by Mark Wooden
They always believed him.
Taylor escorted the girl to the door. When he opened it, he and the girl found a man in his late twenties leaning against the wall in the hall outside. He wore a bright red poncho with gold stripes that could have come from Paramount’s Western costuming department. It hung down over the tops of his black jeans, which fed into black, knee-high cowboy boots.
Even though it was nighttime, the man wore stylish sunglasses with silver frames and dark lenses.
The newcomer removed a pair of cumbersome headphones from his ears and let them hang around his neck. The shrill sounds of what Taylor had heard called “industrial rock” leaked from the “B”-labeled headphones. The newcomer stood up from the wall and ran a hand through his tawny, unkempt hair as if trying to make it presentable.
He failed.
“Hello, precious,” he said to the girl.
She gave the newcomer a glance, but then ducked her head and walked past him.
When she was out of earshot, the newcomer said, “Man, Taylor! Much as you have the animosity thing for Strathan, you sure run in his circles!”
Taylor scowled. “Step in, Kyle,” he said, then turned his back on the newcomer and returned to his seat behind the desk.
Kyle Voetberg turned, lowering his glasses to get a last good look at the girl as she rounded the corner and disappeared. He put his sunglasses back into place and then stepped into Taylor’s office, closing the door behind him.
“So what’s the hurry this late?” he asked. “I’m missing the Dreaming at Whiskey-a-Go-Go for this.”
Taylor motioned for Kyle to sit opposite him. Kyle shrugged in response. “Least you’re not asking me to sit on the couch.”
A frown formed on Taylor’s thin lips beneath his bushy red mustache.
Taylor didn’t like Kyle. He was the kind of Initiated Millennial snot with no respect for the Shadowdance, who only wanted magical power — much like Dwyer Strathan, their leader in name only. However, thanks to these traits, Kyle had no qualms about removing Strathan outside of official Order methods.
If Taylor could remove Strathan, the boy would have his power. That promise had been enough to keep him in line thus far.
“A proposition has come to me,” Taylor said.
Kyle leaned forward, taking the girl’s empty glass in one hand, the bottle of vodka in the other. He motioned to Taylor with the items. Taylor responded with a curt nod. Kyle poured himself a fifth while Taylor continued.
“We can rid ourselves of Dwyer Strathan. Tonight.”
Kyle laughed. “Heard this song before,” he said. He sipped the vodka.
“I am told Strathan has the three Vyntari shards.”
“Just like he said he had two shards already. Which we never did see.”
“The verification comes from another source.”
Kyle tilted back his glass, preparing to drink. “Let me guess. Long lost Order leader Malachi Thorne himself has come out of hiding for three Vyntari shards.” He poured the vodka into his mouth.
“Precisely,” Taylor deadpanned.
Kyle spit out his vodka. He looked to Taylor, probably expecting to see a smile, twitch, something that alluded to this being a joke. The older man remained as serious as when he began. Kyle wiped his mouth with the back of his gloved hand and poured himself another glass.
“I’ll give it to ya, Taylor. When you lie, you lie big. First off, those shards are nothing but a myth.”
“They’re real, Kyle,” Taylor said, not bothering to hide his impatience. “If they were not, the Order —”
“And second,” Kyle said, interrupting Taylor. Kyle threw back the rest of the vodka. This time he got the chance to swallow the liquid. “Thorne hasn’t come out of hiding for shit since the forties. Last century. We’ve had some pretty big things since then, like that Millennium Massacre. Damned vamp bitches cutting us down —”
Taylor reached across the desk and snatched the Belvedere from Kyle’s hand and slammed it on the desk. Kyle looked surprised, then set his face in a frown. He tossed his empty glass on the desk and leaned back in the chair. “All I’m saying, if he didn’t pop up before now —”
“Three Vyntari shards, Kyle,” Taylor said. “Even if you don’t believe the teachings, you know their significance. Thorne is a believer.”
Taylor stared at Kyle, and then poured himself a glass of the liquor, draining the bottle.
The younger man studied the older man. Taylor quietly sipped from his glass. Kyle leaned forward in his chair. Taylor now had his full attention.
