The Balance Omnibus

by Alan Baxter

  As the thought of Him passed through his mind the Sorcerer took a deep, shuddering breath. He would not be well pleased if He got another report that the child was yet to arrive; they must arrive tonight. Still staring at the leaping flames the Sorcerer said, ‘Braden, tell me exactly the message you received today.’

  Braden and Colley had been sitting in silence since the Sorcerer’s earlier admonition. Braden sat forward. ‘It was very brief, Dominus. It was a phone call that simply said, “Arrive England tonight. At base by midnight. Child safe.” Then the phone was hung up.’

  The Sorcerer nodded. ‘Well, how long till midnight?’

  ‘It’s just gone eleven now, Sir,’ Colley piped up. ‘I’ve been watching the time.’

  Again the Sorcerer nodded, wincing at Colley’s puppy-like desire to please. He was a typical old English fruit, loved his Noel Coward and his jazz music and he drove the Sorcerer to distraction. But to get the house he had needed Braden, and Colley and Braden were a package.

  As he thought this a tingling sensation swept over him and he stood. Braden and Colley looked up, surprised. ‘Someone is coming,’ the Sorcerer said. ‘Get the basement opened up.’

  Braden and Colley cast nervous glances at each other. ‘Excellent,’ Braden said, rubbing his hands together. ‘At last the fun begins!’

  Colley chuckled. ‘So true, my dear chap!’

  The Sorcerer whipped up one arm, the sleeve of his heavy coat swinging in an arc, and thrust his open palm towards the two men. With cries of surprise and pain the two of them stumbled backwards, falling over their chairs, felled by a powerful, invisible force. ‘Just do it!’ the Sorcerer roared. He strode over to the two prone men and leaned over them, holding his palms out, fingers spread. Colley and Braden clutched their heads, groaning and gasping. The Sorcerer’s voice was quiet, menacing. ‘I am sick of your Scooby Doo antics. This is very real and before long you two are going to find out just how real it is. Now move!’ With the last word, he released his psychic grip on the two lovers and turned on his heel, strode from the room. The men, stunned and wide eyed, scrambled to their feet, ran from the library and down the hall.

  The Sorcerer walked to the front door, his long coat floating out behind him. The door was heavy oak, banded and studded, set in an arch of red brick. The house itself was relatively small, only four bedrooms along with the library, dining area, lounge, kitchen and bathrooms, though each room was large and high-ceilinged. But the house also had a marvellous, huge old fashioned cellar. While Braden and Colley rushed to unlock the cellar and get candles and lamps lit, the Sorcerer opened the door.

  Wind gusted in, a light sleet blowing sideways across the front of the broad porch. A small wooden bench ran down each side, like the entrance to an old church, a steel boot scraper in the shape of a cat arching its back secured into the red tile floor. The Sorcerer winced against the gale as he stared out into the driving sleet. He could feel them out there. It would not be long before he saw and heard them too. The driveway to the house was a long, twisting gravel road that came from the main road some two kilometres through oak and beech trees. There was a surprising amount of forest throughout the grounds of this estate considering the place was almost totally isolated in the middle of rolling moors. At least, isolated by English standards. The only vehicle access to the house was along the winding drive from the small road. That road led to a small village east about six kilometres and the other way to a main road some eight kilometres away. That main road led eventually to the walled city of York.

  Yellow lights cut a watery glow through the rain and trees as a car came into view along the drive. The sound of the engine was lost in the howling wind and the staccato beat of the sleet on the slate tile roof. The car, a small rented hatchback with a company logo on the door, pulled right up to the house. Two men got out, one carrying a large sports holdall, the other carrying a wrapped bundle close to his chest, bending over it to protect it from the weather. The Sorcerer stepped back and let the two men into the hallway.

  ‘Well done, my boys,’ the Sorcerer said, holding out his hands.

  The man with the bundle gingerly unwrapped some of the covering and handed the tiny child over. His rugged, unshaven face showed no small relief at unburdening himself. He nodded at the Sorcerer and shot a quick half-smile at his partner.

  The Sorcerer held the child and looked down into its face. ‘So tiny,’ he murmured, ‘just hours from the womb.’ He looked up, his face splitting in a wide grin. ‘Well done, Jake, Chris. You will be rewarded for your efforts.’

