The two other companions were Ghost from the Warriors Guild of the Shadow, who represented the many gifted organisations affiliated to the Council, and Volvir Santiago, a dark warlock whom the Order knew very little about; other than that he was an avid practitioner in dark magic and had used expertise in this to preserve his age.
The Treaty Scriptures demanded that the meeting be held in a truly neutral place but this had always been difficult as both sides had different opinions as to what was to be considered neutral. The venue for the meeting was always confirmed by the Arbitrators, who made it quite clear that they were watching the proceedings. This year it was being held in an unmarked mansion, just outside of Oxford, unknown by either side.
The house was grand, clean and empty, the present owners having put it up for sale several months previously. Both delegations arrived in the dead of night, under cloaks of secrecy and security. As well as the eight actual delegates each side was allowed two members of their security forces. It was mid-July and the meeting started at 11.30pm.
Jonathon found the meetings tiresome, as nothing ever really got resolved. The Council was always concerned that the Order was being far too oppressive to their people and that they desired more freedom. The Order would argue that the numbers of vampires, werewolves and other demonic forms were always high and this would stretch the Order’s resources too far. Each side always listened to the other, nodding in agreement but never agreeing a way forward in words. The only thing that was ever secured by the half-year Amendment meeting was the relative peace it allowed to continue.
The meeting lasted into the early hours of the following morning and many issues were adjourned or postponed until the next conference as the vampires had requested to leave before sunrise. Jonathon agreed eagerly. He was more than happy to bring the meeting to an end for another six months. His eyes drooped down as the bags underneath them weighed heavily. Andrew and Peter were both exhausted, whilst Susan was still full of energy. It had been her first time attending one of these meetings and she was always keen to learn more about the intricate duplicity between the Order and the Council.
Returning to Headquarters Jonathon considered what he would define as the successes and failures of the meeting. He managed to count the successes on one hand but when thinking of the failures he quickly ran out of digits! He reflected on what the outcome of an all-out war would be. He knew deep down that the Order could muster far more resources than the Council; both of the magical kind and manpower, including the gifted and non-gifted. They also had the Phoenix Legacy at their command, a never-ending legion of warriors who would continue the fight until victory was achieved. He knew that any war between the Order and the Council would have only one outcome – victory for the Order.
He then began to think about the cost of such a victory. Millions dead, even more maimed, countless displaced.
The devastation would be unimaginable; that was the reason the Order had never struck first. Not because it was ever worried about losing, but the fact that winning such a war would come at such an unacceptably high price meant it would not taste like victory at all.
…
Kristian sat on the river’s edge looking into the water wondering about Oliver’s last hours on earth. The soothing sound of the water lapping the verge of the bank and the birds flying overhead were the only noises he could hear. In the distance and beyond he could see boats, and on the other side of the bank there were several tower blocks of flats. The noise from the boats and the flats drifted over towards Kristian who somehow managed to block them out.
This was the spot, he realised. This is where Oliver’s lonely body had drifted, where it had been discovered.
Kristian noticed his backside was wet from sitting on the damp grass, and the jeans he was wearing were turning a dirty shade of green.
The last hours of Oliver’s life haunted Kristian; he wondered what would go through his mind if he were in a similar situation. Oliver was probably the bravest man that he had ever met and considering who his friends were, that was no easy feat.
The sun had set many hours ago and Kristian had wanted to be out patrolling the streets but his legs were tired and his mind drained. He had spent the long weeks searching in vain for some small clue. Nothing ever came his way; he never seemed to have that lucky break he so desperately needed.
As the evening drifted on he felt the urge to go home, get some sleep and to re-evaluate his plan tomorrow. The thought of giving up and going back to London crossed his mind, but he had little to go home for. Term was over and exams were finished. Jess was having a wonderful time with Jason, as she had told him on the phone.
If there was one thing he wanted to go home for it was Jess, but she was happy enough without him. Sure, she worried about him, but she was in love and that took up most of her time. The memory of her face disarmed him in a way he never thought it would, and her voice had brought a clarity to his chaotic mind. Even the thought of investigating Solasis Krull could not motivate him to go back; he was staying put for as long as he needed.
Moving back into the main grounds, trees blocked out most of the light from the city and the parks lamps. Slowly making his way through the gloom he reached the path; nerves jangled, the feeling that he was being watched crept over him, prickling. He turned suddenly, jumping on the spot ready to face whatever was behind him but to his surprise there was nothing and nobody there. Heaving a sigh of relief, he turned back to the path but was taken aback to find it blocked by an ominous silhouette right in front him. Preparing his defence, he raised his fists and awaited a blow. When one did not come, he cautiously looked through his arms and made out a tall, thin woman. Her full appearance was hard to discern in the dark but it was clear that she was a vampire, her complexion pale and figure slim. He hesitated for an instant over whether to launch into an attack but something told him he wasn’t in direct danger and that he should ask some questions of his would-be attacker.
“Who are you?” he shouted threateningly.
The vampire responded instantly, fearing that if she did not calm this man’s nerves, she would soon be dead, “My name is Leandra. I honestly mean you no harm.”
