Iona Portal (The Synaxis Chronicles)

by Robert David MacNeil

  IONA PORTAL

  BOOK ONE OF THE SYNAXIS CHRONICLES

  By Robert David MacNeil

  INTERACTIVE TABLE OF CONTENTS

  PART ONE: ENCOUNTERS

  Chapter One: Lysandra

  Chapter Two: Kilauea

  Chapter Three: Volcano House

  Chapter Four: Mystery

  PART TWO: PILGRIMAGE

  Chapter Five: Patrick

  Chapter Six: Across Mull

  Chapter Seven: Sylvia’s Story

  Chapter Eight: The Island of Iona

  Chapter Nine: Aftermath

  PART THREE: SYNAXIS

  Chapter Ten: Piper and Holmes

  Chapter Eleven: Revelations

  Chapter Twelve: More Revelations

  Chapter Thirteen: The Shades

  Chapter Fourteen: Synaxis Begins

  Chapter Fifteen: Before the Storm

  Chapter Sixteen: Erin’s Story

  Chapter Seventeen: Mendrion

  Chapter Eighteen: Angel Dance

  PART FOUR: PORTAL

  Chapter Nineteen: Haggis

  Chapter Twenty: The Search

  Chapter Twenty-one: Kidnapped

  Chapter Twenty-two: Ben

  Chapter Twenty-three: Lys’s Story

  Chapter Twenty-four: The Fionnphort Gun Club

  Chapter Twenty-five: Releasing the Angels

  Chapter Twenty-six: A New Beginning

  EPILOGUE

  "There is no question that there is an unseen world. The problem is,

  how far is it from Midtown and how late is it open?"

  – Woody Allen (Without Feathers, p. 11.)

  “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

  – William Shakespeare ("Hamlet", Act 1 scene 5)

  With a few minor exceptions, all geographical descriptions in this book are accurate, including McCaig’s Folly, which really is perched on the cliff above Oban.

  Aidan’s Pub is loosely patterned after Aulay’s Bar, which is located on Airds Crescent in the city of Oban.

  The Torosay Inn is loosely pattered after the Criagnure Inn on the Isle of Mull. (The Craignure Inn was also featured in Robert Louis Stevenson’s novel, Kidnapped. Stevenson called it the Torosay Inn, and I have followed his example.)

  The only major departure from geographical accuracy in this book is the description of Lady’s Rock, which in modern times is topped with a light tower to protect shipping in the Sound of Mull.

  All historical references in this book are accurate.

  All present-day characters in this book are fictional, and are not intended to represent any persons, living or dead.

  The SYNAXIS, of course, is real.

  Visit me on the web at http://ionaportal.com/

  Email me at RobertDavidMacNeil@Gmail.com

  Or follow me on Twitter at @RDavidMacNeil

  © 2011, Robert David MacNeil

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to Keith, whose gift of “second sight” prompted the writing of this book.

  And to Susan, Pam, and Margie for reading and re-reading the manuscript, and making many helpful suggestions and corrections. (I’m privileged to be in Synaxis with all of you!)

  And most of all, this book is dedicated to my amazing wife Linda, for her patience and continual encouragement, and for believing this book should be written.

  PART ONE: ENCOUNTERS

  Chapter One: Lysandra

  FLAGSTAFF MOUNTAIN ROAD — WEST OF BOULDER, COLORADO – 1:35 AM

  The speeding BMW’s blue xenon headlights burned fiercely in Lysandra Johnston’s rearview mirror. “They’re coming after us again…” she said, trying in vain to control the tremor in her voice, “…faster this time!”

  Clutching the wheel tightly, she slammed the accelerator and let a wave of inertia drive her deep into the seatback. The soft, leather-trimmed upholstery enfolded her body, cocooning her in a protective embrace; but the increased speed brought no illusion of safety—her Corolla could not outrun the BMW. Her pursuers’ low-slung coupe was effortlessly carving a path through the dark, twisting curves, relentlessly devouring the pavement as it approached.

  With one eye on the mirror, Lys careened through a double hairpin turn, dropping down a low hill to an extended straightaway. Tall Ponderosa Pines flashed past as she accelerated hard, mashing the pedal to the floor.