  ‘I’m just glad to have finally handed you that child,’ Jake said smiling. ‘Service to Him is reward enough for both of us.’

  Chris nodded agreement, looking at the child with hard eyes.

  ‘The two pricks that own this place, they still around?’ Jake asked.

  The Sorcerer smiled. ‘They are, and they’re serving a purpose. But perhaps it’s time that they served their final purpose. After all, this child looks hungry to me. You haven’t fed it anything?’

  Jake shook his head. ‘We followed your instructions to the letter. But it looks very weak and it’s been getting quieter and less active over the last few hours. I was worried that it might die.’

  ‘It might, Jake, especially if we don’t move quickly. But this is no ordinary child.’ The Sorcerer stopped talking and looked up at the ceiling, eyes glazed, his mouth slightly open. After a moment he took a quick breath, wincing. ‘Yes, yes, of course,’ he said, still looking upwards. His eyes swung back to Jake and Chris. ‘We must hurry. Chris, in the library there is a manila folder. Jake, come with me.’

  The Sorcerer turned and strode purposefully along the hallway. Under the stairs, just before the kitchen door, another large wooden door stood ajar. Watery light leaked out around its edges. The Sorcerer pulled it open and started down the worn stone steps into the cellar, Jake close behind him. A moment later Chris followed, carrying a pale beige folder in one large, rough hand.

  The cellar had a relatively high ceiling, easily enough for Jake and Chris to stand up to their full height, each of them over six feet tall. The floor was of heavy flagstones, with brick pillars throughout, supporting the house above. Several sections of the cellar had been partitioned off in one way or another over the years, making small rooms and closets. One area was reserved for a wine collection, dust covered bottles laying like ranks of old soldiers. The Sorcerer led the way through the cellar, until it opened up into one large room. Small oil lamps lit the way, but here huge black candles burned, their wax dropping and coiling into mesmerising shapes and puddles. Along one side of the room was a large wooden cabinet, with an array of objects on top, daggers, old manuscripts, bottles, jars. In the middle of the room lay a large stone sarcophagus, its sides carved with intricate swirling patterns. The lid was removed, stood up against the wall behind. Inside the sarcophagus was lined with a deep red silk. A black cushion was pressed into one end.

  Braden and Colley, wrapped in heavy coats, turned as the others entered, candle tapers in their hands. ‘It’s all ready,’ Braden said. ‘It’s cold as Iceland down here, but all the candles are lit. Perhaps we can run some extension cords down from upstairs and plug in some radiators or bar heaters to warm this place up.’

  The Sorcerer stood staring at the stone coffin, his mouth twisted in a sneer of disgust. ‘What the fuck is that?’

  Braden and Colley exchanged a nervous glance. Behind the Sorcerer, Jake and Chris chuckled. ‘Er...’ Braden stammered. ‘What’s what?’

  ‘The bedsheets and pillow in the fucking coffin!’ the Sorcerer roared.

  Colley stepped forward, his face white, his hands locked together in front of his chest. ‘It was me, sir, I put them there. I made the pillow myself. I thought that some comfort wouldn’t go astray in that cold, stone coffin.’

  The Sorcerer handed the child to Jake, then turned to face Colley. ‘You thought? Hmm? You see, that’s the problem, Colley. You think a lot, but you
don’t listen so well. Did I ask you to line the damn thing with teenage goth silk bedclothes?’ Colley’s mouth opened and closed, his whole body trembling. The Sorcerer leaned to within an inch of his nose. ‘Did I?’ he bellowed.

  Colley staggered backwards. ‘No, sir, you didn’t. I’m sorry, I...’ His words cut off with a dull thud as the back of the Sorcerer’s hand whipped across his face. He spun and fell to his hands and knees, whimpering as blood trailed off his already swelling lip.

  Braden stepped forward, his eyes wide. ‘I say, Dominus...’ He never finished his sentence as the Sorcerer’s gaze drilled into his eyes.

  The Sorcerer dragged Colley up by his collar and pushed him toward the sarcophagus. ‘Take it all away, you idiot. I’m getting so sick of you two and your parlour games. You read some Aleister Crowley and some ancient Wiccan texts and think you know all about dark forces. You think you can become great evil wizards and bend men to your will. What happened the first time you tried to summon a demon? Huh? What happened?’ Braden stared at the floor as Colley kept his back to the Sorcerer. ‘Just as well I happened to be around to bail you out, isn’t it? And still you play your stupid games! You’re an embarrassment to our Order.’

