“There’s no table service, sir. Not in this coffee house. You’ve got to go to the counter and place your order.” The young man spoke with a nonchalant tone and turned to walk away; Jonathon, not wanting to be snubbed so openly, wasn’t going to stand for it. He demanded respect every day from hundreds of people who put their lives on the line for the cause and he was in no mood for this boy’s disdain. Not after everything that had happened recently.
“Kristian!” he barked. “I just want to talk to you.”
Turning to face the man he once knew quite well, though now not familiar at all, Kristian felt almost afraid. He respected Jonathon, admired him, but he knew that there was only one thing that would’ve brought him here; to see him and to hear those fateful words was something Kristian certainty didn’t want to face.
“I’m working,” Kristian muttered, knowing that Jonathon wouldn’t accept any excuse. He sighed, looked down and knew that he owed him at least five minutes of his time. “I have a half-hour break, I’ll take it now. Can I get you a drink?” as Jonathon shook his head Kristian took off his apron and slowly walked towards the counter. When he came back he brought a mug of coffee for himself. He sat down and looked at Jonathon nervously. The smell of the coffee was strong, its pungency alone brought clarity and alertness to them both. Kristian was full of unease. He had spent the past two years repressing memories that still profoundly haunted him; memories that this man in front of him brought flooding back.
“Are you sure you don’t want a drink?” Kristian asked again. He wasn’t overly concerned with Jonathon’s thirst but was endeavouring to delay any conversation about the Order and its dealings.
“No, I’m fine. So, how are you Kristian? How are you keeping? Are the studies going well?” Jonathon leaned forward, knowing subconsciously that he too was also trying to avoid the topic he had come to discuss.
“It’s all going well, thank you,” Kristian replied. “My lecturers are really pleased with me; they say I’m doing well and I am on course for a first. I also took up fencing and I’m actually pretty good! I’m the Uni champion. I’ve some great friends now, my own flat, a brilliant flatmate; I go home from time to time to see family. I party hard, and I work harder.” Kristian spoke with genuine happiness and contentment, but there remained an undertone of sarcasm in his voice.
“What about you?” Kristian asked. He didn’t really want to ask this of Jonathon, but the words just came out, almost like polite instinct.
“I’m okay. Keeping busy as you would expect,” Jonathon sounded tired. “We have been a little stretched recently and I feel as if certain people are testing boundaries, trying to see how far they can push me before I snap. I am not just talking about the bad guys,” he looked down at the table as he spoke. “So when do you finish then, for the year I mean?”
“I‘ve finished all my lectures for the year but I’ve some exams coming up,” Kristian replied.
“I see,” Jonathon looked Kristian deep in the eyes, which sent shivers down Kristian’s spine. Anticipating that the discussion would soon turn sour, the young man looked away and pretended to gaze out of the window.
“What do you plan to do when you finish, Kristian?” Jonathon was attempting to get to the point.
“Well… I’ve one more year left you know and then I think I may try and stay here for a few years, maybe get a manager’s job, earn some extra cash so I can do my masters.”
Placing his hand upon Kristian to draw the flow of conversation back to him, Jonathon spoke.
“It’s good that you have plans, Kristian, but there is something that you need to know,” he looked into Kristian’s eyes once more and Kristian knew that something awful had happened. Jonathon’s sheer presence there was a sign that something had gone massively wrong, of some terrible tragedy, and now he was about to find out. He suddenly felt cold and dead inside.
“Whatever it is, I don’t care. I’m not coming back!” Kristian’s words were harsh and resolute.
“Kristian, it is not as simple as you would like it to be.” Kristian’s expression showed that Jonathon’s words had fallen on deaf ears.
“I don’t care. You cannot force me to come back. I have tried so hard to have something which resembles a normal life and you can’t come here and destroy it again, you just can’t.” Kristian’s face showed the anger he felt. He had never asked for anything else, all he had ever wanted was to lead his own life and to make his own choices.