Kristian scanned the area around him, looking for others. He was sure she would not be alone, and he was certain she was a vampire, and no vampire could be trusted.
“Mean me no harm, huh?” he scoffed with his arms still raised, defensively, but ready to attack. “So I suppose creeping up on people in the dead of night is normal for friendly vampires in Germany is it?”
She was taken aback the instant he said vampire; she was astonished. She had been told that the Phoenix held impressive intuitive powers, but she could not help feeling impressed.
“I’m sorry for creeping up on you, but it’s not safe for me to talk to you openly. You see, my friend, not all vampires are your enemies,” her voice was soft and gentle.
Listening to the tone of her voice as well as what Leandra had said, Kristian relaxed a little. Feeling slightly more at ease, he lowered his fists.
“Well, I have never met one who isn’t. I assume Leceth sent you to warn me off?”
“No!” she said emphatically and somewhat abruptly, “I do not serve Leceth. My master is far braver and more honourable than he will ever be. As I’ve said, I’m your friend. Not all vampires are bad, believe it or not. There are still some who hold up the foundations of the Treaty. There are loads like me that believe that peace is beneficial for all races, not just humanity.”
Kristian could hardly believe his ears; never before had he heard anything like this. If there were factions out there who supported the Treaty and the Order, he was sure he would have been told. Wouldn’t he? he thought.
“Okay,” he said warily, “just say that I believe you, why are you telling me this? And why are you here now?”
“The truth is, I’ve been following you for weeks now, and this has been the first chance I have had to speak to you away from prying eyes. Just as I h
ave followed you, I followed your friend – the other Phoenix.”
His heart stood still. Suddenly a breakthrough. He fought back the urge to attack this woman, to hurt her. Where had she and her ‘we can all be friends’ sentiments been when Oliver was having his heart ripped out of his chest? Casting these thoughts aside, he realised that she had information; she may be able to help him.
“Oliver,” he whispered, “do you know what happened to him?” His voice was trembling with emotion.
The vampire looked down at the ground, a look of sorrow on her face.
“Well, I had managed to keep track of him most of the time. His death, I did not witness. I lost him several days before that occurred.” Her explanation going some way to placate Kristian’s initial anger, she stretched out her hand and held out a piece of paper. Taking it from her immediately, Kristian smoothed it out into his palm. It was a receipt of some kind.
“What is this?” Kristian barked, bemused.
Leandra looked over her shoulder, “We must move quickly. It is a shipping order receipt for an ancient artifact – for what? I know not. All I do know is that the Phoenix obtained it from a barman at Das Ferkel. The next day he went to the address on the receipt,” as she spoke she pointed to an address at the top of the piece of paper.
“It’s a warehouse on the outskirts of the city. A Herr Bauch, who shows up on none of our records, owns it. The Phoenix broke into the premises and that is the last time I saw him.”
Kristian had finally got the clue he was after. He moved closer to the vampire and in a moment, which in retrospect he deemed foolish, he embraced her tightly. Pulling himself back, he whispered, “Thank you.”
“Please, there is no need to thank me. Just be careful, okay? I cannot help you if you go there alone. You will need help if you plan to break in. Help I cannot offer.” Again, as she spoke, she looked over her shoulder scanning the outline of the trees. “I must leave.” Wasting no time at all, she darted backwards and was soon lost to the shadows.
Kristian remained on his spot for what seemed like an eternity. He thought about what he had just been told and knew he must head to Das Ferkel and speak to the barman Leandra had told him about. He suddenly remembered that he had already visited this bar and that the barman had told him that he had never seen Oliver. Lying swine, he thought. Crunching the receipt in his left hand, he began to make a plan of action in his head. He would go to the tavern and this time be more forceful with the barman. Then he would return to the hostel and report straight back to Jonathon. A smile crossed his face; finally he was getting somewhere! He started into a jog, which soon became a sprint and in no time at all he was leaping over the fence at the edge of the park.
…
It was not long before Kristian found himself walking down the stone stairs and pushing through the glass doors of Das Ferkel. As soon as he entered, all the heads turned to look at him warily, and then quickly returned to their drinks. He instantly clocked the barman who on seeing Kristian looked panicked. Walking over to the bar, Kristian calmly drifted through the sea of people and with one hand signal, gently leaned over the counter at the bar and loudly spoke in the barman’s ear. Shaking and almost dropping the bottle in his hands, the barman heard every word Kristian said. “We need a little chat! I don’t think that you have been entirely honest with me.”
Gulping, the barman nodded and pointed in the direction of an empty booth in the corner. Walking around the bar, he whistled at one of the three barmaids who were all busy flirting with the many leery male customers and with one arm, pointed towards the bar.
Kristian allowed the barman to walk in front of him; there was a part of him that felt more than uncomfortable turning his back on this lowlife. Sitting down in the booth, Kristian smiled and then quickly jumped into questions about the warehouse, Oliver and the receipt.
The conversation lasted for twenty minutes and the barman was more than compliant, divulging everything that Kristian wanted to know. He told him that the building was once owned by a Herr Bauch who passed away last year and that there were vampires living there now.
