The Phoenix Chronicles_Alone in the Light

by M. K. Williams

  Bowing her head, Rachel could only think about how, if she had run faster, looked harder, maybe they could have got to her in time. Rachel was never one for frontline fighting, she preferred her desk, and she preferred the less violent side to her work. Then for an instant she wondered if there was ever a non-violent side to her work anymore?

  “I’ve got to get some sleep and so do you. If you say no, you know I can order you to!” Susan looked at Rachel, whose eyes were filled with tears.

  “Yeah, I’m more tired than I think,” Rachel replied.

  Rachel retired to one of the many accommodation rooms in the headquarters complex. As she was lying in bed, the sunlight came through the window, hitting her tear-drenched face. Her eyes had disclosed the pain she felt inside. Placing her head on the pillow she began to breathe more deeply to try to slow her sobbing so she could drift off. The image of the bleeding woman haunted her; it took nearly an hour of weeping before she finally drifted off for a few hours of uneasy sleep.

  …

  It wasn’t the busiest day Kristian had ever worked but it was right up there with the days he knew he should have phoned in sick. He never hated making coffee; he did not see his job as hard, just boring on occasion, even when it was busy. The customers he served were often rude for no reason and their hectic lifestyle weren’t appealing to him. He had moved to London to study and to get away from the close-knit community he had grown up in.

  It was not that he hated home, it was just small and stagnant, and he wanted to experience the big city; the world. He enjoyed living in London; there was always something to do. It had a huge metropolitan feel but it also had history and character. He had an eye for the beauty in life, he enjoyed marvelling at the buildings London had to offer, old and new.

  There was one building whose appearance he didn’t appreciate; it always sent a shiver down his spine whenever he walked past it. When he had first moved to London, it seemed he couldn’t avoid the place, but after nearly two years, he had perfected his ability to steer clear of it. The building and the people inside seemed far more than a distant memory; they were more like a dream. Being nearly twenty Kristian often felt he had seen many things that had made him far wiser than his years. The truth was somewhat different; in fact he knew he could be very immature at times, not just in his actions but also in his thoughts. Considering what he had been through, what he had lost, and what he had missed out on, he could understand why he felt like that. However, dwelling on the past was not something he enjoyed doing, it was the past now and he intended to let it lie there. The day seemed to go quickly considering it wasn’t that busy, and before he knew it, it was ten to six. The last ten minutes seemed to drag a little, there wasn’t much to do and he spent the time clearing away empty trays and pointlessly wiping clean tables.

  It had gone six and the journey home took no more than twenty minutes from Leicester Square to Angel. It wasn’t a direct link but it didn’t take long. The two-bedroomed flat he shared with his best friend Jess was so close to Angel tube station he could lean out of his kitchen window and throw stones at the Transport for London sign. As he shut his front door behind him and began to walk up the stairs, he knew Jess was in, even before he saw her. Blasting out of the stereo were songs that clearly came from an ‘Ultimate Disney’ collection.

  Walking into the lounge, Jess was standing there cleaning and singing along to a song from Beauty and the Beast. Kristian laughed out loud; he loved how Jess was so sweet, so innocent. Moreover, the fact that she didn’t care what anybody thought of her inspired him.

  In her own little world of ‘happy ever after’, Jess quickly turned to the doorway to see Kristian standing there, chuckling at her.

  “Welcome home, Kris,” she said as she threw the cloth she was holding at him.

  “Housework, this time of the day?” Kristian wasn’t surprised really; she was always doing housework. She liked a clean house, but it was nearly half six on a Sunday evening and this was slightly odd, even for her.

  “As always there’s an ulterior motive behind my good deeds.” A little smile crossed her face to which Kristian sat down and gestured with his hands for her to continue.

  “What it is… well you know it’s Andy’s party tonight?” Jess started.

  Before she could continue, Kristian leapt to his feet.

  “Oh crap! I completely forgot. What time? I’ve absolutely nothing to wear!”

  Walking around in a strange haze of self-indulgence he totally forgot that Jess was trying to tell him something. His eyes connected back with hers and he saw she was grinning at him.

  “I’m sorry, Jess, carry on,” he said as he fell back into his seat.

  “Well…” continued Jess, “Jason’s going to be there and I think tonight is the night when we’re gonna,” she paused, and hoped that Kristian would realise what she meant and not pursue the matter. She wasn’t a virgin, she wasn’t even a prude, but when it came to her own love life, she always coiled away.

  “Going, to, what, sorry?” Kristian knew what she was getting at, it had been their main topic of conversation for nearly a month, but he wanted to play. Now blushing, Jess stood up, her whole body seemed to turn away from the conversation, and her hands quickly grasped for the Hoover.

  “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! You know I think you’re beautiful and you’re the sweetest person I know, I think you worry too much. If he likes you, he won’t care how clean the kitchen is or how plumped up the cushions are!”

  Kristian didn’t like being so frank with her but she really had no idea what a catch she was. She was the same age as him, smart, kind, and pretty wasn’t the word for her. She had long brown hair, with beautiful deep blue eyes’; she had a true ‘English rose’ look about her.

