by Alan Baxter
‘We are people who desire something more. We work towards realising and exercising our own free will. We know that only through blood is anything gained. And that doesn’t mean that we have to spill blood in the streets, though sometimes we just might do that!’ Frank smiled and a quiet chuckle rippled through the crowd. Frank paused long enough to make the silence after the laughter just a little bit uncomfortable. ‘We need to follow our hearts and sow a little social disorder. We need to make waves in the still pond of apathy and dedicate our efforts to Yath-vados Himself. When we manage to shake enough numbness from the bones of society, we will see Yath-vados rise again and take the world to new heights.
‘However, we know that anything worth having comes from sacrifice. That sacrifice might be the loss of our comforts, it might be walking away from a cushy job, it might be disowning parents or partners that would stand in the way of our ideals. Or it might be the spilling of our blood or the blood of others for our magic.’
Frank drew himself up taller and took a deep breath. ‘Our Order is somewhat unique in that we haven’t given up on the old ways. We haven’t lost sight of our power and watered down our rituals. Our power, our magic, is real. It’s not something to be trifled with or taken in vain, but it is something that gives us enormous potential. Tonight I will show you something of that power. For those of you that don’t believe that there really is something beyond and above us that we pray to, let me show you the truth. For those of you that enjoy our anarchy, yet doubt the holy nature of our mission, let me show you a little something of Yath-vados Himself!’
A subtle intake of breath passed through the gathered crowd, people looking at each other, eyebrows raised. Frank paused, letting the people take in what he had said. Eventually he raised a hand and silence settled over the group like a silk sheet. ‘I need someone to help me. Perhaps someone that has doubts?’ He was looking directly towards the back of the room and Isiah would have bet that he was looking at the two young men that had entered first. Perhaps he intended to make something of an example of them. All this talk of blood and sacrifice had Isiah worried.
Heads in the crowd turned, necks craning to see who was being singled out. There was some muttering and scuffling. Eventually one of the young metal fans stood, the bolder of the two. He looked sheepish. Frank grinned like a wolf. ‘Excellent! Thank you, son, come forward.’
The boy approached the altar nervously. As he did so, Frank asked, ‘What name and rank, Brother?’
‘Er... Scott. Neophyte.’ The boys words were barely audible. ‘This is only my second visit,’ he added. ‘I only Initiated last week.’
Frank nodded reassuringly. ‘No problem. You will like this!’
‘You’re not going to hurt me, are you?’
A ripple of laughter passed through the crowd at Scott’s words. Some of the crowd looked nervous for him, others almost predatory in their excitement. Dan smiled softly. Frank held out his hand to Scott and guided him to sit on the altar, then gently laid him back. Scott glanced at the gathered crowd, then back up at Frank’s face, now looming above him. Frank patted Scott’s forehead. ‘I’m going to draw just a little of your blood, Scott, but don’t fear. You know from your Initiation that we always spill blood. I’m going to use you as a channel and you’ll have the best seat in the house for tonight’s demonstration.’
Scott was trembling, yet he took a deep breath. He appeared to have made the sudden decision to suck up whatever was before him. He had pride and was determined not to give in to his fear. Besides, as he had mentioned earlier, he considered all this a little bit hokey. Isiah was afraid that the boy’s views were about to change dramatically.
‘You will all know from your Initiations that our magic is shared slowly. You saw it at your Initiation. Those of you that have gained the First Degree and higher have started to learn to use it. However, rarely, beyond the Initiation, will Neophytes and Prospects see the manifestation of our powers and faith. In many ways, that is one of your first tests, to persevere regardless.’ Frank’s voice was soft, yet it carried through the room with dramatic power. Isiah felt the subtle hint of fresh MageSign. Frank was already manipulating energy, drawing upon his talent.
