by J. P. Sloan
The goons in suits ushered us deeper into the central chamber, the glistening and polished surfaces of marble and granite reflecting as much light as the sound of our footsteps. Before we reached the halfway point, they halted and motioned for the side. An elevator with brass doors lingered in the shadows behind a column. They opened as if waiting for us, and we filed in. Only one of our escorts joined us, pulling a key from his pocket and inserting it into the controls. The doors slid closed, and we began a descent beneath the monument.
Either the elevator was remarkably slow, or we had plunged well beneath the surface of Alexandria. When the doors finally opened, we were greeted by the Ipsissimus, himself.
“Welcome to the Sedem Regni,” he announced.
Before I could introduce anyone, or really respond at all, he turned and clacked down the hallway on his braces.
“I have prepared some ritual garments for you, myself.”
We followed Adrastos down a terrazzo-clad hallway and into a vestibule. An array of white robes with gold-threaded embroidery hung on hooks along one wall. I could feel the charms on them from across the room.
“What are they carrying?” I asked.
“Obfuscation charms, primarily. There will be upward of a hundred members gathering here tomorrow morning. A sea of faces, but one can’t be too careful.”
Annarose loomed behind me, her energy hot and prickly.
I turned to her and gave her a reassuring nod.
Clement stepped forward, and with a graceful gesture bowed to Adrastos.
“Ipsissimus, allow me to introduce myself. My name is―”
“Jean Clement, lately of New York City, originally of Lyons, France. A purveyor of illicit items restricted for use and sale by this organization.” Adrastos peered over his glasses. “There’s no one inside this building I haven’t studied.”
Clement stiffened, and stepped back to regain his dignity.
I said, “And yet, the L’Enfantines have prospered underneath your nose.”
Adrastos swished his mouth left, then right, and smiled. “True enough. In a way, I prefer the company of those who despise me.” He navigated around me, standing fully before Annarose. “I trust their motivations above those of my own allies. Even if they are murderous.”
Annarose didn’t respond.
“I know you intend my destruction, Miss Rodolfi. And I do not begrudge you this desire. But you should know, I’ll never allow it to happen.”
“We shall see,” she stated.
“I suppose we shall.” Adrastos moved on to Malosi, gave him a once-over, then nodded in satisfaction. “You have a natural ability with wardings, Mister Malosi. Your loyalties to Clement notwithstanding, you could prove to be a useful member of our organization.”
Malosi stood rigid, but the corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly.
Finally, Adrastos stepped up to Edgar. His face eased as he looked Edgar over, and he hung his right brace onto his left arm and extended his hand.
Edgar looked over to me for direction.
I simply shrugged.
Edgar shook Adrastos’s hand.
“I knew your father, Mister Swain,” Adrastos said. “I was proud to count him among my friends.”
Edgar’s eyes went wide. “Huh?”
“He wouldn’t have spoken of me. There was a time during the Reagan administration when our organization had developed something of a combative relationship with the White House. It was a unique moment in time, and under the Ipsissimus at the time, I found myself in the company of several independents.”
“Right on,” Edgar replied.
Adrastos continued his progress for the robes. “These should prevent anyone not specifically attempting to identify you from doing so. I’ll ask that you remain in the wings as the congregants arrive. I can’t foresee what the L’Enfantines intend to do tomorrow. I expect there will be violence.”
“We’re ready,” I replied, with a pat on my backpack.
Adrastos squinted over his glasses. “I can see that. Take care with your devilish little workings, Lake. We’ve given you latitudes, but I’d hate to see any collateral damage in my Sedem.”
“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that.”
He nodded, then clacked off through a door hidden in the paneling on the far end of the vestibule. I suspected there were countless such doors in this building.
Edgar walked up and took one of the robes off the hook. “Where are the ‘wings,’ do you think?”
“I guess we’ll know when we see it,” I answered.
Edgar slipped the robe on, wrapping it around his body, searching the front until he found the eye hooks. When he had fastened it, he held out his arms, the gold embroidery glistening in the light from fixtures tucked in coves near the ceiling.
