Thaumatology 06 - Hammer of Witches

by Teasdale, Niall

  As the last of the parishioners left, Ceri and Lily started to rise. The vicar poked his head in through the door. ‘Would you prefer to talk inside?’ he asked. ‘I’m assuming you want to talk to me. I haven’t seen you here before.’

  ‘Observant too,’ Lily whispered.

  ‘Out of the cold would be good,’ Ceri said. ‘I need some advice on angels.’

  He blinked at her and closed the door. ‘Come through to the vestry. The heating works better and I can get out of these robes.’

  They started after him, down the aisle, and Ceri grinned at Lily. ‘Down, pet,’ she murmured. Lily pouted at her, but she did look a bit disappointed when it was just the outer vestments which came off a minute or two later.

  ‘You wanted advice on angels?’ the vicar asked, looking curious.

  ‘Yes,’ Ceri said. ‘Thanks for making the time, Vicar.’

  ‘Philip,’ he replied. ‘Take a seat.’ He sat down behind a small desk tucked into a corner of the vestry.

  Ceri and Lily pulled up chairs of their own. ‘Okay,’ Ceri said. ‘I’m Ceri Brent, this is Lily Carpenter. We live…’

  ‘Over on Saint Agnes Place,’ Philip said. ‘That big house off a horror film set.’ He grinned. ‘I like to know a little about the people who live in my parish, even if they don’t come to church. You’ve even been on TV.’

  Ceri smiled. ‘We’re investigating the recent Witch Hunter murders and, well, we find ourselves in need of advice on angels.’

  The Vicar frowned. ‘I see. I’ve seen the TV reports, obviously… Well, angels. There are a few lectures on them in seminary. I’ve never personally seen one.’

  ‘You have a small army of them on your roof,’ Lily said.

  He looked confused for a second. ‘Well, God is always at home in His house…’

  ‘No,’ Ceri said, ‘you really have a horde of angels up on your roof. It seems like they turned up this morning, after midnight anyway. I think there are more of them, scattered through the city, and they weren’t there the night before last. They just sit up there and watch.’

  Philip’s eyes raised upward as if he could penetrate the stone and see something. Ceri could see his aura, the lines of energy which formed his two medians; he had no magical talent. ‘Uh, well, there was a type of angels known as Watchers, but they were supposedly cast out before the Flood. They were sent to observe and teach, but they started getting… personally involved. The resulting children were called Nephilim. Some suggest the Flood was sent to destroy them. It strikes me that the ones on the roof are either redeemed or not the same things.’

  ‘I’d tend to agree,’ Ceri said.

  ‘To be honest,’ Philip went on, ‘most of what we’re taught is at least partially conjecture. Or that was the impression I got. If you follow the biblical line there are nine choirs of angels, split into three spheres. Seraphim, Cherubim, Ophanim or Thrones, Dominions, Virtues, Powers, Principalities, Archangels, and Angels. Only the last three, the Third Sphere, have much to do with us. The rest either spend their time praising God, or they run Heaven, the celestial bodies, that kind of thing.’ He gave Ceri a grin. ‘I’d imagine you’re fairly sure that physics keeps the planets revolving.’

  Ceri grinned back. ‘Pretty sure. So there are definitely greater and lesser angels?’

  ‘It is referred to as a hierarchy.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘You’ve encountered something greater?’

  ‘The one trying to kill us was more powerful,’ Lily replied.

  ‘I’m sorry? An angel was trying to kill you?’

  ‘This would be confidential information,’ Ceri said. ‘It’s part of a current police investigation. The Witch Hunter had an angel helping him. A fairly big, powerful one. He attacked the house, our house.’

  ‘What happened?’ Philip’s eyes were wide now.

  ‘Ceri’s pretty good with spiritual entities,’ Lily said. ‘It went away.’

  ‘What do you know about the Church in Brazil?’ Ceri asked.

  The vicar’s head pulled back a little at the sudden change of subject. ‘It’s Catholic. I believe with the loss of Rome in the Shattering the Church in Brazil declared itself the home of Catholicism. Appointed a pope to sit in Rio and everything. They’re very hard line. Rather Old Testament in their views… This “Witch Hunter,” he was from Brazil?’

