“Drink it, seriously. It’s good.”
Kellan took the cup and sighed. “If I drink it, can we leave?”
“Sure, sure. But,” James raised a finger, “you need to drink all of it; can’t be wasting good coffee.”
Kellan growled softly, reached inward, channeled the smallest trickle of power, and felt the coffee cup cool dramatically, even as James’ discarded cup began to boil slightly. “Fine, bottoms up,” Kellan said and threw back the entire cup of, now, lukewarm coffee in a single gulp.
James’ eyes widened in alarm. “Holy shit! You idiot—are you ok?”
Kellan simply smiled and put down the empty cup. “I’m fine. It was delicious, as only the French could make. Now let’s go.”
James looked dubious. “Maybe there’s something wrong with the machine; maybe it’s not coming out hot enough. Let me make another—”
“Dude. Stop. I already called Uber from the elevator; they are going to be here any second. Beer. Now.”
James held up his hands in acquiescence and gave Kellan a frustrated nod towards the door, “Fine…go.”
“Hi guys, I’m Seth. Where we off to tonight?” asked the Uber driver as Kellan closed the door to the Ford Fusion to find James glaring at him.
“We’re heading to the Dark Horse Tavern—know where that is?” asked Kellan
“Nope, but I can find anything—no problem.”
“It’s in Virginia Highlands. 816 North Highland, if you know that part of town.”
“Yeah, I know that area,” said Seth, chuckling softly.
“What’s funny?” asked James in a flat tone that earned him a punch in the leg from Kellan.
“Oh, nothing much, just the first time I was asked to go there, I thought it was going to be all Scottish. You know like little Italy is or Chinatown in New York. Either of you guys ever been to the real Highlands?”
“Yeah,” responded Kellan, smiling to himself.
“What?” said James, “When were you in the Scottish Highlands?”
Kellan waved him off, “It was a long long time ago,” then in a softer voice, “What is your problem? Why are you giving this guy attitude.”
James leaned in. “When you said you got us an Uber, I assumed you meant a black car, or at least an UberSelect. This…” he rubbed his hand along the cloth seats, “this is just subpar, dude.”
“Oh my God! You are so pretentious. I don’t even know how you stand being around yourself. Ok, you get us home then.”
“I will, and it will be in style mon frer.”
“Oooo, French. Did your coffee maker teach you that?”
James made a cranking motion with his right hand, and slowly extended the middle finger of his left.
“So, you guys probably know the answer to this,” began Seth, “Why do they call that area ‘The Highlands,’ since it has nothing to do with Scotland?”
“It’s just the streets, Seth,” answered Kellan, “There are two local roads that intersect there, one is called Virginia Avenue and the other is Highlands Avenue so, over time, the area around where those two meet has just been called Virgina-Highlands”
“Or ‘VaHi’,” offered James.
“No, Seth, don’t listen to my friend. Only pretentious dorks call it VaHi.”
“Noted,” said Seth, and the three settled in to a comfortable silence while James used the time to show off several more pictures of his Zoey Deshcenal clone—then decided to text her for the remainder of their short drive to the bar.
“Thanks, Seth, have a great night,” said Kellan after providing his 5 star review and closing out the app.
“You too. If you need a ride back home later hit me up and I’ll come if I’m able.”
Kellan waved amiably as the Fusion pulled back into traffic, even as he heard James say something about never getting in another Ford.
The Dark Horse was positioned right at the corner of Greenwood and North Highland Avenues. It was faced with classic red brick, sporting its name in large tavern font along with its iconic logo of a black horse being ridden by jockey number eight.
As the two walked into the dimly lit bar, James suddenly sprinted ahead, running along the length of the old double sided wooden bar, stopping at the end and shouldering his way into a seat that had just been vacated while propping his foot up on the neighboring stool.
“What luck is this?” he said as Kellan walked up beside him and took the second seat. “This is my favorite spot in the whole bar. I can see everyone who comes in the front door and the entire other side of the bar. This is absolutely the best seat in the house.”