“How do I look? Presidium-worthy?”
I looked into his face. It was… Edgar’s face.
Malosi grunted, “Some glammer.”
Clement shook his head. “We know who he is, and we know what we’re looking for. It may be the best charm he could craft with the power base so eroded.”
“If that’s the case,” I said, “then we’re going to have to do the heavy lifting, I think.”
I shuffled the bag off my shoulders and inspected the contents as the others grabbed their robes. The bag wasn’t heavy, but it was filled with all kinds of Hell. Tiny leathery balls with dark script on their surface etched in my own blood. Sharp needles protruded from the seams of the sachets, each containing the finger bone of an unearthed corpse. I wasn’t sure where Edgar had sourced these materials, but it was someone he wasn’t a fan of.
As will all curses, the real power of these vicious little bastards came from a combination of my own hatred, and the invocation of an ancient, Cosmic evil. Its name was inscribed in Persian along the insides of the needle balls. I lifted one of the balls into the light, inspecting my handiwork.
Annarose knelt down beside me. “A lot of effort for a tiny curse.”
“It’s contained. Focused. Targeted.”
“Are you saying my magic is untidy?”
I smirked at Annarose. “You could say that.”
She leaned closer and whispered, “How are we going to touch Adrastos? He knows we intend him harm.”
“Knowing a thing and stopping a thing are very different. He’s weak. The whole Presidium is weak. We’ll find a way. When the shit hits the hermetic fan, we’ll find our moment.”
Clement watched us from across the room, his eyes narrow.
Annarose offered a hand and helped me to my feet, as Edgar brought me my robe.
“Time to get official,” he quipped.
I dropped the curse ball into my bag and zipped it up, hanging it backward across my chest. Malosi secured the latches across my back, and I stood with my papoose from Hell.
I took the robe and slid my arms into the sleeves. It fell loose over the bag as I had hoped it would. As I hooked the eyelets over the bag, I tested Adrastos’s charms. I couldn’t see the glammer on my compatriots’ faces, but I could certainly feel the charm as it laced a cocoon around me. I reached out to palpate the energy in the room, but found it muffled, like I was underwater.
“This will make it more difficult to sense,” I muttered.
Malosi nodded. “You noticed that, too?”
“We’ll just have to use our eyes and ears.”
I led the way back into the terrazzo hall, and continued away from the elevator. The side wall opened into a trefoil Gothic arch. Light spilled from the arch as if reflected off water. I took a breath, then stepped through the arch.
What greeted my eyes knocked the breath back out of my chest.
It wasn’t water that was reflecting the candlelight. It was gold.
Everywhere, gold.
A cavernous, hexagonal space opened up above us, lined with the trefoil arches along the perimeter, gilded masonry lining the walls as they gathered into graceful seams along the ceiling. Enormous chandeliers flick
ered with candlelight, washing up and around the ceiling, sending the entire room into a dizzying radiance.
Varying alloys of gold punctuated the masonry, creating wide lines along the walls and ceiling, connecting in the vertices of an enormous glyph.
I sucked in a breath and reached out for anything or anyone to help hold me up. Lacking that, I simply marveled at the ceiling.
“Am I seeing this?” I whispered.
“The Zauberstein Key,” Clement answered.
I craned my neck high, mouth agape. “I’m guessing it’s not just a myth, then?”
Annarose shook her head. “What is this key?”
I explained, “One of the alchemical keys of creation. Said to create substance from light. Matter from energy, in a nutshell. Real next-level quantum physics magic.”
Malosi grumbled, “Sounds like a lot of horseshit to me.”
“I’m inclined to agree with you,” I answered. “But the Presidium certainly seems to think it was worth investing a lot of gold into.” I looked into the eyes of those gathered around me. “Watch your energy, folks. I don’t know what this key actually does. Could amplify, could transmute. Things may get… weird.”
