“Shut up! Shut up!” he shouted over and over again. All of his frustrations, fears and anxieties were released upon John’s pummeled body. Lance and Adonis made their way back to the rooftop as the last three wolves scurried away. They were shocked at what they saw. Cesare, pounding the blood covered pavement, Rufus standing with his arms folded watching intensely.
Lance ran over to stop his brother but Rufus didn’t allow it. The other three men huddled up away from Cesare as he set the body ablaze. Rufus smiled and reached for a cigar but didn’t have any. Lance gave him a cigarette as he lit one for himself; shaking his head and looking away as Cesare began pounding the next man, losing all control.
Rufus walked up to one of the last two and blew smoke in his face. “Once my Knight tastes blood, he becomes rabid. He cannot stop. If you don’t want to look like road kill over there, I suggest you fucking talk. Now tell us what you are doing here. Why are you sacrificing witches and why are you parading around as the Order of Mopses.”
“We are the Order of Mopses. We are Ordo Viscenti Regalus. We are the Southern Wolf Pack. The united orders we are, something not even you Hidden can’t even achieve. Those who seek the coming of Armageddon. Those burnings you speak of are not our doing.”
“Every burning site had this upon it!” Rufus shouted, showing him the cloth retrieved from the burning site. The man looked at him confused, and Rufus soon realized the cloth was blank.
“Well I’ll be damned. Thank you my friend, you have served your purpose,” Rufus said as he and Adonis grabbed the other two and threw them off the building.
“It’s gotta be more to this,” Lance said shaking his head.
“Exactly, and I don’t have time for this shit. Someone’s pulling the rug over our heads. Sheeple had nothing to do with the burnings,” Rufus said looking at his watch.
“It’s nearly 3:00am. I’m going to see Dante. His classes are just about over. I want to hear from the horse's mouth what's going on and why he hasn’t informed us of any visions. Why these fuckers know something we don’t. I'll call a Round Table in the morning, and summon the Council of Nine so stay posted,” Rufus said jumping off the building and driving off in his jeep.
“Well guys, I gotta go check on Bibi. See you in the morning,” Adonis said as a pair of wings grew from his back. He took flight into the night sky. Cesare rinsed his hands, but Lance stayed quiet, although having a lot to say and ask.
As they got in the car, Cesare checked his phone hoping to see a message about Mila’s status. He was starting to go mad, and Lance was feeling quite uncomfortable.
“I gotta check on Mila. Something's wrong,” he said pulling out of the parking lot.
“Yeah. You damn right something's wrong. What the fuck was that?”
“Don’t worry about it Lance. Everything's fine.”
“Fine? You just pummeled two guys with your bare hands. That type of anger isn’t normal, not even for us,” Lance said.
“Go ahead.”
“Go ahead and what?”
“Light a cigarette. That way I don’t have to hear your fucking mouth,” Cesare answered. Lance was frustrated and wanted to get out of the car, but wasn’t in the mood for hitchhiking.
“What’s wrong with Mila?” Lance asked.
“I don’t know. Messalla said it’s some sort of enchantment. Alchemy,” Cesare said driving at 100 miles an hour.
They pulled in front of the Blue Palace to a relatively empty parking lot. Bibi met them in the lobby and she drug them to Mila's suite.
“Don’t worry Cesare. She's fallen into the black sleep. It’s an old myth that the Mother of our order will visit a Dakini during her time of greatest need. She's fighting for her own soul Cesare. We have to stand with her and give her strength,” Bibi said as Cesare walked up to the bed.
“She's cold,” he said grabbing her hand. Lance sat in a chair and held his head back as he just wanted this night to end.
“And how long has she been like this?”
“Honestly, shortly after you and Messalla left,” Bibi answered. Cesare placed his hand over her head and saw darkness, something was clouding her mind, or keeping him out of it. He concentrated harder but the pull was strong and forced him out.
He embraced her and began thinking of all the good times they had together, pleading with her to wake up. Her body began to warm up and she began to shake and cough. She jerked at his touch and tried to fight.