  Colley dragged all the silk and the pillow from the stone coffin. He scuttled away with it, still whimpering, the back of one hand pressed against his mouth. The Sorcerer took the child back from Jake and laid it down in the coffin. He pulled aside the blankets that wrapped it and looked down at the tiny, frail form. It was very still, its skin pale, chalky. Its eyes were half open, its mouth working feebly. ‘I think he really is hungry,’ the Sorcerer said. His focus completely on the baby he muttered softly under his breath, old, powerful words. The child’s eyes opened, staring into the Sorcerer’s own, its tiny hands clutching at the air between them.

  As Colley slunk back into the room the Sorcerer turned to face Braden. Keeping his eyes on Braden he reached toward Chris, who handed him the folder. ‘So, Braden,’ the Sorcerer said. ‘You are well aware of our task. I have educated you in the power of our Lord, educated you in the untold chaos that we will unleash on this world through our efforts?’

  Braden nodded vigorously, his face enraptured. ‘Oh yes, Dominus. I believe and I will serve!’

  The Sorcerer smiled. ‘Good. Prove your faith. Sign these.’ He handed Braden the folder.

  ‘What’s this?’

  ‘The deeds and titles to your house and estates. The papers attached have been prepared by the best lawyers. Once you sign and I sign, and Jake here witnesses the signatures, this whole estate will belong to me.’

  Braden’s mouth fell open. ‘But this is my family estate. It’s belonged my family for centuries.’

  The Sorcerer’s smile was evil. ‘Then what better symbol of your undying commitment to our cause?’

  Braden stood trembling, his eyes wild. ‘I don’t know, Dominus. I am here to help you in every way. I have offered my old family home for your use. The meetings we had here were marvellous. But it’s my home, Dominus, my family home. I can’t just sign it away.’

  The Sorcerer remained quiet while Braden rambled. Eventually, taking a step forward, he said quietly, ‘You can’t?’

  Braden shook, his face as white as one of his bone china dinner plates. ‘I... I don’t want to!’

  The Sorcerer laughed out loud, his head tipping backwards. His laughter stopped dead and he spun to face Colley, one hand stretched out. He turned his hand over, his fingers curling in, his lips silently mouthing hideous words. Colley slapped both hands to either side of his head, crying out in pain. ‘No! No, stop!’

  Braden dropped the folder, ran to his lover’s side, tears in his eyes, staring at the Sorcerer. ‘What are you doing? Leave him alone!’

  ‘Sign the papers.’

  ‘You bastard, you can’t do this!’

  The Sorcerer laughed again. ‘Really? Why not? You thought you wanted a life of evil. You wanted a life of chaos and suffering. Well, now you’re right in the middle of it. Sign the papers.’

  Colley dropped to his knees, blood trickling from his ears and nose. Braden dropped down beside him. ‘Stop it, for Christ’s sake, stop it! You’re hurting him!’

  The Sorcerer grinned. ‘For Christ’s sake? Now that’s not who you pray to is it? And I’m not hurting him. I’m killing him.’

  Colley fell forward, his voice rising in pitch as he howled in pain, his hands pressing against his head as though he were trying to crush it himself. Braden scrambled on hands and knees to the folder and whipped it open. ‘All right, I’ll sign! Please let him go.’

  The Sorcerer dropped his hand and Colley collapsed face forward onto the cold flagstone floor, gasping. ‘That’s better.’ He threw a pen down to Braden, who signed the papers with a shaking hand. With pure malice in his eyes, he handed the folder back. The Sorcerer passed it to Chris. ‘We’ll countersign and witness that later, all right, Jake?’

  Jake nodded, throwing a grin at Chris. ‘Sure thing.’

  Braden was on his knees beside Colley, cradling his lover’s head in his lap. ‘What have you done to him?’

  The Sorcerer strode over and dragged Colley up by his collar. He looked over at Jake. ‘Hold onto Braden, will you?’

  Jake took hold of Braden’s arm with one huge, meaty hand. Braden looked at his arm, held in a vice-like grip, then back at the Sorcerer. ‘What are you doing?’