Annarose folded the side of her mouth into an unimpressed smirk and moved on.
We explored the space. An enormous series of inlaid granite and marble stones outlined a hexagram inscribed and circumscribed, providing what I concluded was the ritual space for the Presidium. At the center, an enormous gilded pyramid rose to point to one of the cardinal directions, with the Eye of Providence staring up to the center of the vaulted ceiling. It was highly stylized, far more elegant than the dollar bill. Indeed, there was an Egyptian quality to it. A Sun God Ra effect, poised atop a pyramid, centered in the classic hexagram of the Star of David. The Qabalistic elements laced together in a tremendous “fuck you” to the Nombre D’or. I imagined for the L’Enfantines, circling in this space every month would stoke a slow burn for revolution.
I stepped onto the ritual circle, reading some of the languages carved along the surface of the stones. Aramaic, Greek, Latin, Hieratic… a panoply of magical scripts and dead languages. I took in the entire space, light wavering around me, the vault of the ceiling soaring above my head. Reality felt thin, here. I could understand the allure of such a powerful space. And I figured, as smart as Adrastos was, having me here was another opportunity to lure me into his fold.
He wasn’t malicious, per se. Indeed, he believed in his mission, perhaps to a fault. Certainly to the exclusion of empathy. But I couldn’t feel antipathy against him.
But that really didn’t matter. I’d made a deal with Annarose. Her assistance in taking out Zeno and Brown, in exchange for my assistance in taking out Adrastos. It was my payment to Annarose, an unholy oath. I couldn’t violate it, especially now that she had already made good on Zeno’s life.
And she was correct… Adrastos saw right through us both. He had to have divined somehow that we intended to take him out before the end of this confrontation. So, too, had Clement by the look he had given the two of us in the vestibule.
That was just one more variable, and admittedly a minor one in comparison with taking out the L’Enfantines.
I realized as I pulled myself out of the reverie in that ritual space that I hadn’t planned to survive this. I had no sense of making good on my deal with Annarose. Some instinct deep inside me recognized that the events of the next morning would render that agreement void. Which meant one or both of us would be dead.
I smirked as I thought of Felix Parrish. He’d be sorely disappointed if I died now. With my soul in someone else’s possession, my death would dissociate my body from that soul. It would become the property of whoever had their hands on it. I could only hope they were, to some degree, less wicked than Parrish.
A series of cushioned benches lined intermittent spaces between the trefoil arches, creating a kind of gallery around the space.
Malosi pointed them out, and said, “I’m thinking those are the wings.”
“All the Presidium’s a stage,” I said. “And we poor bastards are merely players.”
Clement suggested, “Perhaps we should separate, and not present a single group to arouse suspicion?”
“Sounds good to me,” I said.
Clement held out an arm to Annarose. “Miss Rodolfi?”
She looked to me, gave me a slight tip of her chin, then strode off arm-in-arm with Clement.
He’d separated us. Clever.
Malosi turned without saying a word and crossed the space to sit alone in a separate gallery.
Which left Edgar and myself. We took the closest alcove, sitting near the back.
Edgar reached down and felt the red velvet cushion. “Nice.”
“So, what do you think? The hermetic life for you?”
“I gotta admit, man. This is a hell of a Lodge!”
“Eh, not bad. Bet it’s a bitch to heat in the winter.”
Edgar smiled.
“You got everything set with Wren?”
“Hmm?”
“Your affairs.”
He turned to me. “What, you mean like my will and stuff?”
“Edgar, you know we might not survive this.” I shifted to face him fully. “You know that, right?”
He waved me off. “Eh. We’ll be okay.”
“How the hell can you be so relaxed? I’m only asking because this whole thing was my problem, and I’m freaking out.”
“Do you believe in God?” he asked.
My face pinched. “What?”
“God. You know, big combat boot in the sky?”
“You’re not seriously asking me that question.”
“Why not?” he pushed. “I’m asking you if you believe in God. It can’t be a hard question to answer.”
“Well, I mean, no. Not like you mean.”