Jonathon was nothing short of stunned by Kristian’s impassioned reaction. He reflected on the conversation that the pair had had just before Kristian had left the Order.
“I know I gave you my word that you were free to go for your degree, for a career, but you are what you are, and like it or not that makes you part of the Order. Regardless of the choices you make, we need you. You have a responsibility to the Order.”
The more Kristian listened, the more incensed he felt. Two years ago, after his training and after his first and what he believed to be his last mission, Jonathon had promised him that he would only be called on if it became absolutely necessary. The more he thought about it, the sweatier his palms became and the angrier he got. Moving to his feet, his eyes unfocused and he vehemently said, “Whatever has happened I’m not coming back, I’m out, Jonathon. I’m out.”
Acting purely on instinct, Jonathon reached out and grabbed the young man’s arm, slowing his exit. “It’s Oliver…”
Kristian froze and he knew what was coming, but the whole experience seemed so surreal to him, he couldn’t move away, he couldn’t shake off Jonathon’s grip. “What’s wrong with him?”
Gulping and feeling as if he couldn’t say the words, Jonathon spoke with an unsteady voice.
“Oliver has died. He was killed. I am sorry you had to find out like this but we need you to come in for a briefing. It’s important,” Jonathon spoke fast with one quick breath, as if it made it easier to say.
Kristian’s legs stiffened. God, Was it true? His heart pounded and every beat was like a bullet to his chest. How was it possible? Oliver was so strong and brave. He had lived for the fight. His calling had been the making of him and he had approached it with unyielding commitment. Kristian was overwhelmed with feelings of sadness, regret. Part of him felt like he should have been there with Oliver.
“When? How?” Kristian fell back into his seat.
“It happened last week and his body is being brought back to headquarters for examination. He was on a very important mission in Germany. He had been working off the record with utmost secrecy. I directed him to only make contact when he had the information we needed.” Jonathon scratched his head and with guilt in his voice, he continued. “We are troubled and dismayed as it appears, though unconfirmed, that he died over a week ago and our lack of information from the seers and mystics has baffled us completely. We are at a complete loss as to who did this and what the motivations could be.”
Kristian couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The Order he remembered had never sounded this weak and this impotent.
“You must have some leads, Jonathon? You know what he was investigating, so you must’ve something?”
“He was working on something top secret and I cannot talk about it here. Moreover, the leads we do have are a lot more complicated than you can ever imagine, it’s not straightforward bringing the main suspect in for questioning.”
“So you’ve a suspect? Then it’s simple, you arrest him, bring him in for interrogation, find out what he knows, then execute him for his troubles. Look, if you do that then I can still have a normal life and the bad guys still lose,” Kristian paused and glanced over at the clock on the wall. “Well, time for me to get back to work”. He knew how selfish he was being, but fear was holding him back and although he was filled with guilt, he knew he could never accept Jonathon’s request.
“Kristian, please.” Jonathon rarely begged.
“I suggest you go now, Jonathon. You knew what my answer would be bef
ore you even came here, but if you want, I will say it again; I-am-not-coming-back. That’s final!” Kristian could hardly believe that these cold, cruel words were passing his lips, but he meant them and he needed to say them so badly.
“Things are so very different now. You owe this to Oliver, he was your friend as well as a colleague and it’s down to you to help ensure that the person responsible for this is brought to justice,” Jonathon’s disheartened voice portrayed his disappointment: he had expected more of the young man. He thought that respect for his friend would have been enough to convince him.
“You bastard,” Kristian was shouting now, his inhibitions gone. “How dare you come into my life and try to stir up my emotions in an attempt to get me to do your dirty work. Oliver was like a brother to me and his death hurts me inside more than you can possibly know. But he knew the risks he was taking. He knew that if you live by the sword, you would eventually die by it. He chose to live that life, and I chose not to, so let me be. I left the Order and I am not going back.” His face was deep red and his eyes ablaze. As he turned to walk away, he muttered, “It’s time you left, Jonathon.”