‘However, sometimes it may be required to remind you all of the kind of strength we command!’ Frank grinned as he spoke this time, his voice rising. With a flourish he grabbed young Scott’s arm and lifted it, jerking him across the altar. Frank’s other hand flashed into view, his shining knifeblade reflecting the candlelight. Scott cried out in surprise and fear. Frank raised his eyes, staring across the crowd as he held his blade and Scott’s hand aloft. His eyes were narrowed, expression mean.
Isiah carefully let his mind creep out from hiding, just a little. With Frank’s activity he could afford to let his consciousness scan briefly through the room. He was already aware, to some degree, of the kind of power that Filthy Frank had. He could also feel the strength in Dan as this group’s leader stood back, smiling slyly. Isiah could also feel what it was that Frank was doing with his mind while he spoke. Every other mind in the room was being rendered just slightly soporific by Frank, his magic raising dopamine levels in their brains and at the same time causing them to feel sleepy. In effect, he was causing a mild euphoric hypnosis over everyone present with the power of his will. It was a simple enough trick to someone with talent. But what was that thing with the blood rite earlier? Something more pervasive was done to each member individually then.
‘Let the power of Yath-vados be seen!’ Frank cried. He slapped the flat of his broad knife across Scott’s palm and shifted his grip on the boy’s hand. With his hand wrapping over Scott’s he squeezed, causing Scott to close his grip over the knife. ‘Be strong, Scott! Believe in the power of the Novus Omnipotens. His knuckles whitened as he squeezed harder. Scott moaned loudly as the blade bit into his palm and blood began to trickle past his thumb, over his wrist, running in quick rivulets down his forearm.
Isiah retracted his mind, cloaking himself once more as the evidence of magic in the room rose exponentially with the release of Scott’s blood. Just like Samuel, you only really believe in your own power when the blood flows, eh, Filthy?
Frank was breathing heavily, his eyes slightly rolled up as he worked his spell. His mouth was moving as he muttered, incanted. Isiah couldn’t hear the words but he had little doubt that it was the same guttural, visceral language that he had heard Samuel Harrigan using whenever he worked this foul blood magic. ‘Yath-vados!’ Frank yelled, his voice echoing off the walls. ‘Yath-vados! By your will and mine, visit us.’
The sudden and distinct shimmer of RealmShift appeared in the air above Scott, accompanied by a coppery, sulphurous taste and scent. Shit, he’s really summoning something! Isiah thought, genuinely surprised.
Through the haze of RealmShift a dark, nebulous cloud began to form. The others in the room were excited and uncomfortable in their seats, some looking terrified, some exultant. All were pinned in place by Frank’s earlier ministrations to their minds, combined with their desire to be a part of this. The dark cloud surged and rolled, almost obscuring Frank though not completely opaque. As ripples and swirls ran through it a shape began to coalesce. The shape gained features, indistinct and generic, yet unmistakably a face. People in the room gasped and grinned. The face gained more substance, the air became charged, static, energised. The mouth gaped open, uncannily wide, and a howl vomited forth morphing into maniacal laughter, deafening, palpable. Some people in the crowd tried to lean back or move from their seats, shying away, their eyes wild.
The laughter became a word. ‘Cruor! Cruooooor....’ The word drew out into a howl like a hurricane, the sound manifesting physically, whipping at the curtains around the room and at people’s clothes. Scott’s long hair whipped about his head as he lay, terrified, held fast by Frank, beneath the black maelstrom. The wind increased, screeching through the small space then, in an instant, it was gone.
The curtains fell still, Scott’s hair
dropped across his face and the energy of RealmShift vanished with a subtle pop, air filling a vacuum. Silence, but for Scott’s laboured breathing, settled over the room.
Isiah sat back on his haunches in the shadows, truly disturbed. Who the hell was that? If only he could have cast his mind out, felt for some clue as to the identity of whatever it was that Frank had just summoned, but that would have given him away completely. His mind would have shone out like a lighthouse on a moonless night to all those in the room with talent, including the creature summoned. There was no way he could have taken that risk. There was something much larger than he had ever anticipated going on here and if he was going to learn about it he needed to move very carefully.