  ‘Probably,’ Ceri replied. ‘If you saw the news reports, the police rescued an unnamed second victim?’ Philip nodded. ‘She’s a Brazilian asylum seeker, a were-panther. The kidnapper said she was going to be sent home. There are a few other, fairly circumstantial, clues suggesting a connection with the Church over there.’

  ‘You think they sent some sort of… inquisitor over here to hunt witches?’ Philip asked, though it was half-statement and his eyes were downcast.

  ‘That’s how it looks,’ Ceri replied, ‘and now we have angels all over the city.’

  His hand reached out, apparently unconsciously, to stroke the cover of a thick, leather-bound bible on his desk. ‘There’s someone I could speak to,’ he said. ‘One of my old theology teachers. He knew a lot about thaumaturgy, angels, the whole spiritual side.’

  Ceri nodded. ‘The information has to remain as quiet as possible, but I’d be grateful. Any information you can get could be useful.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

  Ceri got to her feet, followed by Lily. ‘Thanks, Philip,’ Ceri said. ‘I have a feeling this could be important.’ She got a nod in reply and they left the young cleric to his thoughts.

  Lily stopped just outside the church gates and looked back at the roof. ‘Do you think they’re Fallen?’

  Looking up, Ceri scanned the fields of distorted energy watching them from the rooftop. It seemed as though glowing pinpricks of eyes were looking right at her, into her, through her. ‘No,’ she said. ‘No, I think they’re just different. I’m just guessing, of course.’

  ‘I hope you’re right,’ Lily said before starting back toward the park.

  December 5th

  ‘Know anything about angels, Faran?’ Ceri asked. She was in the shower and he was standing outside it looking as though he wanted to get in with her. He did, but he was successfully controlling himself. Ceri ignored the fact that her best friend and lover’s father was watching her shower because she knew he could not help himself. Besides, the attention felt nice.

  ‘There are a lot more of them about than usual?’ Faran replied.

  ‘Smartarse.’

  His laugh was rich and full of humour. ‘I much prefer your arse. Angels and demons have little to do with each other. While popular culture sees us as enemies, I’m sure you’re aware that if angels have enemies then it’s their fallen counterparts. And as far as I’m aware, they don’t think of Fallen as enemies, more as annoyances.’

  ‘So you largely ignore each other?’

  ‘Yes. Largely. There is the occasional conflict. One is recorded in that book your religious people put so much trust in.’

  ‘The Bible?’

  ‘That’s the one. There’s a section of rules and laws in there, I believe?’

  ‘Several. I assume you mean the various laws in the Pentateuch.’

  ‘Probably. It mentions Molech by name, prescribing his worship and sacrifices to him.’

  ‘Molech?’

  ‘A Lord. He managed to get himself worshipped by various tribes and nations in the Near East thousands of years ago. I don’t believe you’d be interested in the details, but it was not pleasant. Something of a rarity though. Relatively few demons have ever managed that method of power generation. It’s generally spirits that pull off the transition to godhood.’

  ‘So Molech became a god?’

  ‘Not… exactly. Gods are something else. Molech managed to siphon power from worshippers. For a time he was powerful enough to take Gorefguhadget’s crown, but the practices which gave him power were eventually wiped out and he lost control.’

  Ceri laughed. ‘Lily was telling us a f
airy tale yesterday. That started with something about Gorefguhadget.’

  ‘It’s much like your “once upon a time,”’ Faran said. ‘He was the greatest Demon Lord who ever lived. We’re talking about tens of thousands of years ago. I think he would be entirely consigned to legend if it were not that his crown still exists. It sits on his throne in the Castle of Bones atop Mount Khed. Were any demon ever strong enough to wear it again, all demons would bow down before him. That’s its power.’

  Ceri shut off the water and turned around, opening the shower screen. Faran tensed slightly and Ceri could feel the slight flicker of heat caress her skin as his aura danced over her. ‘Could you pass me a towel?’ she asked.

  Faran breathed in slowly, closing his eyes. Without looking he plucked a towel from the rail and handed it to her. ‘Ceridwyn Brent, you are a terrible temptation,’ he said softly.

  ‘You don’t have to watch me, Faran.’