  “I’m sorry. I really like him,” she let go of the Hoover, she had clearly done enough cleaning for now.

  “I think I’m going to leave in about an hour. Karen says they’ve been drinking since two!” She giggled.

  Andrew’s monthly parties were renowned at Uni as being the event of the month; a must-go.

  “Okay, I’ll be ready by then. I need a shower, I stink of coffee. Which isn’t a bad thing, it’s just not a good one.” Getting off the sofa, he made his way to the door, but before leaving the room, he turned and kissed Jess on the cheek, giving her a reassuring hug.

  “We’re going to have a great night and everything with you and Jason will be perfect, you deserve it.”

  Jess stood and stared after her friend. He was more than a best friend, he was like the older brother she never had. He was sweet and caring, and she knew everything about him, she thought. Though unbeknownst to Jess, there were some secrets he had kept even from her.

  …

  The air was cold with a bitter wind, the sun had just begun to rise and the rays of light still hadn’t touched the heart of the Berlin streets. Michael was on his daily jog along the bank of the river Spree; he started from his home in Treptow, on one side, and he ran as far as Rummelsburg.

  The run usually lasted just over an hour but today there was something different. His legs seemed to ache like never before, and the cold air was making it hard for him to breathe. He had been running for over forty minutes and he still hadn’t made it back to his side of the river. He still had to jog through the woodlands.

  As he finally made it to the bridge and began to cross the river the thought of just carrying on home entered his mind.

  Just skip the woods; it would be the easier option. However, his second thought was, I’m not a quitter. If it hurts it hurts. If I stop short today I will just stop short tomorrow. He was this determined in everything he did, and it wasn’t long before the greenery and tall trees began to appear in the distance.

  As he entered the woodland, his pace began to quicken; the pain in his legs started to relent and soon he was almost at the end of the forest. He could hear the small waves of the river hitting the bank and the birds in the trees began to sing their early
morning songs. He found these background sounds beautiful, it was part of the reason he did his early morning jog; that and the fear of getting older and looking it!

  The cold air soon began to carry an awful smell with it. The bitterness that filled his lungs suddenly took over and he found it impossible to breathe at the speed he was running. Almost stumbling into a tree he halted his pace to an abrupt stop; stretching out his hands he caught his fall on the branches. Taking deep breaths in, the air entering his lungs stung and made him cough uncontrollably. Trying to bring his breathing back under control, his mind began to think what the strange smell could be. It was clearly coming from the river. Sewage, he thought. Someone must have dumped something there. As well as being a little arrogant, he was also a very curious thirty-eight-year-old. Stomping through the small bushes, breaking off a few branches from the overhanging trees, he soon found himself at the river’s edge. His heart froze and the cold air that he was trying so hard not to breathe in a few moments ago, seemed to rush into his chest. His eyes widened as the reality hit him. It was obvious what it was, but he could not believe what he was seeing. The stench soon overwhelmed him completely and before he had time to turn around, he vomited straight into the river. He walked backwards, his hands trembled with the horror of it, as he slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out his mobile phone.

  Sixty minutes later there was a helicopter flying overhead and a horde of forensic officers and police surrounding the riverbank. The whole park was cordoned off and sitting on a bench away from all the action was Michael and a young policewoman. Not only did he find it hard to breathe, he now also found it hard to speak; the taste of bile lingered in his mouth. The words that did leave his mouth were spoken softly with a slight hesitation behind each sentence. The policewoman seemed to just nod her head and write things down. She had not seen the crime scene yet but she had seen many horrors before and knew she wouldn’t be overwhelmed.

  “Then, I called you guys,” Michael was glad that he had come to the end of it.

  “Okay, thank you,” said the policewoman. “My colleague may like to have a word with you but we understand you’re in shock. If anything comes back to you later on, you have my contact details, so please get in touch, and we’ll do the same for you if we feel we need to ask you any more questions. Thanks for your help.” Placing a comforting hand on his leg, she slowly moved to her feet. On turning around to look in the direction of the crime scene, she saw two junior officers, crouched over, and vomiting into, a public bin. She chuckled to herself.

  “Ah, what it was to be so young and innocent,” she thought aloud.

  Walking over, she stopped and stood next to a tall gentleman in a dodgy suit. Turning towards him she spoke.

  “Sir, I have his statement, he doesn’t know much.”

  “Did he touch the body? Did he turn him over?” asked the tall suited man.

  “No he didn’t come into contact with the victim; he just saw the body in the river and phoned the police straight away.”

  “Good,” said the tall gentleman. “Because this case is going to give even me nightmares.” After speaking, the man walked off.

  Not even thinking of following her boss, her eyes were fixed upon the forensic team as they began to examine the body in the water. Two men in white overalls, in knee-high water, slowly began to right the overturned body of a young man, ready to extract him from his watery grave. He had blonde hair and had to be no older than twenty-five. His build was large and muscular as if he played rugby.

  An attractive young man killed in his prime, thought the officer.