Jonathon was shocked. He had expected the discussion to be hard but not impossible. How could he be so cold? Jonathon thought. But alas he had wasted too much time already and could do no more. He put on his jacket and left the café.
Kristian moved towards the counter and put his arm against the serving hatch whilst taking in deep breaths of air. A small chubby man with more hair on his face than his head stumbled over.
“May I remind you to keep your personal life out of my café. You’re lowering the tone,” he spoke with a strange accent, a mixture between Scottish and Italian.
Kristian raised his head, his eyes were bloodshot and glazed over. Wiping them before the tears formed he whispered, “I’m sorry; it was an old friend that’s all; just an old friend.” The impact of the conversation was now kicking in.
Forcing a smile and putting a hand through his hair he attempted to push his emotions deep down inside him; along with the rest of them.
“Sorry, Mr. Durante, he won’t be back. I can assure you of that.”
“Good.” Mr. Durante’s face lit up with a grin, which disappeared as quickly as it had come. “Now get back to work will you. Break time is over.”
Kristian didn’t argue, he got on with his work, a nice distraction from his nightmarish thoughts.
…
Frantically looking over a few different texts laid out over his desk, Peter endlessly looked back and forth between the police photos of Oliver’s body and a book entitled Encasement of the Divine.
The pictures were gruesome. Any ordinary person would have been sick by now, but Peter was different. He was a cold and emotionless man and often seemed pitiless. Moreover, he was a workaholic and therefore, if a task had to be done, he didn’t stop until it was completed. The large book with a yellow and brown cover took up most of his desk space. The script on the pages wasn’t a language devised by man. It was a text comprised of pictograms and symbols that appeared in different colours. Straining his eyes to read it, he searched desperately for something that would give him a clue into the bizarre killing of his fellow comrade, Oliver.
A few moments later, a library clerk appeared in Peter’s office with a trolley full of more books.
“Sir, I’ve the books you requested,” said the clerk as he pushed the trolley into the only remaining space left in the room.
“If you could just leave them on the trolley,” said Peter as he realised that there was nowhere else to put them.
Cursing Peter inwardly, the clerk left the trolley and exited the room. “Lazy bastard, never takes his books back, why doesn’t he just go into the Great Library like everyone else.”
As the clerk left, Peter looked up just in time to see a flash of brown hair pass his office; he knew that it was Kieran.
“Kieran!” he shouted and rushed to the door.
Kieran’s attention had been elsewhere but on hearing his name, he turned and to his dread saw Peter Bergbeck ushering him into his office. As things stood, Peter didn’t actually have any authority over him in the Order. He was a higher rank than Kieran but he was Nariasdem and Kieran was soon to undertake the blending and become the third member of the Trinity. This aside, he knew deep down that this conversation with Peter would happen eventually, so why not now?
“Kieran, do you mind? A quick chat?” Peter waved his hands in the direction of a chair.
That’s all he ever does, thought Kieran, directs people with his hands.
“Sure, I’ve ten minutes spare, what can I do you for, Peter?” he walked in to the office and sat down upon a pile of books.
Peter gave him a disapproving look and then got to the point.
“I wanted to talk to you about your ascension to the third spot in the Trinity. You must be very surprised that Andrew and Roman picked you for such an honour?” He was being sly and patronising but his words did not faze Kieran. He wasn’t going to bite back. He had worked hard to earn this opportunity. Blending with the Trinity power, the responsibility and everything that came with it, was all he had ever dreamt about, ever since the day he cast his first spell.
“Yes, I’m honoured,” Kieran’s voice was direct and true.
“Yes, a real honour,” Peter continued. “I must say though that I’m surprised your name was chosen. I was sure it was going to be Ashleen, weren’t you?” He was clearly trying to work Kieran up, but he was failing.
