by Alan Baxter
Isiah drew his energy deep into his core and pulsed out a wave of power. His attacker managed to shield themselves mentally just in time at the expense of their hold. Isiah twisted out of the grip, spun around, grabbed under the knee that had been in his back and threw the person up and over. They twisted in the air like a cat and landed on all fours, hands and feet splayed wide and stable. Their position and shape suddenly coalesced the thought that had been tapping at the edges of Isiah’s mind while he fought. A woman!
As the thought occurred to him, the woman leapt forward again. With energy flowing out before her she knocked Isiah back mentally and physically and rained blows across his shoulder and arm as he defended his head. By the gods, she’s strong! He had to end this now. He took a risk and let one blow through. The crack across his jaw sounded like a gunshot and made his vision cross, but it was enough. As the woman moved to take advantage of the blow he anticipated her movement and intercepted. His own blow was solid and crushing, knocking her head to one side with a crack and upsetting her momentum. As she stumbled, Isiah helped her down with a kick to one thigh and a second palm into her chest. She grunted in pain and fell. Isiah dropped with her, all his considerable weight over her, laid one forearm across her throat. He knelt across her hips, sinking his weight to prevent her from bucking him off or kicking up between his legs, and raised his free hand. Blue energy crackled and burned between his fingers like electricity, snaking across his open palm.
‘Who are you?’ the woman cried.
‘I was going to ask you the same question,’ Isiah replied, panting. ‘But you chose attempted murder, so the question had to wait.’
‘You’re not with them?’
‘With who?’
‘Them.’ The woman flicked her eyes towards the fence they had jumped. Her eyes were the most magnificent glacial blue. ‘The ONC.’ She had an accent. Eastern European of some sort.
Isiah shook his head. ‘No. And neither are you. We have more in common than you think, so perhaps we should start again. I don’t want to hurt you.’
‘It’s a bit late for that!’ She sounded as if she had something in her mouth
‘Not my fault. You started it.’
‘You lifted my cover and started chasing me. What was I supposed to do?’ Her eyes flashed angrily through the slit in her hood.
Isiah smiled grimly. ‘We could have talked from a distance. You didn’t have to start so violently. I’m going to let you up. We’re on the same side, right? No need to fight any more?’
‘Sure.’
Isiah raised one eyebrow. ‘Seriously! If you start off again when I let go, I’m going to thrash you. I’d barely warmed up before.’
The fire in the woman’s eyes burned on for a moment, then Isiah saw it fade. She relaxed underneath him. ‘You are powerful. No one has beaten me before.’
Isiah made a rueful face. ‘I’m sorry. That would really suck. But at least you’ll live to fight again. Most people that I beat don’t have that luxury.’
‘Fair enough. Let’s talk.’
Isiah lifted his weight and moved aside letting the woman rise to a sitting position. As she sat up she put a hand to her jaw, then whipped it away. The pain in her eyes was heartbreaking. Isiah reached out. ‘Here, let me.’ The woman watched warily as Isiah touched his fingers lightly to her chin. He felt inside, his mind probing through skin and flesh. The jaw bone was fractured in two places. He let his energy flow through his fingers, painstakingly reknitting the fragmented bone. The woman’s eyes drilled into him as he worked. After a few minutes he sat back. ‘There. I’m sorry, that was quite a blow. I’m surprised it didn’t knock you out.’
‘I’m strong.’ She gingerly fingered her jaw line as she spoke, her voice normal again.
Isiah laughed. ‘No shit!’
He saw the woman’s eyes smile. ‘You’re very good at healing. I can barely feel it any more.’
‘You need anything else fixed?’
‘Nothing I can’t handle myself.’
‘Okay. So, why do you like to hang out on the roof over there? It was you last night as well, right?’
The woman nodded. ‘Yes. Did you get inside? Did you see their rituals?’
‘Some. Not all.’
‘How did you manage in that form? They would have spotted you in a instant.’
‘I wasn’t in that form inside. But I only saw the opening part of the meeting. After that they went into a sealed room and I couldn’t have gone in there without being discovered.’
