Fire and Fantasy: a Limited Edition Collection of Epic and Urban Fantasy

by CK Dawn

  “You would give up so easily?” the old man said, more statement than question. His fingers tapped along the armchair. “If you cannot manage twenty seconds of inconvenience, what hope have you with a lifetime of it?”

  Gabe narrowed his eyes. No one had ever spoken to him in such a manner. It was as if ice water had been doused on his fiery pride. Contempt rose up like battery acid while he studied this old one. Silvery hair with streaks of brown stood up in every direction. A large bushy moustache of the same grayish-brown color lay at the end of an elongated round nose and covered a wide oval mouth. His eyes were dark, drooped, and set too far back in his face. It made the old man appear tired yet alert, an unsettling combination. Gabe decided a change of tactics might be in order.

  “Inconvenience I can manage,” Gabe began, pausing deliberately. “Wasting time, I cannot.”

  “I wasn’t aware the two were separable.” The old man grinned like a loon as Gabe seethed under his feigned cool demeanor. Gabe knew the more ancient of his kind rarely received visitors and enjoyed riling the younger fallen, but he found it difficult to ignore the slights. After a pause the old man added, “But come young one, tell me your troubles.”

  Gabe nearly exploded at the term “young one” but restrained as it would serve his purpose better to let the insult drop. “I seek answers from one who has inhabited the Earth these many centuries.”

  “Back to formalities. Do you think it matters to me whether you are formal or casual, humble or rebellious?” The old man’s zany laughter filled the room. “Young ones. What a hoot!”

  The old man bolted across the room quicker than Gabe would have thought possible. With one rapid motion, a ferocious hug captured Gabe, pushing the air from his lungs. He sputtered and coughed as the old man stepped back.

  “My apologies. I forget how fragile you are when you first arrive.” The old man patted Gabe on the back and led him to a leather chair. “Have a seat. Tell me your woes, but first a name please?”

  Gabe sat down and tried to hide the discomfort the old man’s embrace had caused him. Do all the ancient ones gain such incredible strength here? In a flat tone he answered, “Gabe.”

  Another medley of laughter filled the room.

  “Gabe he says.” The old man clutched his stomach. “Gabe. Not very original, my young friend.”

  “It serves my purpose and fits with me well.” The insults to Gabe’s person began to tax his nerves. He shifted in the seat. With a hint of irritation creeping in his words, he said, “And what name do you go by now?”

  “Why Albert, of course,” the old man said with blatant astonishment. “A bit outdated for this time, I know, but I have found none better as of yet.”

  “Well it explains the appearance.” Gabe swept a hand in Albert’s general direction. He sat across from Gabe in the same worn out chair he’d occupied before the abrupt embrace. Tan slacks encompassed his short legs. His sweater was navy blue, a wool material. His face resembled the famed scientist. Yet, minor differences assured mortals would not concern themselves with the similarities. This old one enjoyed mimicking famous humans.

  “Of course,” Albert said beaming. “But, you did not come to admire my looks, now did you?” His eyes narrowed and his head slanted to the side.

  Gabe couldn’t hold back a smirk. “No. I didn’t.” He folded his arms across his chest and said no more. I know your weakness now, old one. He continued to smile at Albert as the silence wore on.

  Albert squirmed in his chair, before jumping up. “I see you know more about me than I first anticipated, young one.” He shuffled across the room, opened the double oak doors, and yelled, “Maribel.”

  Maribel appeared within the span of a minute. “What do you need, sir?” Her large dove eyes glared.

  “My guest and I may be talking well into the night. Please bring us some tea,” Albert said. Maribel strolled toward the kitchen. “Oh and some of those cookies. The peanut butter ones.” He yelled at her back.

  “Lousy, lazy, infuriating,” Maribel cursed under her breath.

  “Lovely woman,” Albert said, oblivious to his servant’s seething. He closed the doors and turned back to Gabe. “Now, where were we?”

  Several hours, dozens of oatmeal cookies, and cups of tea later, Gabe had still not revealed the purpose of his visit, but he learned a great deal about his new plight. Albert was one of the oldest fallen he knew.