Kellan just shook his head as a young woman with short cropped hair streaked with blue and several piercings walked over, set down two coasters, and smiled his way, “Hi, I’m Kaylee, What’ll ya have, boys?”
“You have any Innis & Gunn on draft?” asked Kellan
“Yep, we have the Scottish Ale and Regular on draft.”
“Awesome. Is it a 16 oz pour?”
She frowned. “Sorry, it’s a 10, but I could make it a pint. Would be extra though.”
“Perfect,” exclaimed Kellan, slapping the bar, “Please, make it a pint and price is no object. My handsome, if intellectually limited, friend here is paying.”
“That true?” asked Kaylee turning to James.
“Which part?”
She laughed. “How about each part.”
“Yes, I’m paying because I make a fortune compared to this guy. No, I’m not intellectually limited. And, as for being handsome,” James spread out his hands, “Look at me. What do you think?”
Kaylee laughed again, “I think you are just the guy my mom warned me about, so what do you want besides my number—which you aren’t going to get.”
James feigned a frown then said, “I’d like a dirty martini—up with olives, super cold, and dry. I’m talking desert dry. Like, I want you to stare at a portrait of the inventor of vermouth and just whisper his name over the glass kinda dry.”
“OooKayy, Vodka?”
“Kaylee, now you are just trying to hurt me. No. Gin—Tanqueray number Ten please.”
She raised her eyebrows. “And what did you say you did for money?”
“I’m a partner in IBM’s consulting practice. You rethinking my getting that number?”
“Not. at. all.”
“That’s good,” interjected Kellan, “James here has a girlfriend who works with killer pathogens, so he needs to behave.”
Kaylee gave Kellan a wink, left, and returned a few minutes later with their drinks.
“L’chaim,” said Kellan
“Na Zdorovie,” said James. They clinked their glasses then both took long pulls.
Many more drinks followed and the two friends relaxed, sharing stories both old and new. Kellan told his friend about “a book” he had recently read dealing with Angels, Demons, and Time traveling. James couldn’t have been less interested, merely making a derogatory “nerd” comment before declaring that he had to piss like a racehorse—at which point he stumbled towards the back of the bar.
Kellan laughed as he watched his friend slowly weave his way towards the line for the men’s room, when someone bumped his chair.
“Hey, sorry,” Kellan began to the stranger, “My buddy just went to the restroom; he’ll be right back.”
The man didn’t move but simply showed his teeth in a manner that Kellan found vaguely disconcerting. He was older than Kellan, maybe in his later forties or early fifties, had close cropped black hair and a Van Dyke beard. He wore an immaculately tailored navy blue suit that almost seemed to shimmer when he moved and a blood red shirt with onyx inlayed gold cufflinks.
“It’s Kellan, isn’t it? Kellan Thorne?” asked the man with an accent that Kellan couldn’t quite place, but with precise, clipped diction.
“Uh, yeah, and you are?”
The man reached out to touch Kellan’s hand even as the young Sentinel noticed the world around him slow. As their hands touche
d, Kellan felt heat come to his eyes unbidden and saw them flare to life in several of his reflections from nearby mirrors. He whipped his gaze back to the man beside him whose own eyes now glowed with a blazing red light even, as his smile remained.”
“Allow me to introduce myself,” and Kellan suddenly had The Rolling Stone’s “Sympathy for the Devil,” running through his head as the man continued, “My name—is Maurius.”
Kellan stood staring out at the beautiful, but barren, landscape as Maurius continued, “I’m curious, why did you think I could not come to this place?”
Kellan turned to look at the man who Micah and Raphael had warned would seek his destruction even as Lamia’s whispered words again ran across his mind, but which the young Sentinel kept well concealed. Instead, he simply smiled broadly, “Just another bad assumption, I suppose.” He laughed in self-deprecation. Long before Kellan had taken up the mantel of a Sentinel, he had mastered the art of appearing smaller, less impressive, and even a bit middling. While it began as a blunt instrument used by his younger self as a means to fit in and dim the light of his eidetic mind, he later had refined it to razor sharpness. He could don his cloak of unexceptionalism with such accuracy as to ensure those with whom he interacted found him neither dull nor impressive. Now, as he let his chuckle subside, Kellan added just a dusting of confusion to ensure he maximized the desired effect and was rewarded by a familiar look on Maurius’ face. It said simply, “This man is no threat. He is not my equal. What I want from him, I can have.”