Dan approached Frank and handed him gauze and a bandage. Between them they dressed Scott’s palm, a shallow slice from one side to the other. Scott stared, wide-eyed, saying nothing. The gathered crowd watched silently too. Once Scott’s hand was bandaged Frank leaned forward and kissed him, almost lovingly, on the forehead. As he stood up straight again he coaxed Scott up into a sitting position. Scott sat, shakily, letting his legs swing over the side of the altar so that he perched on its edge. Frank smiled broadly at the crowd before him.
‘Brother Scott, though just a Neophyte at his second Gather, has enabled wonder for all of us tonight!’ Frank’s hypnotic effect had drained from the room and the gathered people whooped and clapped, their excitement and fear given a route for expression. Scott looked around the crowd, a manic smile playing at the corners of his mouth. ‘Do you still think us hokey?’ Frank asked him.
‘Not really,’ Scott replied, laughing nervously. The others laughed too, clapping vigorously once more.
‘Go on back to your seat, son,’ Frank said. As Scott got up and walked to the back of the room, accepting occasional pats and nods from other members, Frank said, ‘It is easy to doubt the reality of what we do sometimes. While we all believe strongly in our ideals, it is sometimes difficult to believe with equal conviction in Yath-vados. He will make everything we desire come about, if we have faith in Him. Remember that.
‘Remember also that the people who would tell you to forget your allegiance to the Ordo Novus Cruor are your enemy. They are the kind of people that will remain trapped by society. They are the kind that would hinder your growth. If they won’t join in our ways, leave them by the side of the road and continue your journey without them.
‘Also leave behind those that you know will never understand what we do. The police and the teachers, the people that think us dangerous. Let not their fear undermine your journey. They don’t need to know what it is that makes you whole. Our secrets must be protected so that our destiny can be achieved.’
Frank let his gaze drift back and forth across the crowd. Some were nodding, smiling, others sitting quite still, almost expressionless. ‘How many here are Neophytes?’ Frank asked. A few hands raised, one heavily bandaged. ‘And how many Prospects?’ Another half a dozen or so hands raised. Frank nodded. ‘Good. For those Neophytes, think hard now what you will do to prove yourself. What will you do to become a Prospect? For those Prospects, never forget that what you have done so far is just the beginning. Stay true, serve your time and your invite to the First Degree will not be long in coming.’
Frank clapped his hands together. He repeated the mantra of the Order. ‘By blood are all things living empowered and by blood is all change effected. Nothing worthwhile is ever born without blood. Through our ministry will Yath-vados rise. Through our efforts will the world be born anew. We will ensure the New Ascendance. We mean no harm to those that don’t follow, though we will encourage all to believe. We will go about our Will and oppose any that would oppose us. If it means their blood, so be it!’
The members were more emphatic in their response than ever. ‘So be it!’
‘Yath-vados empower you.’
‘We believe in the blood.’
Frank grinned, empowered himself by the faith and energy he received back. ‘Cruor Novus Sempiterna Omnipotens!’
The crowd shouted now, their voices raucous. ‘Cruor Novus Sempiterna Omnipotens!’
Frank nodded, looking around the room with glittering eyes. ‘There ends the general Gather.’ He looked to Dan.
Dan nodded, taking his place. ‘Brothers and Sisters, tonight has been a special night indeed. Please, thank Optimates Cruor Frank!’ The gathered crowd clapped and cheered and Frank smiled benignly, lowering his head in a slight bow. Dan called more loudly over the applause. ‘Those First Degree and above, let us move into Sanctum.’
There was a shift in volume as the applause gave way to the massed movement of people and the rise of dozens of varied conversations. Dan’s partner moved to the side of the stairs and guided the Neophytes and Prospects of the group back up, presumably to escort them out. Dan and Frank stepped back and pulled aside the curtain behind the altar to reveal another door, leading further back into the cellar. Isiah didn’t need to expend energy to feel that this door was heavily protected with magical wards of several kinds. As the remaining members of the group made their way into the room beyond Isiah cursed. There was no way that he would be able to pass into that room in any guise without being noticed. Whatever this group was all about, the really serious activity among its more established members would take place in there and he would have to wait to learn more about that.