  He sighed and started for the door. ‘Would that that were so,’ he said.

  ~~~

  ‘Reports of angels throughout Southern England today,’ the presenter said. The report was accompanied by a classic picture of a serene looking androgynous figure in a robe with broad wings and a halo. Ceri snorted derisively. ‘Practitioners of various forms have reported the invisible, immaterial entities perched on rooftops from Plymouth to Dover and as far north as Oxford.’

  ‘They’re pretty widespread,’ Lily commented.

  ‘Neither the Church of England nor any government agency has given a statement on the meaning of the sightings,’ the presenter went on. ‘Eye witnesses have stated that the figures appear to be simply observing. There have been no instances of interaction of any kind as far as anyone is aware.’

  ‘This is going to bring out more religious nuts,’ Ceri predicted.

  ‘In Canterbury,’ the presenter said as though she had heard Ceri, ‘people have gathered in front of the cathedral.’

  The scene cut to a woman with Canterbury Cathedral in the background, a vast, white stone, buttressed and spired bulk. ‘I believe the Holy Ones have come foreshadowing the new Messiah.’

  A cut to a man wearing a huge “The End of the World is Nigh” placard was followed by another cut to an older woman who told the camera, ‘I’ve come to ask forgiveness.’

  And then there was a vague-eyed man in his thirties who drawled, ‘Hey… I just came to be one with the universe, man.’

  ‘I hope they aren’t sitting in judgement,’ Lily said. ‘If they are we’re fried.’

  ‘If they were they’d be beating the door down and telling us off for debauchery,’ Ceri replied. ‘This is bad. And it’s just going to get worse if nothing happens.’

  ‘If nothing happens?’

  ‘Yeah. If they actually start doing something then people will know why they’re here. People can deal with things when they know what’s going on. If they just sit there, unseen, untouchable, they could be anywhere. People will get paranoid. They’ll start wondering if maybe these are Fallen. Maybe they really are here for the end of the world.’

  ‘Oh,’ Lily said, ‘I hadn’t thought of it like that.’

  ‘Most people haven’t yet. They will soon enough. The apocalypse conspiracy freaks will kick off saying it’s the Second Coming, or the time of the Rapture. Someone will suggest the timing on that Mayan calendar thing was a year out. The closer we get to the Solstice, the worst it’ll get.’

  Lily grimaced. ‘I’m starting to really hate the Winter Solstice.’

  ‘I’m not looking forward to the anniversary,’ Ceri replied. Lily leaned over and gave Ceri a hug; holding her close for a minute or two.

  ‘You know,’ the half-succubus said softly, ‘with all that’s happened this last year, I could almost believe we were heading for the end of the world.’

  ‘I doubt it,’ Ceri said. ‘Well, I don’t think so anyway.’

  ‘If it is,’ Lily said, ‘at least I found you first.’

  Ceri smiled and kissed Lily’s forehead, and the half-succubus snuggled herself closer, content. ‘That was really sappy,’ Ceri commented.

  ‘I know,’ Lily replied, still quite content. ‘I’m allowed to be sappy if I want. The world’s going to end.’

  Battersea, December 7th

  There was an angel on the roof of the boathouse. A little searching found two more on the bandstand. For some reason the little restaurant had been skipped. Maybe they did not like the coffee. Maybe they were not into commercialism. Whatever, they seemed to be largely ignoring the werewolves. They watched the dog walkers and the couples taking walks in the cold night air, and Ceri.

  They watch Man kind, Ceri growled.

  Michael followed her gaze toward the roof of the boathouse. He saw nothing there. He could smell nothing, sense nothing, but he trusted her that the angel was there. Not Wolf?

  Ceri shook her head. Just Man. Me. Other Man. They could see through her transformation, which was not entirely a surprise.

  Why? Michael barked, but Ceri just shrugged in reply. She had no clue what they were up to. The angels continued to watch. There had been no communication, no contact. Her contemplation of the angel was broken as Michael’s hand slapped her rump. Run!

  And they were running.

  December 8th

  They lay under the tree where Ceri hid her clothes in the afterglow of sex which, while fuelled by the soon-to-be-full moon, had been more intense and tender than normal while transformed. Ceri brushed her muzzle against Michael’s and gave a soft mewl. She did not have the vocabulary in Wolf to say what she wanted to say, and she did not want to change back just yet.