The woman nodded. ‘Yes. You left with the Neophytes and Prospects.’
Isiah raised an eyebrow. ‘I heard those terms. What do they mean?’
‘How much do you know of this society?’
‘Very little. I’ve only just discovered them. I’m trying to track down their leader.’
The woman laughed. ‘Really? You have no idea what you’re up against here, do you?’ She looked at Isiah intensely, her eyes narrowed. ‘Could you be...?’
‘Could I be what?’ Isiah had a flash of realisation. ‘Oh, fuck! I was watching the house to see Frank leave!’ He jumped up, grabbing the woman’s arm, and ran back across the concrete, heading for the fence.
‘What are you doing?’ The woman limped as she stumbled along beside him, one hand pressing her thigh where Isiah had kicked her.
‘If we follow Filthy Frank he’ll lead us to the Sorcerer!’ Isiah pulled and virtually threw the woman over the fence, jumping over behind her in a single bound.
‘Filthy Frank and the Sorcerer?’ There was amusement in the woman’s voice. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Fuck!’ Isiah stood at the kerb, staring at the space where Frank’s car had been parked. He looked up and down the empty road. ‘Come on, we may catch up with him at the airport if we’re lucky.’
‘You think I’m going with you?’
Isiah looked at the woman. ‘Why are you watching the place?’
‘We need to learn more of the activities of this group.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s a long story.’
‘Well, you can tell it to me in the car on the way to the airport. Believe me, if we keep up with Frank he’ll lead us right to the heart of this thing. But you may want to change clothes. Security at airports is a little extreme these days and that would set them right off.’
Jake drove the Land Rover cautiously. The woman in the passenger seat looked half asleep, but it was only Jake’s concentration that kept her that way, the alcohol alone not enough. His left hand gripped a red stained handkerchief tightly against the steering wheel and he muttered soft, broken, hideous words. It didn’t take long to get back to Braden Estate. He pulled up right by the red brick porch and killed the engine. Hopping out, muttering all the time, he walked to the passenger door, gravel crunching under his boots, hoarfrost glittering in the moonlight. He pulled the soporific woman from the seat and cradled her easily in his arms. The rain had stopped, freezing everywhere, but the wind still whipped at hair and clothes, pushed clouds swiftly past a half moon.
‘Wassappen...?’ the woman mumbled, then giggled softly. She looked up. ‘Are you trying to get me drunk?’ She looked around, confused. ‘Bloody cold in here all of a sudden, isn’t it?’
‘We stepped out for some air, remember,’ Jake said as he stood her on her feet, one arm wrapped around her back and under her arm. He dug his free hand into a pocket and pulled out a key, unlocked the front door. ‘You were feeling woozy?’
The woman nodded, exaggerated, wobbling nods. ‘Thatsh right! I’m woozy.’ Her brows knitted together as she looked up into the hallway as Jake pushed open the door. She took a deep breath, trying to rally herself. ‘Just a minute. What’s this place? Where are we?’
Jake muttered again in the foul language of the Sorcerer’s magic, looking hard into the woman’s eyes. She stared at him defiantly for a moment, one hand raising in protest. Then her head lolled against her shoulder and Jake took her full weight ag
ain. He pulled her inside, her feet dragging behind her. She mumbled incoherently. He sat her in a carved wooden chair just inside the door, dark timber with a red velvet seat, and held up his right hand. He barked three short, sharp words and struck the heel of his hand into the woman’s forehead. She slumped heavily in the chair, out cold.
‘Why didn’t you just do that in the first place?’
Jake jumped, spun around. ‘Dominus! I didn’t feel you there at all.’
‘Of course not. That’s why I’m the boss and you’re the boy.’
‘In case I got pulled over. Better to have her looking very drunk than actually unconscious. If she acts drunk then my story is easy. If she’s out, then there are too many possibilities for a pig to think up and delay me.’
The Sorcerer made a face. ‘Good thinking. So, how did you get her? Tell me everything.’