  Coming out of the straightaway, she squealed through a tight S-curve, barely keeping four wheels on the road. Her fading hope rekindled as the pursuing lights winked out of sight behind a massive granite outcrop. But that hope was instantly crushed when the BMW re-appeared around the bend moments later, closer than before. The sudden burst of acceleration had temporarily increased her lead, but the men were now playing catch-up and overtaking her rapidly.

  A flood of cold, unreasoning fear crept up her spine. “They’re almost on top of us,” she said, glancing nervously at her companion. “This has gone on way too long!”

  Gritting her teeth in frustration, Lys looked for a place of refuge, searching the road ahead as it wound through a dense forest of Douglas fir… a convenience store… a bar…some roadside café… any place with lights and people! She saw nothing but cold, desolate pavement fading into darkness.

  With no escape in sight, she fixed her gaze on her pursuers as they inexorably closed the gap.

  The mysterious black BMW had come out of the gloom twenty minutes earlier and with no provocation engaged Lys in a harrowing game of cat-and-mouse—hurtling past her on the lonely mountain roads, then slowing, almost to a stop, to force her to pass. She’d tried to tell herself the men were just toying with her, but the looks on their faces made her skin crawl.

  Her stalkers were almost on her rear bumper and still accelerating; the throaty growl of the BMW’s engine reverberated in her ears. She gripped the wheel firmly, bracing for an impact, but in the last instant the men swerved to the left and roared past.

  As they sped by, Lys saw a now-familiar face pressed hard against the BMW’s passenger-seat window. By the pale light of the near full moon, the man’s face appeared wraithlike, almost skeletal, with coal-black hair falling in oily tangles down his back. His blood-dark eyes were locked on Lys, staring at her hungrily.

  Lysandra Leigh Johnston was no stranger to the longing gaze of men. At twenty-six, with an easy smile, carefully-toned body, and light, ash-blonde hair tumbling loosely across her shoulders, Lys had often held the starring role in a man’s romantic fantasy. But she sensed nothing amorous, or even sexual, in this man’s leer. What she saw in his ashen face was a terrifying look of bone-chilling brutality.

  She shuddered involuntarily at the sight of him—a tremor of revulsion snaking through her core. She struggled in vain to delete his lurid image from her memory. The cruelty in his eyes gave her little doubt of the sadistic fury playing out in his imagination. He’s abusing me… Lys knew… raping me in his mind.

  She let out a sigh of relief as the BMW sped down the road to finally disappear around the curve ahead. She eased up on the gas and felt her body relax. Maybe it’s over… she looked hopefully into the darkness … maybe they’ll leave me alone now. She wiped a bead of cold perspiration from her forehead.

  Rounding the bend, her heart sank as a familiar set of brake lights flared brightly on the road ahead. If I can just get by them one more time… she thought... in ten more minutes we’ll be back home in Boulder.

  Her fingers shifted nervously on the wheel.

  The BMW was still two hundred yards away, but the driver was pumping his brakes, rapidly decelerating.

  Lys envisioned the cadaverous ma
n in the passenger seat waiting for her—obscene eyes following her approach. She lifted her foot from the accelerator. Her breath caught in her throat and an icy knot formed in her belly.

  Get a grip, Lys! She scolded, struggling to shake off the disquiet.

  She drew a deep breath, held it several seconds, then blew it out slowly, consciously attempting to rein-in her emotions. We’ll get through this... she assured herself, inhaling deeply again … Just stay focused ... Take it one step at a time.

  As the receptionist for the biggest law firm in the Colorado Front Range, Lys was well-accustomed to handling stress. At the office she’d built a reputation on her ability to thrive under pressure—always maintaining control in any crisis. Right now, though, she was far from her comfort zone.

  “I know it’s a cliché, Kareina, but I’ve got a really bad feeling about this,” she said, almost in a whisper, as the BMW loomed closer.

  “Don’t worry about it… ” her companion smiled condescendingly, brushing a long strand of jet-black hair from her eyes. “They’re just guys. They saw a pretty blonde driving and are having a little fun with you. You’re much too suspicious.”