  The Sorcerer took a deep breath as he dragged Colley over to the head of the sarcophagus. ‘Quite frankly, you fucking freak, I’m sick and tired of you and your faggot lover here. Plus, you’ve almost served your purpose.’

  Braden began to shake violently, clawing at Jake’s hand. Jake cuffed him across the chin, stunning him slightly. ‘What are you going to do?’ Braden wailed.

  Colley was uncertain on his feet as the Sorcerer stood him over the end of the coffin. Pressing Colley’s hips against the cold stone, the Sorcerer bent him over, holding onto the back of his collar with one hand. Colley’s head was suspended over the child. A bead of blood from Colley’s nose dripped onto the child’s face and the child’s eyes opened wide for an instant, its mouth gasping. Standing behind Colley, holding him in place, the Sorcerer looked at Braden with a sneer. ‘Is this how you fuck him? Bent over a coffin?’

  Braden tried to spit at the Sorcerer, his face a mask of hatred. ‘Fuck you! What are you doing?’

  The Sorcerer reached into the pocket of his heavy coat with his free hand. Colley struggled weakly, trying to stand up straight, his hands grasping at the sides of the coffin. The Sorcerer pulled a bright steel knife from his pocket, candle light reflecting silver-yellow off its six inch blade. Braden cried out, incomprehensible. ‘What am I doing?’ the Sorcerer asked. ‘I’m feeding the baby.’

  With one swift motion the blade swept around and straight across Colley’s thin, pale throat. Blood poured from the broad gash in an arterial flood, showering over the child. The Sorcerer muttered the words of his magic, holding tightly as Colley bucked once, twice, before collapsing limp. As Braden screamed the baby stretched its arms into the waterfall of blood, clutching and grasping at the hot, red fluid. The blood poured over the child and into his mouth and the child gulped and gurgled. Little arms and legs squirmed and writhed, his small body arching up into the flow, drinking deeply, the movement of the newborn unnatural. ‘He entered this world in a bath of his virgin mother’s lifeblood,’ the Sorcerer whispered, ‘and his first meal is swallowed from the bloodbath of another. We begin here the creation of untold power.’

  After a moment more it was over, the Sorcerer throwing Colley’s body off to one side. Braden was sobbing, wringing his hands as he tried in vain to break Jake’s grasp to get to his dead lover.

  The Sorcerer looked around. ‘Chris, take the corpse outside and dispose of it, would you?’

  Chris nodded. ‘Sure. I’ll get something to roll it up in.’ He turned and trotted from the room.

  ‘Jake, tie this fuckwit up and gag him. Tie him
up tight. The child will need to feed often.’ The Sorcerer leaned down and stared into Braden’s terrified eyes. ‘I told you it was no ordinary child. It was born in blood and it will have a lot more before we’re done here. You and your lover should be proud of the service you’re providing.’

  The Sorcerer turned and strode from the room, leaving Jake to tie and gag Braden. In the stone coffin, the baby boy gurgled happily as it wriggled and squirmed in the puddle of blood soaking the blanket almost to blackness. Slowly, the blood seemed to soak into the child, absorbed through its skin. Its eyes closed and it settled quietly.

  Isiah crouched among foliage once more, his aura solidly masked. The filthy stranger stood by a battered old Ford, searching in his voluminous coat pockets. Isiah couldn’t help sniggering as he watched the man become more frustrated by the moment. He had spent a few minutes already searching. Isiah could only imagine that it was his car keys that he had lost. The dirt road, dust and gravel with pot holes like small ponds after the rains, led for about five kilometres from the road to this point, then became a walking track for another kilometre before reaching the Sorcerer’s house. Isiah had easily and silently followed the man to his car, but following the car once he got it open might prove more difficult, especially when he got out onto the open road. The man let out a growling exhalation, staring in through the driver’s door window, fists planted on his hips. Isiah suppressed another laugh. Looks like Filthy’s locked his keys in his car! It was a wonder that he had bothered to lock the car at all, so far from anywhere. Such were the habits of modern living.

  Filthy stood staring in the window for a minute, then turned and began searching the ground. After a moment he bent down and picked up a long, gnarled stick from the wet gravel. It snapped within seconds of being inserted in the gap between the window and door skin. Isiah settled back on his heels comfortably, preparing to enjoy the show.