“Mila! It’s me!” he said, as she curled up as if she was afraid. She grabbed her head as there was a heaviness that caused her to fall to her pillow.
“I’m so tired. I can’t stay awake,” she said as her skin turned from a light blue, back to normal.
“Baby, what happened?”
“I don’t know. I can’t remember,” she said reaching for his arm.
“Fuck this. I need a shower,” Lance said taking his clothes off and going in Mila's shower. He felt a strange energy in the bathroom, but he had enough weirdness for the night and paid it no mind. He just wanted to get clean.
“I have to go, Donnie's texting me, wondering why I’m not home. See you,” Bibi said waving.
Cesare waited for Lance to finish and took a shower as well. He noticed a dark energy near the tub but had no clue what it was. Lance fell asleep on the chaise and Cesare embraced the sleeping Mila.
“Something's off. Something's missing,” he said as her energy felt weak and broken.
He grabbed his phone and began searching for a ritual of exorcism in the Parish database he still had access to. There was a church, not far from the palace that had the book in question listed in its library. He tied the rosary around her neck and kissed it, falling asleep with his lady in his arms.
28
Rufus Sosius, the Elder
Rufus returned to the Temple with Cesare heavy on his mind. It had been a long while since he witnessed one of his breakdowns and wondered what the cause was. He kicked off his boots and sat on his throne only to receive strange stares from Claudius who was playing Sudoku.
“What’s that look for?”
“Well, not that I am exempt from participation in the incident, but your Dactyl came to the temple. Something was strange about the young lad because for one, he entered the temple uninvited,” Claudius said. Rufus turned to him looking for an explanation. Claudius went on telling him of the events with Callan and Rufus felt a sense of responsibility for his embarrassment, wanting to understand why it happened.
He sighed. “For fucks sake! I can’t get a moments rest I tell you. I’ll go see Dante. The last thing I need is an angry Dactyl hanging over our heads,” he said rubbing his beard.
“Did you know the boy was a eunuch?” Claudius asked laughing, looking over his glasses. Rufus nearly choked on the water he was drinking.
“Ah, now I see. I’m pretty sure that situation got bad.”
“Mhm.”
Rufus sighed as he could only imagine what really took place as he knew Cesare had a knack for depravity. Dante being his friend, he wanted nothing more than to correct the wrongs of his Knights.
“In Cesare’s defense, the boy was hexed before he came here so the crazy was his own. Don’t worry too much about it. If you need me I’ll be in my chamber. I’m going to rest, because I need to clear my mind before you call the Round Table,” Claudius said, excusing himself.
Rufus couldn’t rest until he took a hike to the Promethean Mountain to give his sympathies to Callan and Dante for the actions of his Knights. As he walked the path, the pixies were gathered in a procession of sorts. Rufus walked up to them as they were weeping.
“Dear pixies, what has happened?” he asked. A large, stout pixie flew up to Rufus’s face and began to speak to him in his own squeaky language. Rufus understood. “Murder?!” he said as he looked upon the crushed bones of two small bodies.
“Hmm,” he said as he looked towards the Parthenon. Rufus helped the pixies erect a grave for the two lovers and carved an effigy for
their demise. It was a skill he hadn’t used in ages, and felt a sense of accomplishment by doing so. Rufus was a great mason, taught by those who erected the ancient Coliseum in Rome.
He also worked as a sculptor; carving the faces of Rome’s greatest emperors into history.The small sculpture took him back, and he smiled as he remembered his father teaching him yet, his father’s face was far beyond his memory. He left the pixies to grieve but picked the same flower which caught Callan’s eye during his passing earlier.
As the night sky reached its peak, Dante lectured his class of seers and oracles as he did every night. There they sat in the main classroom of the Order of Dactyls listening as Dante’s voice echoed in the large, open room. In essence, it was a grand library rounded by thousands of books and scrolls from all ages. There was one long rectangular table in the center so all could face the teacher and it was set upon a marble mosaic of the Dactyl seal.