  “The life of our kind, Gabe, is service to the Light,” Albert said. “But, I was far too curious about Earth and its inhabitants to be content. I chose to remain here and give up the path of redemption for all time.” He sighed. “I’ve been here for almost two thousand years, and still it is not enough to know the ways of this world.”

  “You may never be satisfied,” Gabe said with genuine concern. “Don’t you wish for peace of mind?”

  “I miss the Light and its wondrous power.” He paused. “But I do not regret my decision.”

  Gabe stayed silent. He could not imagine wishing to stay here for so long. Worldly temptations and the allure of free will did nothing for him. He was a warrior of peace, a servant of the Light. As if the old fallen had read his mind, Albert said, “And what of you, young one? What will you do?”

  “I will seek redemption. My pride brought this upon me.” Gabe’s heart swelled with the pain of the admission. “I have accepted guardianship.”

  “I see. And would your charge be the real reason you’ve sought me out?”

  “Yes,” Gabe said. If I lose the upper hand now, I may never get the information I need. The old man waited. It seems I have little choice. Gabe inhaled, seeking the right words. “I do not understand her.”

  Albert’s laughter burst forth. “You sought me for advice about women?” He choked out each word between chuckles.

  “It is far more serious,” Gabe said, awaiting Albert’s silence. When the mood of the room changed once more he continued, “She has abilities. Yet, they have not matured. She can’t control anything. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “How old is she?” Albert’s tone sobered with the gravity of Gabe’s words.

  “I don’t know. Late twenties, perhaps. Far past the age.”

  “Do you know her birthday?”

  “We haven’t exactly been social.” Gabe’s discomfort over the situation vexed him. He should have found out more information before seeking the old one’s counsel. He rubbed the back of his neck. Disadvantageous positions didn’t sit well with him. Neither did asking for help. But here he was. “What are you thinking?”

  “I don’t know for certain, but if she is what I think she is, we’re all in danger.” Albert rose and scrutinized his bookcase.

  “What do you think she is?”

  “Ah-ha! I’ve got it.” From amongst the shelves, Albert extracted a black leather bound book. Its pages yellowed from the beatings of time. In gold letters on the front, the title blazed one word – Keys. He opened to a page at the very back of the book and read the following passage allowed:

  Darkness and Light together mixed in blood

  Shall produce the Key to Earth’s kingdom.

  Born on the day of order and balance

  Arising on the seventh cycle of birth

  To bond in power with the worthy.

  “The day of order and balance,” Gabe said. “What does it mean?”

  “If the girl, your charge, is the Key of this passage then she holds the future of Earth in her grasp.” Albert slammed the book shut and placed it on the pile next to him. It shook as it made contact with the stack of texts on the wobbly side table.

  “Impossible. Keys gain their power at seven years old. Not twenty-something.” Gabe ran a shaking hand through his hair. “I don’t see how this is possible.”

  “Gabe, we all knew this day would come.” Albert reached across the narrow coffee table between them and patted him on the shoulder. “The Sacred Key will be born on the day of balance. I believe humans call it Leap day. Humans believe they’ve
created it to keep the seasons aligned. Little do they know the true power it possesses.”

  “Then, her powers wouldn’t mature until her seventh birth cycle.”

  “Yes, by human estimations it would be, let’s see now...” Albert counted each finger twice then eight more. It seemed the great mathematical abilities of the man he resembled didn’t transfer to him. “Her twenty-eighth birthday.”

  “That time could well be drawing near.” Gabe scrubbed a hand down his face, making no attempt to hide his concerns. “The increasing attacks by dark forces, the surges of her powers, even my presence.”

  “Yes and you should know,” Albert paused as if unsure of how to proceed, “Some will want to eliminate this Key. And not just those of the Darkness. If she is the one, and chooses one side over the other, think of what will happen to the other. Many will see her as too dangerous a threat to let live.”

  Gabe clasped his hands together in front of him and leaned his forehead on them. “This can’t be.” His heart sank at the weight of his predicament.

