feel as if I were no longer able to open my eyes, as if my entire world was now one of darkness, one of sleep. It’s a terrifying experience, and something that only lasts for a microsecond, but it feels as if for that moment all of time has stopped. Some people let the fear creep up inside them, consuming them, and there have been tales of people becoming changed once they finally wake up. Or never waking up at all.
My body began to relax once more and Elaine’s face remained in my mind. I kept it there until it spoke to me. “Nathan,” she said, softly.
I opened my eyes and saw Elaine’s face inside the circle on the wall, while all around me was darkness, with occasional flickers of light. Time had paused for Elaine and me whi
le we spoke. Conversations held in the circle had to be brief, and to the point. Taking too long was dangerous.
“Elaine,” I said with a smile. “It’s good to see you.” Elaine had long, dark brown hair, which was plaited around her ears, the plaits a mixture of her hair and colored fabric of reds and oranges. Her face was kind and approachable, and her smile was something that could cause even the stoniest of hearts to soften. She appeared to be in her late thirties, although in reality she was somewhere around the two and a half thousand mark. Elaine was widely considered to be one of the most powerful sorcerers on the planet. Even Merlin would think twice about going up against her.
“It’s been too long,” Elaine said. “I’m surprised it’s you here. Fiona told me you needed to talk. She was most apologetic for disturbing me.”
“Reavers. Merlin. Have long have you known what he has them doing?”
“A long time. There’s no proof that Merlin is doing anything. Everything is rumor and hearsay. But we’re not trying to find anything on Merlin, that’s a waste of time. But if we can find that the Reavers are abusing their power, and their position in Avalon, we can have the organization excommunicated.”
“I want them dead. Finished. The Reavers will be done.”
Elaine paused. “Not possible. We don’t even know who the leader is. Fiona told me what is happening with the prostitutes in London. You need to concentrate on stopping them there. Send a message that they can’t do what they like without consequence. Stopping the Reavers as a whole would involve Merlin, or enough evidence that the council can’t ignore it. Without it, he’s unlikely to help.”
“I need to talk to him.”
“Merlin? When was the last time you were in Albion? Hell, when was the last time you spoke to him?”
It had been too long. “I need help, Elaine. I need to find these people, I need to stop them. I’ve stayed away from Camelot, I’ve buried my head in the sand, not dealing with Merlin’s changes over the centuries for fear of what might follow. I’m done. When this is over, I’m done.”