“How do you know what I mean? What’s God mean to you?”
I shook my head. “A missing variable in the Cosmic Equation. I mean, I believe in the Dark Choir. I’ve seen evidence. But there’s no evidence that the equal, balancing force for the Dark Choir actually exists. It’s like, if there is a force of good out there, then it’s really phoning this in.”
Edgar nodded, and looked back at the center of the Sedem.
“What about you?” I asked.
“Nah. Pretty much an atheist.”
I chuckled. “You fucker. You brought it up, and you didn’t have a point to it?”
“What?”
“You’re supposed to give me the pep talk, here. Tell me there’s some reason you believe there’s a God. Tell me it’s in control of things, and that I’m not a completely lost cause.”
He swiveled his head, and reached up to rub his chin.
“Are you dead yet?”
“Clearly not.”
“Well, there you go.”
“Thanks.”
He snickered. “Hey, for you, that’s saying a lot.”
I nodded.
After a space of silence, I said, “I’m worried about Elle.”
He replied, “Me, too.”
“This empathic divination gift coming out of nowhere? Looks like she can’t control it.”
“Wren’s talking to some people online, getting a plan.”
“Think it came from what happened last year? Maybe she picked up something from the servitor? Or perhaps it left some kind of wound in her own soul, and this new sensing ability is some kind of psychic scar tissue?”
Edgar made a dubious sneer. “Maybe.”
“If we make it out of this alive, I’ll look into it.”
We sat together in silence. An odd calm fell over me as I sat next to Edgar. I felt as if we would be fine. And even if we wouldn’t, we had said our last words.
ime passed in a strange fashion inside the Sedem. What felt like minutes could have been hours, and vice versa. I was certain it was a combination of nerves, the complete lack of windows, and the energy pouring up from the geomantic n
ode beneath us. After a while, footsteps echoed from the side passage, and the first of the congregants arrived. They wore the same robes as we, and moved directly for the gallery Malosi had occupied. These new arrivals weren’t impressed by the vaulted space of gold. It was just another day for them.
More arrived, and then more, filing in by ones and twos. After another hour, a low murmur began to echo through the space as hushed conversations folded onto one another. I stood up to stretch my legs, and Edgar sucked in a breath, snapping awake from a quiet nap.
“What’s up?” he mumbled.
“Just getting numb,” I answered.
I looked across the way to find Clement had moved away from Annarose and had engaged someone in conversation. My stomach knotted for a moment. We weren’t supposed to engage. It could jeopardize the glammer. Still, if anyone among our party were to chat up casual Presidium members, it might as well have been Clement.
I checked on Malosi. He remained in his seat, stiff and stony. I was going to have to find a way to break through to him again, should we walk out of here.
Edgar whispered, “Got a lot of people now.”
“Less than a quarter of what they’re expecting,” I replied.
A group of four newcomers arrived, and moved for our gallery. I suddenly worried that these were like season ticket seats, and wondered what would happen if we ran into the people who usually sat here.
The white-robed congregants stepped up into our gallery. Two of them looked up at Edgar and me briefly, nodded, then took seats. I didn’t recognize them. More to the point, they didn’t recognize us. I had no way of telling whether Adrastos’s glammer was functioning correctly, but for the moment, I was satisfied.
As more and more arrivals increased the volume of the echoing murmurs, Edgar and I straightened in our benches and kept our eyes open. Brown would be arriving at some point. I felt my odds of survival hinged on spotting him early and keeping him in my sight. But the robes made everyone appear homogenous, as if we were all affected by some kind of glammer. It was the basic charm of crowds.
A bell sounded at a point, and a new flood of congregants arrived. These wore red robes with the same gold embroidery. The gold stitching stood out in sharper contrast against the crimson, and I identified the Eye of Providence in the design. The red-robed congregants did not approach the galleries. Instead, they took their position along the outside ring of the floor’s hexagram. Conversations hushed as they filed in one-by-one, and I realized the conclave was about to start.