  From where she stood, she could see marks along his arms and legs, bruises that suggested he had been restrained. Then her eyes fell to the injury that was clearly the cause of death. A hole in his chest began to empty water; a large cavity had been cut in his thorax not only through his clothing and skin, but through bone as well.

  The hole was just off centre and, without even much knowledge of human anatomy, the officer knew it was where his heart would have been. From where she was standing, it looked as if someone had cut out his heart, the thought sending a chill down her spine. Her chills soon changed to pure revulsion as her eyes moved up to the young man’s expression. The dreadful anguish of his death was plainly evident on his face. His eyelids stretched wide, eyes filled with terror, his mouth open and distorted. Dread clouded her mind and she had only one thought. This man must have been alive when someone had cut out his beating heart, an awful fate she couldn’t imagine. The autopsy later that day confirmed her worst fears.

  …

  - Chapter Three -

  A Fallen Hero

  The outside of the building was in stark contrast to everything else about the Cardinal Office, which was the official title for the headquarters for the Order of Light. The exterior was deliberately plain and inconspicuous, but the majority of the interior was very different, it was in a grand style, extravagant and imposing. The Cardinal Office was the ultimate symbol of power and everyone who entered held it in awe. The headquarters for the Order of Light had moved several times since the organisation was created, but the Cardinal Office had always been used by the Order, in some fashion. The office itself even predated the Nariasdem’s records. The site on which the mammoth building now stood was home to the world’s most extensive collection of magical artifacts. It also housed the ‘Great Library’, the Nariasdem’s largest and most comprehensive collection of both conventional and mystical texts.

  The reason for the Order’s consolidation on the site was due to the magical barrier found within it, which only allowed the good and true of heart to enter. This barrier was discovered over three millennia ago and ever since, the place had been used to store and protect that which was held powerful and important from the forces of darkness.

  Nowadays the barrier was used to full industrial potential. The Great Library and the artifact stores now filled the entire space that the barrier protected.

  The interior of the building was lavishly decorous; the walls and floors were all marble, the fixtures were all gold. The exterior, however, was somewhat different. It was 1960s grey brick with blacked-out windows. Two bulky oak doors at the centre of the building appeared to be the only entrance. The building itself wasn’t distinctively ugly, it was just plain, almost as if it had been designed that way in an effort to go unnoticed. It was something that people would just walk by and give no thought to the wonders that were happening within its cold, solid walls every day.

  Tucked away, deep inside the building, was the main conference room, currently being used by Jonathon Paige, Director of the Order, who was holding his weekly consolidation meeting. Today it was focusing on the upcoming half-yearly amendment summit. That amendment meeting was held twice a year between the Order of Light and representatives from the Council of Tivernal.

  The Council was the largest representation of what Jonathon referred to as ‘the forces that dwell in the shadows’. That underworld was made up of Vampires, Lycanthropes, Vinji, Sorcerers and several smaller factions of gifted humans who generally used their gifts to exploit others.

  The business at these meetings would generally just be tit for tat, covering issues such as the amount of human blood being transferred to the Vampires or the quota of how many new Vampires and Lycanthropes were being sired. Occasionally, more pressing issues arose, like a rogue faction on either side starting an offensive to try and undermine the Treaty and cause conflict between the two sides. This usually involved a dark sorcerer of some sort, conjuring up some form of ancient magic to try to bring forth yet another apocalypse. Sometimes it was a Vinji impersonating a head of state and attempting to start a human-to-human war in some small African country; but it was usually resolved quickly by either side.

  The purpose of the summit was simple: to ensure peace and stability between the two opposing factions. It seemed to have worked for as long as human records had existed, the two parties had never directly gone head to head. />
  Jonathon hated these meetings. When he had first started as Director, any gathering or summit with the Council had always been amicable and without stress, but over the last two years, relations had become somewhat frosty. The representatives from the Council were all very different and seemed to disagree with each other about everything. They often sat there and argued amongst themselves. It was not unlike having a meeting with a room full of schoolchildren; although children did not have the power to initiate a war and kill countless numbers of people.

  The half-year amendment summit was a tricky affair and Jonathon always chose his words wisely; every time the Council met, he couldn’t help but feel a little smug at the way he directed them. He did have the upper hand after all. He had more cards to play; his side was stronger and more organised.

  In other conference rooms dotted around headquarters, more meetings were taking place. Jean Tanner, a young half-French, half-English man, was holding a conference on how best to assign members to different task forces set up by the Order.

  Another formal discussion was being held downstairs in the smallest office in the building. Roman, a powerful wizard and a prominent member of the Order, was chairing it and the topic of conversation was the whereabouts of the Order’s new office, the choices being Buenos Aires or Lima.

  Tall, middle-aged and muscular Brendan Sloane was also holding an official Order meeting, which was taking place in the second-largest conference room and the subject was getting everyone a little heated. The room was beautifully decorated, oak throughout with a grand Quercus table in the centre. There were no windows and, right where a window would have been perfectly placed, there was a magnificent portrait of a previous Director of the Order. The stately table was large and could easily sit twenty people around it, but on this occasion there were only four, huddled at one end as if their conversation was top secret and for their ears only.