  Tall and gangly with a plain face and pallid, almost sickly complexion, Kareina Procel had dropped by Lys’s desk three weeks earlier, looking like a lost puppy. As the two spent their afternoon break talking, Kareina said she’d just moved to Boulder from a small town in New Mexico, hadn’t yet made any friends, and felt totally lost in the big city.

  Compassionate by nature, Lys was an easy touch for Kareina’s hard-luck story. She’d gone to lunch with Kareina several times and spent one Saturday afternoon showing her the sights of Boulder. Even before the BMW showed up, however, Lys regretted going to tonight’s party with her. Something about Kareina just didn’t seem right.

  “I’m suspicious? Yeah, right!” Lys jabbed. “Coming from such a good judge of character… You thought Carrington was a great guy!”

  “Well, how was I to know he only had one thing on his mind?”

  “Listen Kareina, I’m the blonde. You’re supposed to have a brain in your head. We never should have gone to that party in the first place.”

  The BMW was now stopped dead in the lane ahead. Lys slowed cautiously as she approached, then pulled out to pass, flooring the accelerator.

  As the Corolla struggled to gain speed, she caught another glimpse of the BMW’s driver. He looked young, maybe still in his teens. Probably took his dad’s car without permission. But his expression showed no hint of playfulness. His face was as gaunt and pale as his companion’s and was fixed on Lys with the cold determination of a hunter stalking prey.

  Despite the blonde jokes, Lys was no fool. She knew this was not a situation to treat lightly.

  A glance in the mirror showed the BMW accelerating again, its 400 horsepower turbocharged V-8 roaring loudly as it bore down on the defenseless Corolla.

  This time the men made no attempt to pass. Instead, the BMW pulled within feet of her bumper and matched her speed.

  Her speedometer was edging 60, but Lys knew she couldn’t keep it up. She was approaching a set of treacherous hairpin turns where the road zigzagged down the mountain to Boulder.

  Entering the first switchback, she slid her foot onto the brake, taking the turn much faster than she should have. Her tires squealed, but the BMW was still riding her tail.

  Near the midpoint of the curve, Lys gasped aloud as a breathtaking panorama appeared beyond the guardrail. Like a billion sparkling gemstones flung across a field of black velvet, the lights of Boulder exploded into view. Almost home! If I can just stay ahead of them through the switchbacks.

  Exiting the hairpin, Lys straddled the center line, trying to keep the BMW from passing. The men responded by blasting their horn and flashing their high beams repeatedly—nearly blinding her.

  She punched her accelerator but the next switchback was already in sight. Warning signs flashed past. The posted speed limit for the curve was 35. She tried to take it at 50, tires screaming in protest. Too fast! Hammering the brake, she froze as the Corolla broke into a skid, almost slamming the guardrail before she regained control.

  Lys could feel her heart pounding. Adrenaline was flooding her bloodstream. Her breathing deepened, her palms went cold, and her hands were beginning to tremble. She gripped the wheel with whitened knuckles, struggling to control her rising panic. As the road ahead straightened, she jammed the accelerator to the floor.

  This has been a night from hell from the start! It started with the god-awful party at Carrington’s. Now this! Lys was beginning to wonder if she’d survive the evening.

  She shot a glance at Kareina, but her companion seemed oblivious to the danger. Kareina was watching her intently with an amused smile. She actually seemed to be enjoying Lys’s distress. No wonder she doesn’t have friends… Lys thought. She’s STRANGE!

  But Lys had no time to think about Kariena. The BMW had coasted through the last curve, but now charged ahead, engine thundering.

  Approaching the next switchback, the BMW pulled up beside her. The mountain here loomed close on the left with a sheer drop-off to the right.

  Another cluster of warning signs swept past. The maximum speed limit for the turn was 30 but the men were pacing her—she didn’t dare let them pull in front. She started into the curve at 50, barely keeping control.