Jake shrugged. ‘Not much to tell. I got lucky. I was heading into the pub when she stormed out. She ran straight into me. Very apologetic, very upset. I asked if she was okay, she said no, she’d had a big argument with her boyfriend. At that point a guy comes out and says, “Oh, that’s about right. Straight into the arms of another man!” She told him to fuck off, he told her to fuck off, I offered to buy her a drink. She just looked at him with this nasty expression and said, “Sure, you can buy me a drink.”’
The Sorcerer pursed his lips. ‘The boyfriend will remember you.’
‘No. I told her to go back inside as I’d left my wallet in my car. She went in and I followed the boyfriend and tapped his memory. He’ll remember his girlfriend going off with a tall black guy with dreadlocks and a big green coat.’ Jake smiled, pleased with himself.
‘Good. What about the people in the pub?’
‘Nothing to worry about. The place was packed and she said she hadn’t been there before, so no one knew her. We kept a low profile and I got her more drunk. She was already bladdered when I got there and I added a bit of pressure to the effect. Within ten minutes we were back outside so she could get some air. That was it. In the car and away.’
The Sorcerer nodded, satisfied. ‘Good. Well done, Jake. Very well done. Help me get her downstairs.’
Jake crouched and tipped the woman over his shoulder, lifted her in a fireman’s carry. He followed the Sorcerer to the door under the stairs and down the cold stone steps. As they passed the wine racks and entered the open space with the candles and stone sarcophagus the Sorcerer held up a hand. ‘What is it?’ Jake asked.
‘You’ll have to stop here. Put her down there.’
‘But the coffin is only ten feet away, I can take her...’
‘Put her down!’ the Sorcerer snapped.
Jake jumped, his expression hurt. ‘All right. Whatever you say.’
The Sorcerer bowed his head, then looked back up at Jake. ‘My apologies, Jake. You’re one of my dearest students and you don’t deserve to be shouted at. It’s just that you can not see the child now.’
‘Okay. Why not?’
‘It’s how it must be. The child can see nobody but me, and even then he hardly sees me.’
Jake was confused. He tried a different tack. ‘It’s still freezing down here. Will the child survive?’
‘If he feeds often enough. He is not a normal child.’ The Sorcerer took hold of the shoulders of the woman’s jacket and dragged her across the stone floor to the sarcophagus. ‘You should leave now.’
‘I saw you feed the child before. I have no qualms about it and I’m happy to watch sacrifice to Yath-vados.’
The Sorcerer looked at Jake, his eyes hard. ‘You don’t understand what is happening here, Jake. You are serving very well and you have done exactly as I have asked. Please, continue to do so.’
Jake knew he was pushing his luck, but couldn’t help himself. ‘These people, the food for the child. They’re sacrifices to Yath-vados, right? And the child will be the ultimate sacrifice to Yath-vados when the time is right?’ The Sorcerer said nothing, one eyebrow raised. Jake plunged on. ‘Because if we plan to give power to a god, then we need to sacrifice to him. He is weak now, as you said before, but our ministrations will make him strong. Then he will be able to wield his power to this world, empowering our actions. That’s what gods do, right? Reward their faithful by helping them achieve their goals and aims.’ Jake stopped, unsure where he was going with this sudden tirade.
The Sorcerer pushed his hands deep into the pockets of his coat. ‘You have always been the thinker, Jake.’ He had a wry smile and a twinkle in his eye. ‘You’ve always been a favourite of mine, you know that?’
Jake nodded, cast his eyes down, embarrassed. ‘I owe you a lot.’
‘And you always had the most questions. You always needed to know more. And I always told you as much as you needed to know. Never more, never less. I’ve guided you well and you have grown magnificently, have you not?’
‘Certainly.’
‘So trust me now, Jake. I tell you what you need to know and you will benefit the most that way. Don’t try to second guess me. Your loyalty and hard work will be repaid, I promise you that.’
Jake nodded resignedly. ‘I feel that if I knew more I could be of more help, that’s all.’
The Sorcerer smiled. ‘I know, Jake. And you like to know what’s going on. But trust me, in this instance, the more you knew, the more trouble it would cause.’
‘Fair enough. I’ll go upstairs. I’m hungry anyway. Do you want anything.’