“You are totally shitting me,” Kyle said.
Taylor leaned back in his chair. He took another sip of the vodka, then lowered it to hold the glass in both hands.
“How do you even know it’s really him? Not some imposter.”
“He knows the oaths; he bares the mark. As a final arbiter, when Strathan sees him —”
“Thorne is here?” Kyle said in too excited a tone.
Taylor countered that tone by remaining calm. “When Strathan sees him, his reaction will verify Thorne’s identity.”
Kyle sat in silence. The older man gave him a few moments to digest this bombshell.
“What if Strathan is playing you?” Kyle finally asked.
Taylor smiled. “That’s why you and Ulysses will be at my side. Should he try anything, I’m sure our combined magical strength can handle him.”
Kyle looked away from Taylor. The older man added, “Weren’t you looking for an outlet for your powers? Other than vulgar displays at clubs?”
The younger man rubbed his fingers together. A small arc of electricity ran between them. “Against some goodie goodie Guardian. Not a guy I party with.”
“When you feel the power our Master Thorne gives you for obtaining the shards…”
Taylor took a sip of his drink while Kyle simmered.
“And Ulysses. You mention this to him?” the young sorcerer asked.
“Before I called you.”
Kyle looked back to Taylor. “And he’s on board?”
“He said that should Strathan offer the shards to the lodge he will support any play I make.”
Kyle thought this over, the arc of electricity flowing between all his fingers. He leaned back in his chair. A moment later, Kyle snapped his fingers, creating a bigger spark. As he leaned forward, a smile crossed his narrow face, threatening to cut it in half.
“Master Thorne has arranged a meeting with Strathan at Vanalden Cave in two hours.”
“Not with the lodge as a whole?”
“If Strathan were to talk to the lodge, he could charm his way out of any consequences. Again.”
Kyle nodded. Sitting back in his chair, he said, “Vanalden. Where we perform the initiation rituals.”
“What better place to end someone’s tenure with the Order than the place it began?”
Kyle lowered his sunglasses so he could look over the top of the lenses. Considering Kyle’s eyes, Taylor remembered Kyle wore the sunglasses at night, not because of a sense of fashion. He did so to hide the tell-tale deformity caused by his use of magic — his purple irises.
“You don’t intend to let Strathan out of there alive, do you?” Kyle asked.
Taylor finished his drink and set the empty glass on the desk.
“Is that a problem?”
Kyle responded with a smile. Electricity crackled across his teeth.
Strathan never left urban areas for a reason. Nearly spraining an ankle on the shifting rock beneath him was one of many. Then again, after dealing with those primitives back in Africa and their sacred cave crap, this nighttime hike through Santa Monica’s Vanalden Trail was tits.
After several turns (some wrong) along the trail, Strathan finally found himself at the Vanalden Cave’s mouth. The main mouth, anyway. He could see the side entrance from where he stood, but it all led to the same place, as well as he could remember. Maybe if he’d attended more of the Order’s rituals he’d be more fami
liar with the area.
Then again, when choosing between hanging out with a bunch of uptight, ritual-obsessed clods versus a bevy of scantily clad, Playboy-worthy women, the women won every time.
Strathan passed through the cave’s dark entrance. It was the perfect spot for an ambush, he mused. But an ambush would require somebody with creativity and cunning to plan it. Taylor and his Order clods didn’t have any of that. If they had, he’d already be a dead man.
Or worse.
Passing through the dirt and sandstone comprising the cave floor, Strathan saw moonlight beaming in from two large holes in the cave’s ceiling about twenty feet up. It gave the place enough light to operate if you stuck to the center of the cave. What Strathan needed was on the walls; there were still plenty of shadows there, enough to make it a creepy place.
Strathan snapped his fingers. A muddy red, ethereal flame ignited on his hand. Holding the flame to the walls, Strathan observed graffiti and other “artwork.”
Hidden among the works were runes left by Order members. They stored magical energy divined from all the souls who trafficked the area. Said energy fueled the illusion that kept those Uninitiated ball bags out of the main event.