  Lys chanced another look at the BMW. The man in the passenger seat was leering at her, not three feet away, and the look on his face made her blood run cold. Something dark, malevolent, and not quite human was staring back at her. Their eyes met for an instant, and his lips went taut, baring crooked teeth in a vicious grin… the gape of a wolf about to rip the flesh of its cornered prey.

  And in a moment of chilling recognition, Lys finally saw what the men were after. With gut-wrenching certainty, her mind embraced the terrible truth she’d been struggling for the last thirty minutes to reject. For Lysandra Johnston now knew, beyond all doubt, that the men in the black BMW were planning to kill her.

  Her gaze fixed resolutely on the rapidly-tightening curve ahead. A thrill killing… the thought came numbly to her mind … and I’m to be the thrill… Resisting a wave of nausea, her mind raced, striving frantically to form a plan of escape. But it was not to be.

  At the tightest part of the curve, as her tires shrieked, struggling to maintain their hold on the road; the men swerved abruptly to the right. With a resounding concussion and the sound of shattering glass, the BMW slammed the Corolla hard, lifting its front end from the pavement and driving it into the guardrail. There was an agonizing scream of ripping steel, a crash as the guardrail gave way, and a long moment of silence as the Corolla sailed through the air.

  The welcoming lights of Boulder spread wide before her. Lys seemed to float for a moment in mid-air. Then, by the glare of her one remaining headlight, she saw the ground rising to meet her… Everything was happening in slow motion, but she was frozen to her seat and could not move.

  Clenching the wheel in helpless terror, Lys glanced at Kareina one last time. But Kareina was gone.

  Chapter Two: Kilauea

  HALEMA’UMA’U CRATER, MOUNT KILAUEA, HAWAII

  Pele angled the tip of one dark, leathery wing and banked to the left. Gaining altitude rapidly, she opened her mouth in an exultant roar as a blast of frigid, early-morning wind buffeted her face. Eyes like glowing pools of lava scanned the horizon. From this height she could see the whole island, from ancient Kohala on the north to windswept Ka Lae at the south. She detected no sign of her enemies. Perfect!

  Long waves of ebony hair flowed behind her as she descended toward Kilauea. Her prey was now fast approaching. She watched as the silver Porsche 911 Carrera slowed to make its turn into Hawaii’s Volcano National Park.

  All had been prepared. For two weeks, Pele had planted the sequence firmly in the victim’s mind. There would still be a need for subtle mental influence in the last moments, but that would be easily accomplished. This victi
m wanted to be hers.

  She bared her teeth in anticipation. Pele was still revered as a goddess on Hawaii’s Big Island, but it had been a long time since she’d savored the taste of human sacrifice. Too long.

  But her ancient enemies, the Irin, were in decline and would soon be vanquished. Even now, few remained who were strong enough to oppose her, and they were spread thin, distracted by pressing issues in distant places. The time was coming when she would again be free to do as she pleased on her own island. Then all of her ancient pleasures would be restored. Perhaps it had begun even now.

  Pele had just begun her long glide toward the glowing pit of Halema’uma’u crater when she sensed something new. No! A presence had come … she felt it. It was a presence she’d not encountered for many years. Her oldest adversary had returned. She rumbled quietly under her breath, Araton! …then opened her mouth in a shriek of anger and frustration.

  Erin let the door of the Porsche 911 Carrera swing softly shut behind her, waiting to hear the reassuring thunk of the engaging latch. She glanced quickly around in the pre-dawn mist to make sure no one was watching, then pulled her shawl tightly around her body against the early morning chill. Even in Hawaii it gets cold at 3700 feet.

  Her eyes searched the darkness and found the path leading to the crater overlook, yet she hesitated, a look of confusion and uncertainty on her face. She glanced around again, eyes darting nervously like a frightened animal’s. Could she really go through with this?

  Most who knew Erin Vanderberg assumed she was in her mid-thirties, though in actuality, she was nearly a decade older. Taller than average, Erin stood five-eleven in bare feet, but she moved with the assurance and poise of a runway model. Her perfectly formed face was framed by rich cascades of silken, chestnut-brown hair. Always impeccably dressed, she exuded an aura of beauty that women envied, and caused men to take a long and lingering second look.