Kristian felt like the exchange was going well; the barman had found out about the delivery of an ancient artifact to the warehouse and told Oliver about it. Oliver had been far more intimidating the first time they had met and the barman was not so witless as to try to keep information from him. This sounded feasible to Kristian. He now had two accounts of Oliver knowing about this special delivery and going to the warehouse. It seemed to him that Oliver would have visited the place searching for answers. Suppressing the urge to go to the warehouse immediately and break in himself, he realised that he had to be smarter than that if he wanted to last longer than Oliver. Besides, Leandra, the vampire, and the barman could just be telling him exactly what he wanted to hear! However, his Phoenix intuition was telling him that he was not being lied to this time. He knew he should return to the hostel and call Jonathon. He thought about waiting for backup, then with reinforcements, pounce on the warehouse, and make the bastards pay.
Once Kristian believed that he had extracted all relevant information he left the bar feeling much more hopeful. He sensed that nothing could now go wrong, he had his lead; Oliver’s killers would soon be brought to justice and he could return home to London, to Jess.
However, unbeknown to Kristian, his hopes might have be misplaced; he had been so engrossed in his conversation with the barman that he had not maintained a watch of his surroundings, as he had been trained to do. Kristian was completely unaware that his conversation and movements in Das Ferkel had been closely watched by a hooded figure in the corner. His eyes had not once left Kristian and as Kristian left, the man in the hood had followed him out. Looking across the street, ducking in and out of the shadows, he followed Kristian, staying a few steps behind him. His feet moved gracefully; he was swift and cunning. He had been well coached, his job required this special tactical gift. Staying far enough back not be noticed, he was close enough to hear the boy’s mobile phone conversation. Jess had phoned Kristian to see how he was getting on. After his breakthrough with the investigation, Kristian was so happy that he began to tell Jess every detail of what he was doing. His joy was making him more open and honest than he was normally.
Still following closely behind, the hooded figure slowly steadied his pace, so as to keep a safe distance from Kristian. Kristian slowed to concentrate more on his chat with Jess.
After tracking Kristian for thirty minutes, the hooded man was getting weary; luckily for him though, they had eventually reached the hostel. Kristian fumbled for his keys and unlocked the outer door and let himself in.
Stepping even further back, the man watched Kristian enter his hostel. This is it, he thought to himself. This boy was a Phoenix and he had just explained his entire mission to his friend on the phone. Reaching for his own phone, the man found a number and placed it to his ear.
A few seconds later he spoke, “Hey, this is Canola. You will not believe this. They have sent another Phoenix. Come here quick. He is going to pay us a lot for this one!”
…
- Chapter Ten -
The Face of the Enemy
Walking through the door Kristian managed to take off his jacket whilst still on the phone to Jess and threw it onto the sofa. The room still had a mouldy smell to it, even though he had left the windows open for the last three weeks. Discarded takeaway trays were everywhere. Although he had paid not to share his room at the hostel with anyone it was still smelly and mould-ridden; fortunately it was large in size and split into two separate rooms. One half had a single bed and cupboards, it was separated from the other room by two short walls that stretched a metre out from either side. This other room contained a sofa bed, angled towards a bookshelf with three German and one Polish book on it.
“Okay. Okay. I’ve got to go now. I need to check in,” Kristian said in a tone that suggested that he really didn’t want to go.
“All right but I want you to
ring me tomorrow when you have checked the place out, okay? Take care,” Jess replied.
“I Will,” said Kristian, as he ended the call and tossed the phone onto the sofa. Walking into the bedroom he sat on the bed he was using and began to take his shoes off, then his watch. Placing his watch on the bedside cabinet he glanced at the time as he put it down. It was ten to one German time, which made it ten to twelve back home; he wondered for an instant who would be up if he called now. It was a thought that wasn’t designed to put him off making the call, he was just curious and his mind was wondering. Probably Rachel, she always seemed to be up these days, always doing the extra shift. She is soon going to work herself ill, he thought.
Walking back towards the sofa he looked around the floor, his eyes scanning for any food that looked edible. There was clearly nothing on the floor that he could eat without running the risk of spending the next day with his face down the toilet. He then spotted a half-full bottle of now flat and warm Coke on the floor. Picking it up and quickly taking off the top with barely a fizz, Kristian drained the remainder of the two-litre bottle without taking a breath. Wiping his face he chucked the empty plastic bottle on the floor with the rest of the rubbish. Looking around at the mess, he felt a little disgusted in himself, he had never been such a slob before, it was just the mission, he told himself.
Report in, he thought as he picked up his phone and walked back to the bed. Sitting on the edge of the bed he began to flip through his contact list until he came across the phone number he needed. His thumb hovered over the number for a second and just before he could press it the lights in the room went out. Standing up instantly his eyes strained to adapt to the sudden darkness and before he could think of anything else a large explosion sounded in his room. Blue light lit the room as the front door flew off its hinges and smashed against the opposing wall. Diving for cover without thought, Kristian found himself sprawled out behind the sofa. Lying there, filled with a sense of shock, he heard two quietly spoken voices.
The Phoenix Chronicles: Alone in the Light (Book ONE) Page 16