“Not at all, Peter. I agree with Andrew and Roman, I am the best all-rounder in the coven at the moment. Young, maybe; immature, not. As for Ashleen? Well, yes, she is powerful and does know her stuff, but she is a little flat with the magic and she doesn’t have that natural flair,” Kieran was careful with his words. Peter and Ashleen shared an almost father-and-daughter-style relationship. Everyone knew how beside himself with fury he had been when she had not been chosen to blend and become a member of the Trinity after the death of the previous member, Wendy.
“Well. Only time will tell if the coven has made the right decision; when is the ceremony again?” Peter asked.
“Next week I am told. Andrew is officiating it and Roman will be the witness. It’s standard practice that the longest-standing Trinity member performs the spell,” Kieran managed a quick, insincere grin at Peter and then leapt to his feet, “Well if that’s all, Peter, I’d better be off, busy man, things to do, you know what it’s like.”
“And where are you off to exactly?” Peter enquired; he was always intrigued to know what everyone was up to at any given time.
Turning to face him, Kieran wondered what to say exactly. His plan hadn’t been agreed by Jonathon, so there was no way he was telling Peter about it.
“I’m just off to see an old friend, that’s all,” he said as he left as quickly as he could.
Peter, not really giving much regard to Kieran’s plans, sat back down at his desk and continued with his grizzly task.
…
It had been almost a week since Jonathon had visited him; Kristian’s head had been in a blur ever since. His old friend and colleague was dead. As much as he wanted to know the details, he was afraid that if he did, then he might be persuaded to spiral into some harrowing mission for the Order.
He had just finished work; it was a Sunday evening and the fog outside reflected the fog in his mind. He couldn’t remember what Jess was doing tonight but hoped that maybe she would be out with Jason as he wanted to be alone. He had tried to keep busy all week, working extra shifts and studying hard but now he was exhausted and needed to think things through.
Pushing his key into the front-door lock, he could hear voices coming from upstairs. A male and a female. Must be Jess and Jason, he thought with a pang of disappointment; he would not have a quiet night in after all. But when he reached the lounge, Kristian was surprised to see, for the second time in a week, a familiar but not-so-welcome face.
“Kieran
?” he gasped.
“Kristian Wallace,” Kieran rose and gave him a half smile.
Kristian placed his bag onto the couch and moved closer to him. Jess was standing uncomfortably in the corner, watching Kristian intently to see what his reaction to this stranger or old friend would be. Why had she let him in? Kristian wondered. There was no way she knew him and she was usually so suspicious of strangers.
“I, uh, I didn’t think I’d be seeing you again,” Kristian was still in shock at seeing his old acquaintance.
“You mean, you hoped you wouldn’t?” Kieran moved slowly towards him.
The two men just stared at each other for a few seconds and then suddenly, they were shaking each other’s hands.
Kristian, feeling uncomfortable, turned his attention to Jess.
“So, you just let complete strangers into our house now do you?” He sounded annoyed and Jess looked hurt.
“He was sitting on the doorstep when I got back and he said he knew you. I thought you’d be pleased to see an old friend?” Jess trailed off and stared at the floor, her cheeks flushed.
“So you just took his word for it, that he knew me?” Kristian felt bad having a go at her but he was wondering how many more times this week the Order would interfere in his life. First, his workplace, now his home.
“Well, you do know him, don’t you? I thought I was doing you a favour, that’s all,” said Jess.
“Hey look,” Kieran interrupted. “I thought you’d be a bit funny with me when I got here but don’t blame her, I should have called first I know. I just wanted to catch up is all. We have a few things to talk about.”
Jess and Kristian looked at one another and then at the man sitting on the sofa. He looked odd to say the least. He was a handsome man with dark brown hair but his clothes were very odd. He wore a purple corduroy jacket with bright lime-green trousers and a ‘trap door’ T-shirt underneath the blazer.
The Phoenix Chronicles: Alone in the Light (Book ONE) Page 5