  Albert remained silent.

  The information was a lot for anyone to absorb, even a fallen angel. Gabe couldn’t get his thoughts in order.

  When the silence wore on, Albert added, “I am afraid it is so, my young friend. I do not envy your position. But, you have freely chosen this road. Take comfort in the choice.”

  “I care nothing about free choices or will, about humans or this world.” Gabe’s anger coursed through his blood. The rage fired his soul. “I would have remained in the Light forever. I was a fool.”

  “Perhaps. Or perhaps, you are needed here.” Albert tapped the Keys book. “Perhaps you have far more to learn and care more than you yet realize. Have you considered that?”

  The light shone from the old one’s eyes in shades of amber and gold. Gabe’s doubts subsided bit by bit. “Perhaps,” he admitted with some reluctance. “Regardless, I have sworn to guardianship. I can’t abandon her, no matter the cost.”

  “True. If you ever hope to see the Light again, you must maintain your pledge.” Albert rose as he spoke. “I hope it is not your undoing.” He offered Gabe his arm. “Nor the undoing of us all.”

  Gabe pushed away all thoughts of pride and accepted Albert’s arm. He rose unsteadily to his feet. Their conversation had taken all of his strength.

  Albert held him up under his arms and walked with him toward the door. “Remember, my young friend, your choice of guardianship has allowed you to maintain the Light’s powers, but you are still susceptible to the needs of your human body.” He cocked his chin at Gabe. “And right now that body needs rest. You may stay in one of the spare bedrooms.”

  “Thank you,” Gabe said without a trace of his earlier attitude. “I am grateful.”

  Albert stopped. “No protest. I’m shocked. Pleased, of course, but shocked.”

  “After what you’ve told me today, I’ll be thankful for all of the help I can get.” Gabe struggled to keep his head up and out of the fog threatening to enfold him as they continued out the door and toward a guest bedroom.

  “Well now, there may be some hope for you yet, young one.” Albert placed Gabe on a full bed covered in an elegant gold satin blanket.

  “Excuse me,” Gabe called as Albert was leaving. “You may call me Gabe, not young one.” Some of the defiance of the morning sparked at the insulting title.

  “Then again, maybe not.” Albert slammed the door as he left.

  Gabe chuckled as he lie back on the bed and fell into a restless sleep.

  Five

  “Up, now! Up!” An irritating baritone echoed about the room.

  The bed shook with unnatural tremors as Gabe struggled to resist the interruption to his sleep. Flipping to his stomach, he placed the pillow over his head and ignored the sunlight pouring from the window. Even the sun felt different in this world.

  The same grating voice called out again. “Come now. Up! We have so much to do. Arise, young one.”

  “Young one?” Gabe mumbled into the bed sheets. He turned, shaking away his mind’s cobwebs. Squashing the pillow in his fist, he tossed it in the general direction of the door. “Who are you calling young one?”

  Albert grinned, dodging the throw with a step to the side. “I see you’re feeling better this morning.” He picked up the pillow, smoothed the ruffles from the protective covering, and placed it on the foot of the bed. “Your strength will improve further with some food. Now, be quick.”

  Gabe didn’t have time to muster a reply. After shaking the bed one final time, Albert disappeared back the way he’d come and shut the door behind him. The grandfather clock in the southwest corner chimed a soothing melody. Its polished brass hands read 10:00am. Gabe had slept longer than he intended. Considering the rest felt anything but restful, the late hour didn’t surprise him.

  Grumbling about the nature of older fallen, Gabe rose to his feet and skulked across to the bathroom. The cold marble tiles sent pins and needles into his bare feet. He adjusted the shower handles. Steam rose from the glass and encased the room in warmth in a matter of minutes. He let the water run over him, loosening his knotted muscles and washing away his new and unsettling emotions.

  “Damn this place.” He smacked the faucet bringing the stream to a halt. Bracing his hands against the shower wall, he fought to regain composure. As an angel of the Light, he never had to contend with baser emotions. Yet, he always wondered why Earth’s inhabitants behaved so irrationally.