Strathan walked the area, trying to decipher the runes from the graffiti.
The rogue sorcerer eventually found a rune he remembered. He rubbed his hand non-flaming hand along the rune, cleaning dirt away. Studying the rune, he nodded his head. He trailed his finger a few inches away from the wall, moving from hidden rune to hidden rune.
Strathan eventually stopped at a particular rune. He said an ancient phrase, then pressed his hand against the rune. A section the size of a crude door shimmered and then disappeared. Behind it lay another tunnel that went deeper into the cave.
The Order of Haroth used the cave at the end of this secret tunnel for their darkest magics, be they initiations or calling forth demons for information or power. They’d also channel the long-dead spirit of the Order’s founder, Barnabas, to ask for guidance.
Strathan entered the tunnel, guided by a trail of pre-placed LED lanterns. He always liked being fashionably late to a party. It let him make a grand entrance. Why should his meeting be any different?
He shook his hand, extinguishing his magic flame.
As he moved through the tunnel, Strathan was careful not to smear his Versace suit against any of the sandstone walls. He’d had his shag with the starlet of the hour but had another lined up for a nightcap. He had called Valentina, but she wasn’t answering. That wasn’t anything to get riled about; as a vampire pretending to be a pop star, there was no telling what she’d gotten into.
Probably already had herself a little something on the side.
Near the bottom of the winding descent, Strathan heard voices.
Down in the secret portion of the cave, Taylor looked to Kyle. He wore his headphones, bobbing his head while lost in some song. Taylor approached him, standing in front of him and looking like he had something to say. Kyle got the hint and lowered the headphones to hang at his neck. This time he was listening to a mashup of electronic noise and more conventional rock and roll.
Really, really, loudly.
“Whaddup?” Kyle asked.
“Stay alert,” Taylor said. “We don’t know when Strathan is coming nor if he’s coming ready to fight.”
“Man, long as I have my tunes and bit of battery life —” (here Kyle patted his rear jeans pockets) “We’re gonna be okay regardless of what he does.”
Taylor studied Kyle. “And how long will those batteries hold out?”
“Long enough for you guys to get Strathan topside so I can get to the geny out there.” Kyle smiled that annoying electric smile of his. Taylor figured the vulgar display of magic was something of a trademark, probably used it to impress the Uninitiated masses who attended his DJ performances.
“If you’re just a bit more patient,” the other man in the cave interjected, “you’ll have more power than you’ll know what to do with. If Strathan doesn’t kill us all first.”
That man was Ulysses Beyel, Taylor’s chief conspirator against Strathan’s irresponsible reign. Like Taylor, Ulysses was an old soul when it came to devotion to the true edicts of the Order. Strathan’s attitudes split that old soul; part of him wanted to remove Strathan through traditional channels. Luckily, Taylor convinced the part of Ulysses that could no longer tolerate Strathan’s disrespect that this was the wisest course of action.
“All this talk of power is getting me horny!”
Taylor watched Kyle and Ulysses turn toward the entrance to this secret cave beneath Vanalden Trail. He didn’t join them in their curiosity, for he instantly recognized the voice of the man entering, despite the man’s frequent absences from Order business.
Dwyer Strathan.
“So just us four?” Strathan asked.
This secret cave had enough space for the thirty or so members of the Order lodge when they held rituals here. As there were only four men here now, it felt as if they had oceans of space between them. More LED lights cast eerie shadows of the men about the walls.
Taylor grew weary of Strathan’s shenanigans.
“Are you still all bravado,” Taylor began his opening salvo, “or do you have what you claim?”
Strathan turned his thousand-watt grin on Taylor. “To the point.” He pointed at the man. “About the only thing I like about you.”
Turning from the Order sorcerer, Strathan threw his arms open to Kyle. “And this guy! Oh, we tore up the club scene a couple of times, am I right?”
For the first time, Taylor saw Kyle shrink a little into himself, the showboating DJ demurring to the alpha male celebrity.
“Yeah, but I never set it off as large as you, Dwyer,” Kyle said with an unconvincing smile. Strathan took him into an awkward embrace. Kyle sheepishly looked to Taylor. He gave the boy a slow nod; they’d suffer this fool a little while longer.