‘No, thanks. And good work tonight, Jake. Really.’
Jake nodded again and headed back across the cellar, up the worn steps. He did trust his Dominus, with his life. But something different was happening here. Usually he and Chris and Frank, and Lars when he was around, Sam before he had disappeared, they would all work together with the Sorcerer, making the magic stronger. Even Dieter and Raul would join them regularly, the core team. At the moment he felt excluded. But he wasn’t the only one. None of the others were any more included than he was really.
As he pushed open the door at the top of the steps he heard the woman’s voice echoing from below. ‘Who the fuck are you? What are you doing?’ The was panic in her voice and the sounds of struggling and scuffling. Jake heard the Sorcerer bark out hard, diamond edged words, followed by a moment of silence. Then the woman’s screams were piercing and agonised. With a soft smile Jake pulled the door closed and headed for the kitchen.
Faith sat nervously on the leather couch, a smile tugging at one side of her mouth. What a night it had been. And a day. She cast her mind back, thinking that meeting Lars at the hostel seemed so long ago. They had talked, sitting there in the lounge, for hours. She had felt so happy. Just being in his presence had relaxed her, made her feel safe. He talked about how he had travelled for years from his native Denmark before settling in Australia. He had flirted with her, explaining how he had been walking past the hostel and had seen her sitting alone inside. He had been irresistibly drawn to come and talk to her. Then he had told her how he had seen the strength of her will from out there as she meditated. This had stunned her, but he had been so sincere. He talked about normal people and how they were so blind, so muted. She told him all about how she felt so trapped and oppressed at home, so misunderstood. She told him the thing she had vowed not to tell anyone, except Gabby, that she had run away.
Eventually he had suggested that they get a drink and she had been charmed. She felt naughty going out for a drink at three o’clock in the morning, but there were pubs in Sydney that never closed. It felt like a very cool thing to do. On a street corner in Chinatown they had perched on high stools, drinking cold beer in air-conditioned comfort and they talked some more. Faith explained about her Pagan ways, her Wiccan beliefs. Lars had chuckled softly and explained that there was so much more power in other methods. He had said how it was the system, the government, the police, all conformists, that caused the grief of the world. Did they ever suffer from the threefold law? No one could follow their dreams because they were all c
aught in the machine. The machine run by religious zealots and money worshippers that harboured only the desire for power while they destroyed people and the world around them. His words had made so much sense. He told her that there was a higher power, not lost and old, bowed by dogma like modern religions. He told her that he would show her wonders, but her questions then had met with handsome smiles and promises of explanations later.
They had drunk some more and Faith, although she was not much of a drinker and knew that she was getting quite inebriated, didn’t feel at all threatened. When he invited her back to his house it seemed perfectly normal. She wanted to go. She knew that he was flirting with her and that was fine. She wanted him. And she had had him.
Again she smiled that crooked smile. He had been quite the lover. She was no virgin, but her experience was nothing beyond the quick fumblings of astonished teenage boys. One or two out of the handful of occasions had been fun, but nothing earth moving. Lars last night, this morning, had been incredible. Patient and sensuous. His body was strong and athletic as he had stood before her, naked but for the dark leather band around his wrist. He had numerous scars across his hands, arms, chest and legs, but had assured her they were nothing to be concerned about. He said they represented something wonderful and again, he would explain more later. They suited him, signs of danger and mystery.
Faith wasn’t stupid. She knew she should have been scared, or wary at least. But Lars was so open, so calm. He exuded sweet concern and she simply believed him to be sincere. He was obviously too old for her, he must be twice her age, but that was exciting too. And she was not falling head over heels in love or anything like that. She was having fun, playing exciting games. She was intrigued by the things he had promised to show her, explain to her.
Come mid-morning he told her that he needed to do some things in the city. She asked if it was work and he told her that it was, of a sort. She was to go to the hostel, shower and change, and come back to his house again in the evening. Then she could join in with a group meeting he chaired and she could learn about the wonders he could share with her. He had given her taxi money and a gift. A black leather wrist band with a deep red spot on it, like the one he wore.