Maurius flashed his own smile, but Kellan noted how it did not touch his eyes. He dismissed it for the deception it was. “Oh, Kellan, I had so many of those bad assumptions, you have no idea. But tell me, why did you assume I couldn’t come to the workroom?”
“Well…” Kellan drew out the word and then lied with all the conviction of a seasoned politician, “I assumed you had your own. You know the whole Lucifer - God thing. Order and Chaos. I figured it would be like matter and antimatter us both being here. So, you and Asmodeus can portal your way here whenever you like as well?”
Maurius barked an ingenuous laugh. “Of course we can, why wouldn’t we be able to?”
Kellan gave his best sheepish look and shrugged while his mind captured micro changes in Maurius’ facial expression, body positioning, and voice inflection. He’s lying. You see that don’t you?
Of course, I see that. Do you think I’m an idiot?
I am you and you are arguing with yourself.
Kellan frowned inwardly at his internal monologue. Shut up—this is serious.
You shut up—you realize this confirms what Lamia said about Asmodeus?
Kellan was about to answer himself when Maurius said, “Kellan? Are you alright? You have an odd look on your face?”
“Huh? Oh yeah, I’m fine just zoned out there for a sec; I do that sometimes when I forget my medicine.” Kellan shrugged his shoulders and turned his hands, palms up, “Silly me—”
“Oh, that’s fine. Don’t give it a second thought. Why don’t you sit?” asked Maurius, as he leaned back into the stone throne and gestured with a foot toward the bench nearby.
Kellan sat, rubbing his hand absently along the cool stone as Maurius continued to take his measure. “So, Kellan, what do you know of this place and, more broadly, what did Micah share with you about the dual nature of our roles?”
He told me you were hand picked by Satan’s second in command to sow discord and chaos while Micah lived, and to do everything in your power to snuff me out before I knew what the fuck I was doing. Oh and thanks for the skin-walkers, asshole! Kellan dug his fingers at the stone until sharp pain radiated up his hand, silencing his internal monologue. He looked over to Maurius, “I know it’s called the workroom and that we can do some pretty amazing things here. I know that Lucifer and God once met in this spot even as you and I are now meeting. As for Micah, we really didn’t have much time together. He brought me here to teach me, but after only a few hours we went back to,” Kellan raised his fingers making air quotes, “‘the real world’, because Micah said something was amiss there.”
“Really?” said Maurius, “and what was amiss?”
Kellan shrugged. “Nothing that I could tell, but as soon as we got back, Micah slumped to the floor. He died, Maurius, and then Raphael took his body away.”
Maurius looked crestfallen. “Yes, I felt when that happened, but had assumed you two were together for far longer than that. Micah always took too many pains to do what was right for others rather than himself. He should have stayed here until you two were finished rather than concerning himself with what might have been amiss. Still, I’m sure there was some time for you to get the basics.” Maurius looked at Kellan pointedly with suspicion tugging at his eyes and mouth.
Danger…Danger, Will Robinson.
“Sure, there was time for more than just the basics. The first thing he told me was not to trust you, Maurius.” The response to Kellan’s words were immediate and exactly as he had hoped.
Maurius looked shocked, leaned forward, and pressed his hands to his chest in such a flagrant display that, for a moment, Kellan actually thought he was supposed to disbelieve the clearly feigned surprise and distress portrayed.
No, no, he thinks he’s an amazing actor rather than an arrogant prick; and, he thinks you are a completely incompetent idiot; good job.
“Kellan,” Maurius began, “I don’t expect you to believe me, but please hear me out. My relationship with Micah was,” he paused, “complicated, as any relationships would be given the circumstances around how we met and the length of time we knew each other. It’s true that Raphael and Asmodeus chose us for our respective roles and it’s equally true that those two Angels are pretty much bitter enemies, but that didn’t mean Micah and I needed to be. More importantly, it doesn’t mean you and I need to be. After all, we are both independent of God and Lucifer, right?”