  Michael growled softly. Love Mate. He was not especially given to emotional statements and it came as something of a surprise.

  Love Mate, she growled back and they lay there in silence, wrapped in each other’s arms for several minutes until it was time for Ceri to go.

  Ceri stood and reached for her collar. There was the now familiar tingling sensation across her skin and then her vision was human. And standing at the edge of the small clearing was a humanoid figure in a white robe.

  Michael was on his feet in an instant, but the angel’s eyes stayed fixed on Ceri. ‘He comes.’ The creature’s lips did not move, but they both heard the voice.

  ‘Who?’ Ceri asked. ‘Falk?’

  ‘Gadriel,’ the angel said, and then it was gone as quickly as it had come. Ceri watched the spirit form dissolve out of existence and then lift into the air, vanishing through the trees.

  ‘Gadriel?’ Ceri repeated and glanced at Michael. He shrugged, which was about how she was feeling.

  Kennington

  Ceri opened the door and more or less instantly wished she had stopped to put some jeans on. When you opened the door to find the local vicar standing there, complete with dog collar, you wanted to be wearing more than a large shirt. When he was accompanied by a silver-haired old man who also seemed to be a priest, and all you were wearing was a shirt, you pretty much wished the ground would swallow you up. Ceri did not wish for any such thing, however; you never knew who might be listening.

  ‘Philip,’ she said, feeling her cheeks colouring, ‘I… wasn’t expecting you to come around…’

  The old man, bent over and leaning on a walking cane, answered her before Philip could respond. ‘Young lady, I was married for forty years and you’ve got nothing I haven’t seen. If Philip can’t handle some leg he’s in the wrong profession.’ He had an accent Ceri did not recognise; eastern European maybe.

  ‘Uh, Ceri, this is Father Fabian Król,’ Philip said. ‘He was my theology tutor and he knows more about angels than anyone I know.’

  Ceri looked down into an old face with intent, grey eyes under a heavy brow with wiry, white eyebrows. He had a good, solid Roman nose and strong bone structure, though his skin was drawn across it with age making him look vampiric. There was more of that eastern European heritage in his face. Ceri guessed at Polish; there had been plenty of Polish immi
grants left in Britain after the war and the Shattering. Król looked old enough to have been one of those.

  ‘Hello, Father,’ Ceri said. ‘I’ll still say sorry for my attire. Please come in.’ Ceri turned and walked into the hall before yelling up the stairs. ‘Lily! Put some clothes on, we have guests.’ She turned and grinned back toward the two priests. ‘She really isn’t wearing anything, and I really do have to tell her to get dressed.’

  ‘She’s the half-demon?’ Król asked. Ceri could detect neither distaste nor distrust in the question. In fact the old theologian seemed a little intrigued.

  ‘Half-succubus,’ Ceri said. ‘She stopped wearing clothes around the house not long after she moved in. She has a demon’s internal heating to keep her warm and absolutely no issue with showing off her body.’

  The old man’s lips twisted into a half smile. ‘Well, we do want to give young Philip a small chance of staying celibate until marriage.’ The accent was stronger now; definitely Russian or Polish.

  ‘Come on up to the lounge,’ Ceri said. ‘Would you like anything to drink?’

  With the old man settled into one of the big chairs, a cup of tea you could stand a spoon up in cradled in his hands, and Lily wearing a fairly subtle dress, for her, they could start talking. ‘Philip tells me that you’re investigating the angels who have turned up,’ Król said.

  Ceri nodded. ‘Especially after last night.’

  ‘What happened last night?’ Philip asked.

  ‘One of them spoke to me,’ Ceri said. Król’s eyes narrowed. ‘I usually spend Wednesday and Thursday evening with the Battersea werewolf pack. There were a couple of angels watching the humans walking in the park. They weren’t paying any attention to the wolves.’

  Król nodded. ‘Werewolves have a goddess they tend to worship, I believe. Angels generally pay little attention to those of a different faith, at least these days. In the past, there have obviously been more militant periods.’

  ‘Luperca,’ Ceri agreed. ‘She’s become more active over the last year. Anyway, just before I left, one of the angels materialised and told me someone called Gadriel was coming. I looked the name up on the Internet, but there seems to be relatively little about angels in general on there.’