Strathan rubbed Kyle on his head, messing his tawny hair. He then set his ire on Beyel. “Ulysses! I’ll be honest. You never struck me as the type to back such a ballsy play.”
Ulysses had at least three decades on Strathan. But the man kept himself fit, the long silver hair but a cosmetic note contrasting with the orange hue of the artificially tanned skin that stretched over a rigid set of muscles visible beneath his dress shirt.
And yet Ulysses looked at Strathan as a guppy would a shark. “We’re not playing, Dwyer,” he said in as inoffensive a tone as he could muster.
Of the three true believers here, Taylor knew Ulysses as the weak link. Taylor prayed he could hold things together long enough to spring their trap.
“C’mon, U!” Strathan continued. “You’re all about tradition! Honoring the code of the Order!” Strathan waved his outstretched arms, motioning to the space around them. “A secret meeting?”
Strathan moved uncomfortably close to Ulysses. “This isn’t like you. And I’m a bit disappointed,” he said while straightening the wide collar on Ulysses’s pastel-colored shirt.
Taylor watched as the blood rushed to Ulysses’ face.
“Do you have the shards or not?” Taylor said, hoping to pull Strathan away from the weak-willed Ulysses before he said or did anything damning.
Strathan lowered his head for a moment. “So rude, when me an’ Uly are having a moment,” he said. The rogue sorcerer thumped Ulysses’ barrel chest with his hand. He then tapped his temple with a finger. “Smart move, staying out of my head with yer powers, Uly. Smarter than being here with this lot.”
Strathan turned to Taylor. He threw up his arms in a showman’s pose. “Ask any starlet in Hollywood; Dwyer Strathan delivers the goods.” He waved his hand. The lacquered box from his dimensional closet appeared, floating in the air at eye level between him and Taylor, but closer to him. Strathan moved his hand in front of the box as if he were a spokesmodel presenting the latest item up for bid.
All three Order sorcerers looked at Strathan’s floating box as if i
t were an object that shouldn’t exist. Noting their apprehension, Strathan threw up his hands in a defensive posture and backed away from the box.
“Go ahead boys,” he urged. “Unlike my girl Val, it won’t bite.”
Taylor exchanged a suspicious glance with Ulysses. They both turned their gaze to Kyle. Feeling the allegorical heat from both men, Kyle threw up his hands. “Fine!” He moved toward the box.
“Reason they have you step forward is so they can put their daggers in yer back,” Strathan warned.
Kyle stopped halfway to the box. He looked to Strathan, then to Ulysses and finally Taylor. Neither Order sorcerer looked him in the eye. Kyle frowned. He stood his ground and crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“So if I open this box and we find the shards inside,” he began.
“There had better be three shards, Strathan,” Taylor insisted.
“If they’re in there,” Kyle cut in, “what happens then?”
“Now you’re learning the game,” Strathan said with a wry smile.
Taylor shuffled his feet. Nodding at the box, he said, “Let’s see what’s in there.”
“Her pretty little head,” Strathan said.
The other men looked at him curiously. He shook his head in disbelief.
“For movie guys, how can you miss —” Off the other men’s blank stares, Strathan threw up his hands. He turned to Kyle. “Go ahead already.”
Kyle uncrossed his arms and approached the box. He moved to open it, but Strathan quickly moved forward and caught his hand, stopping him.
Strathan looked to Taylor. “The boy did pose a good question, though.”
Taylor met Strathan’s accusing glare. “If the shards are inside and indeed genuine —”
“Oh, they are,” Strathan said in a lover’s whisper.
“You will get what you deserve,” Taylor finished.
Judging from the scowl on Strathan’s face, that wasn’t the response he wanted to hear.
For Taylor’s part, it was not a lie. It was enough to give Taylor the strength to hold Strathan’s gaze. Seeing that the Order vanguard would neither back down nor be intimidated, Strathan released Kyle’s hand. He stepped away from him and the box, placing them in a central spot between him and the other sorcerers.