“We are the keepers of God's voice. We do our best to avert the crises which we see in our visions by making an informed decision which would alter that course of destiny. Choice is key. If we see the disaster on the left, we have the choice to face it, or go right,” Dante said standing in a room of thirteen men and women.
“As we come into the seventh Age of Aquarius, we did not do so by making easy decisions. For we live in a realm where war is a necessity, but often an avoidable one. And as we take up the paths of our past seers and oracles, we must remember that our gifts are not our own, but our kind's. We offer choice when there is seemingly no answer. We the Order of Dactyls need to not interfere, rather point to the crossroad and allow our brethren to choose for themselves,” he said as he pointed to two opened doors at the end of the room.
“Now then, it is now the third hour of the day, prepare yourselves for meditation at 3:33,” he said dismissing the class. The students turned around and gathered their things; each dressed in traditional togas and robes, like their ancient forebears. Dante believed in the ancient ways full heartedly and their attire was to be of proper statues. Calliope was the last to gather her things and headed for the door when he called her name.
“Yes Mr. Dante?” she answered, with her satchel dangling off her left shoulder.
“How have you been sleeping?”
She shrugged indifferent to Dante's question. “Ok I suppose. Why do you ask?”
“I ask because I've felt an unrest these past three nights. I wondered if my understudy felt the same disturbance,” he said walking down the stairs with his staff in hand.
“Understudy? But Callan?”
Dante waved his hands. “You are a more fitting soul dearest Calliope,” he said smiling.
“I’m honored. But if you mean have I had that impending doom feeling, then yes. But it hasn’t kept me up. What's the matter?” she asked as Dante began to stare into space. His mind began to drift into another place; one which smelled of smoke and death. Calliope dropped her books and grabbed Dante by the shoulders, shaking him to.
“Mr. Dante? Where did you go just then?” she looked concerned. Dante smiled.
“I just need a nap. Will you light the beacon once Orion's belt is over head?”
“The beacon? But sir...”
“That will be all Calliope. Thank you,” Dante said cutting her off. Dante walked outside feeling the warm air caress his skin. While he looked no more than fifty years of age, Dante had lived for hundreds of years; some days his body reminded him of that fact. No one really knew how old Dante was, and while he physically looked young, often too much walking would remind his body that it was not as young as it looked.
This night he leaned on his staff heavily as he stepped upon the large cobblestone mosaic of his order’s seal laying pristinely for all to see at the entrance of the Parthenon. The Order of Dactyls was one of the oldest human orders, yet fewest in numbers.
The Parthenon, where they lived, studied and perfected their gift, was often patrolled and kept by the Centaur who lived in villages below. Dante loved the sounds of their celebrations as they were a proud and gentle people despite their appearance.
Dante's dwellings had become known as the Owl Tower as the very top of it was shaped like that of an owl’s head. It was tall with a seemingly never-ending spiral staircase to get to the only room at the top.
The tower was to him a long way away as he walked along the polished cobblestone walkway alongside the Parthenon. He looked to the east where the dome of Salamanca glistened in the moonlight noticing a large dragon perched atop it and the small make of a man climbing up the side. He giggled.
“Damn dragons make anything gold their home,” he said entering his tower. He knocked on the floor with his staff three times and began to float to the top. He reached a round doorway and walked in to the smell of earl grey tea and lavender bundles.
“Right on time,” he said, walking over to his kitchen area. “One thing I can appreciate about technology, timed tea,” he said to himself giggling.
As he settled down, the ticking of the mounted clock above the door began to send him into a trance. Dante closed his eyes and let his mind drift off to a sleeping state. Suddenly he began to smell something burning.
“Oh no, you left the tea on the burner old boy. Get up,” he said to himself, as he forcing himself to wake.
The more he struggled, the deeper into sleep he would go. Dante's body began to stiffen and he was grinding his teeth. “Wake up!” he shouted, instantly waking to a dark room.