Kellan looked at him blankly.
Maurius sighed like a patient parent and continued, “You were told that we each have a role to play, that I am tasked with Chaos while you are now responsible for ensuring Order. Of course, that just sounds ridiculous doesn’t it? I mean, after all, what is Chaos? It’s not as if I go around encouraging wanton violence and destruction, nor do I have to. You and I, Kellan, are more free to do as we wish than any other living creature. While those who gave us these abilities want us to behave a certain way, we are free to completely ignore their wishes without any consequence to us whatsoever.”
“Really?” asked Kellan, his voice rising in surprise, “That’s not the way Micah presented it. He said it was my responsibility to oppose you.”
Maurius waved his hand, dismissing the notion, rose, and walked over to sit next to Kellan. “Micah was wrong in this, and I’m sorry for having threatened your friend in the bar. But needed you to come here. I needed you to give me the chance to explain myself. I’m not the villain of our story, Kellan. In fact, I’m more the hero. We both are. You just don’t know it yet and I am here to try and help you understand. Promise me, Kellan. Promise me that you will at least give me the opportunity to state my case. You are obviously a strong and intelligent man; I can see that. It would be pointless for me to try and lie to you. You would see straight through any lie I could possibly weave.”
He’s piling it on a bit thick, don’t you think?
Kellan looked at Maurius and said, “I am pretty good at picking out lies, but I also like to make my own decisions. So, yes, Maurius, I forgive you for how we got here and promise to listen to what you have to say.”
Maurius smiled broadly and clapped Kellan on the shoulder. “Good. Good. I think Micah may have finally done something right in having you succeed him. I suppose even a blind squirrel finds a nut once in a while, eh?”
Oh, fuck you asshole!
“Ha! I love that saying and you sure are right about Micah. He wasn’t around when these monsters came after me and then he went off and died without teaching me
hardly anything. Say, Maurius, did you have monsters after you before you became a Sentinel?”
Maurius leaned in conspiratorially. “I did. They are called Skin-walkers, and they try to destroy every newly selected Sentinel before they can accept the power. In fact, they are the true sowers of discord. I couldn’t hope to match them even if I wished to—which I don’t.”
“That’s good. Micah said you sent them after me.”
“I swear that is not the case,” Maurius said, his eyes locking with Kellan’s. “You believe me don’t you?”
Fuck no—
“I do,” said Kellan.
“Good,” said Maurius, visibly relaxing.
“But,” began Kellan, “Why would Micah lie to me?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say he was lying. He probably believed it, but he would also never have accepted the truth of our power—the truth I’m sharing with you now. No, Micah always believed what Raphael told him while I never believed either Raphael or Asmodeus. They are both liars and want to keep us in ignorance. We are the true powers, Kellan. You and me. Combined, our strength is that of God Himself and those Angels fear that more than anything else.”
Holy shit! Did you see that? Kellan flinched imperceptibly as his inner dialogue took an unexpected turn. He wasn’t lying just then.
“What do you mean? The truth about our powers?” Kellan asked.
Maurius got up and started pacing, clearly excited while Kellan tried to control his breathing. The abrupt change in their conversation left him extremely unsettled. He thought he understood this game and now the rules had clearly changed.
“The power within us is a fragment of the power of creation. You hold the power of Order and I the power of Chaos. With either half we can affect many aspects of creation. I, of course, can affect it greatly because I am so much stronger and more skilled than you. But, in time, you could learn to do some of the things I am able to do, if I showed you. Which, I assume you would want me to do?”
Ok, the lying asshole’s back. I feel better.
“Thank you. I’d appreciate that,” answered Kellan.
Maurius waved away the response. “It’s nothing, happy to do it. But, as I said, separately we each can manipulate one half of creation, but neither of us can actually create. However, if we fuse the powers of Order and Chaos, then we can do far more than manipulate that which has already been created. With both aspects of creation within our control, we can become creative forces ourselves. We can become as God!”
Sentinels of Creation: A Power Renewed Page 22