  “Now, I know.” His words tasted course like sand across his tongue.

  The steam soon dissipated and more pressing urges garnered his attention. Hunger seized him with a growl so loud it could most likely be heard in neighboring rooms. He balked at the absurdity, then dried off and dressed. If he’d learned anything about Earth, it was you didn’t ignore an empty stomach.

  After breakfast, Albert insisted taking Gabe on a tour of his new home – both the apartment and the city. “Can’t have you living like a beggar,” Albert had said as he waved his hand around yet another guest room. “You’ll stay with me as long as you need.”

  Gabe had wanted to turn down the invitation, but since his options were limited, he accepted the hospitality as graciously as he could. Once the tour of the apartment hit the forty-minute mark, he wished he hadn’t agreed. Albert had shown him every square inch of every room, along with a persistent recitation of the history of the building itself. Now, outside on the street, Gabe took a breath of city air. He leaned against a tree just in front of the building and stared at the sky above. A perfect vision of blue cast from one end to the other as far as his eyes could see. Not a single cloud blocked the sun from shining overhead.

  “No daydreaming. Too much to do. Too much to see.” Albert bounded down the front stairs like an excited puppy, the ends of his olive tweed jacket flapping behind. “This way.”

  Gabe followed a few paces back, not sharing the older fallen’s enthusiasm. At the end of the next block, they came to a set of stairs leading into a concrete void below. The sign read “C” in a blue circle followed by “72nd Street Station.” Gabe angled his head, wondering silently just what he’d gotten himself into.

  “Down we go, like Alice into the rabbit hole.” Albert’s exuberance manifested in the form of rhyme.

  Snorting, Gabe said, “Okay. I’ll bite. Who’s Alice?”

  “What? Oh no, never mind.” The old fallen waved his hand as if shooing the question away.

  The pair lumbered down the steps and into the station. Albert demonstrated the proper method of swiping the fare card and entering through the turnstile. The infuriating machine read, “Please swipe again” four times before allowing Gabe entry. By the time the train arrived, fifteen minutes later, he had to ease his hold on the train’s metal handgrip to keep from breaking it.

  “Settle down, young one, before you cause an unnecessary scene.”

  The reprimand, along with Albert’s use of the damn nickname, did little to dissuade Gabe’s
anger, but he managed not to cause the subway car any damage. Well, at least for the next few stops. When the train reached the stop at Forty-second Street, it jerked forward into the station. At the same instant, Gabe’s hand left the guardrail. The movement caused him to slam his shoulder into the back wall of the train.

  Surprised by losing his balance, but otherwise unharmed, he examined the space where he’d landed. Hell. A huge dent remained behind. He leaned back, covering the damage with his body.

  “Stop messing around,” Albert cried from the station platform. “Lots to see.”

  Gabe resisted the urge to pull the emergency door from its frame and chuck it at the old coot. Barely. Grinding his teeth, he took one last look at the dent, shrugged, and then walked from the train without comment.

  The forty-second street station had a long connecting walkway packed with people. Albert said it led to an area called Times Square. Pushing through the mob, they exited onto the street above, which proved equally as crowded. Gabe couldn’t believe the sight. Humans of every age and size, every shape and color, rushed through the streets with single-minded speed and purpose. The shared goal to get to their destinations as fast as possible created a synergy amongst the people.

  Gabe had heard about the pace of city life from other angels who had travelled to Earth from time to time. He’d known the stories, but avoided the world he considered inferior. Being here, amongst these creatures, felt surreal and set his heart racing. He expected to feel disgust or pity. He expected to hate it now as much as he had when he’d been part of the Light. Yet, he didn’t. Amazing. Blood rushed through his veins, a fiery adrenaline shot. The sensation excited and unnerved him all at once.

  Albert cleared his throat, breaking the strange mood that had descended upon Gabe. After additional coughs, he said somberly, “This city is a microcosm of the world, my young friend. It is a living, breathing concrete reflection of every person on the planet.” Pointing to a street corner, he continued, “Just look there. You see those people standing in line at the hot dog cart?”