Resignedly he scurried through the shadows and hopped up the steps, slipping through with the last of those leaving the meeting. Going back the way he had come he slipped his astral self out of the old rat’s body. It was like finally being able to stretch after spending hours locked in a cupboard. The rat awoke and shook itself, then went on about its business, oblivious. Isiah slipped up through the road and into the street in front of the house. It looked so unassuming and irrelevant from the outside. The last of the group was leaving, the front door closing behind them. Isiah saw Scott and his friend talking animatedly as they walked across the road, looking excitedly at Scott’s bandaged hand.
Isiah sighed as he watched. He had come away from there with more questions than answers. As he thought this his eyes drifted up and he caught sight of movement on the roof of the building. Immediately alert, his preternatural vision made out a figure in the shadows near the eaves. Just as his eyes focussed, the figure noticed him too. For a fraction of a second they were both frozen, staring at one another. Isiah was stunned. I’m astral, how can they see me? Then, with the speed and agility of a cat, the figure leapt up and over the peak of the roof. Isiah shot up through the air, trying to gain a clearer physical and psychic image of the person. As he reached the air above the roof the person was gone, vanished.
He was intrigued. Someone extremely adept, physically and mentally, it would seem. They had been able to see his astral self and they had been able to physically outrun him in that form. There weren’t many that could do such a thing. It certainly hadn’t been a vampire or lycanthrope, he was certain of that. Their presence was like a bad odour in a closed room and equally hard to conceal. It seemed to be human, but there was something most unusual about it. And whoever they were, they were also spying on this Ordo Novus Cruor gathering.
Questions stacked upon questions as Isiah made his way back to his physical self concealed in the shadows on the back seat of his car. He smiled crookedly. This was damned frustrating, but it might be fun too.
4
Dawn was long past and the morning was drawing towards the afternoon, but it still appeared to be night outside. The wind and the rain continued unabated, leafless trees whipping back and forth. Raindrops mixed with slushy hail, beating a random rhythm on the old glass panes of the house on Braden Estate, rat-a-tat-tat with a howling vocal. The leaden darkness of the sky was oppressive, blotting out what little watery winter sun there might be. A fire crackling in the huge hearth did little to dissipate the cold in the large room.
The Sorcerer stood at the window, hands buried in the voluminous sleeves of the large coat h
e wore. Whatever was under the coat was rarely revealed. Dark trousers and ancient looking leather shoes protruded from its hem. Its many deep pockets contained all the things most precious to him. Its thick fabric and high collar were his shield against the world outside and the imbeciles that populated it. The coat hung heavily from his tall, skeletal frame, doing little to disguise his lack of physical bulk. He was a tall and powerful man, but his strength did not lay in the size of his muscles or his athleticism. He was old and worn. Older and more worn than any of those around him could fathom and he felt older still. And he was tired. But he had purpose. And for the first time in decades he felt a sense of dread. He couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by it on occasion, like a tiny, broken dinghy being thrown inexorably along on the crest of a massive, rolling wave. He trembled just slightly.
Then it came again. The voice. Hissing and sliding in his ears, but from the inside out. Like animated corpses clawing through soft mud to the world above, the words oozed through his mind and sounded in his ears and in his brain, whispering, cajoling, teasing, flirting. With a gasp and flinch the Sorcerer’s head tipped back, his mouth falling open. He sucked in air as he stared towards the ceiling, his face contorting, nodding tiny, vigorous nods. ‘Of course, of course,’ he said, his voice husky, rasping. A manic laugh escaped his lips and his body shook, a shiver running from head to toes. ‘Yes, yes. It will be!’