He panted hard as if he had been running, his clothing wet and stained with blood. He rose to his feet and realized he was outside, yet the moon wasn’t right.
In the Hollow, the moon always shown itself full, yet this moon was a waning crescent. He took a deep breath and followed the scent of the smoke. To his dismay he saw the Temple of Salamanca set ablaze.
His eyes grew to the size of grapefruits as he bore witness to an atrocity. The temple burned and angels commanded the sky with weapons in hand.
What is this? he asked himself, as he stepped closer to see the carnage beneath. Humans in chains, standing in line to be burned. Books being piled by angels and incinerated.
“That is the future that we live in,” a voice came from behind him.
Dante turned around, startled at the figure which stood before him. It was himself, yet he appeared in a body much younger than the one he was in at the time.
“What madness is this? Who has placed this sorcery upon me?” he asked, pointing his staff at his seemingly younger self.
“No sorcery but your own,” the younger looking Dante said holding his hands up. “I have come to bring you a warning not to interfere in the affairs which the Magia deem necessary to perform. Although their ruthlessness is nothing which we can understand, it is necessary. It is a form of balance which has been placed to establish the rule of Man. For you see, Man has truly never been given dominion over anything more than our own thoughts, and depending on what those thoughts are, they have been labeled by forces outside of that which we reside,” he said pointing at the angels.
“Have faith in your own kind. For the angels package their peace with picks and bonfires,” the younger looking Dante said before stepping off the cliff into the clouds of smoke below them.
Dante stared silently gripping his heart as he hadn’t felt fear to that extent in centuries. Dante's revelation was not one for mankind, rather one of self; and that frightened him more than anything that walked.
He felt something pull on the back of him and he found himself falling into another sleep. He could hear the banging of wood and stone above him and quickly jumped to his feet. The taste of blood was on his tongue and he inserted two fingers and saw that it was true. Dante walked to the bathroom to rinse out his mouth looking for any bruises; wondering where the blood came from.
As he stared into the mirror he began to see himself age, as he really was. His hands traveled the hills and valleys made of wrinkles on his face as the breath of death fell upon the nape of hi
s neck. Dante suddenly shook his head as the banging on top of the tower snapped him out of it. He shuffled to the top of the tower to see Calliope attempting to light the beacon, a symbol that the Order of Dactyls acknowledges the commitment to the Council's will.
“Sorry sir. I can’t get it to light. I think the wood is wet,” Calliope said when Dante pointed the end of his staff to the wood and it lit.
“How do you do that sir? The magic. I thought Dactyls were only permitted to the magic of seeing. Truly you know more than divination,” Calliope asked curiously.
“There are many strange things in this world young maiden, things I will show you in time. I am expecting a visitor, but I shall be present for breakfast,” he said placing his hand on her shoulder. Calliope was confused as the beacons were only lit at the call of the Council of Nine, which the Order of Magia Chaotica initiated.
She didn’t pursue any answers, rather just left Dante who was looking out of the tower windows which made up the eye portion of the Owl. Dante's gazed settled in the direction of the gold dome of Salamanca. It glistened in the moonlight as a beacon of balance. Magia... he thought to himself out loud and turned to get his coat, but was startled to see a man standing in the door way.
“Callan? What brings you here?” Dante asked looking confused. Callan stood still watching intensely as though he were going to attack him. Dante grabbed his staff as Callan disappeared before him. Rufus had arrived and walked just yards away from the Owl Tower. His senses went into overdrive as he felt the presence of something dark.
The air smelled of smoke, like a pyre of rotting trees and spoiled food. Rufus's eye felt a stare burning into his back and he turned to meet it.
“Callan,” he said looking somewhat shocked. “I have come to apologize for any humiliation you may have faced while in the company of my Knights. Sometimes they disregard the pain of others in the midst of their fun. Will you join me and Dante?” Rufus said motioning towards the Tower.
Knights of Enmity: The Barons Have Fallen (Descending Fires Book 1) Page 34
