by Kimbra Swain
“We need to practice more together. Learn each other’s movements and attacks. If you learn to beat me, or I learn to beat you, it’s an area of improvement for both of us. In the process, we will fight better together. Sometimes it’s not all magic, in fact, I’d settle for a good fist fight over flinging spells any time.”
“Impressive room,” I simply said.
Across from the first set of double doors was a second set. We walked through those into a long hallway. She pointed down to the right side. “There is a small kitchen down there, and a decent-sized bathroom with a walk-in shower identical to the one in your room. We will go through here. She pushed open another set of doors into a cage-lined room full of every handgun, rifle and shotgun I’ve ever seen. The bottoms of the cages held boxes of ammunition. I turned to my left, and there was a shooting range with two stalls.
“Looks like you have one of everything,” I commented.
“Not yet, but I’m working on it. Feel free to use any of them at any time. If there are ones you’ve never used or wanted to try, have at it. There is plenty of ammo. George keeps everything stocked up. He cleans all the weapons too. These are all practice pieces. We will probably never use them in the field. If you see something that is lacking, please let me know, and I’ll get it. You may know of newer tech that’s come out than I do.” We went back through the door into the hallway, and she started walking toward the area where she mentioned the kitchen and bathrooms were. We passed another door. I stopped at it, and she turned and looked at me.
“What’s in this one?”
“It’s a bedroom.”
“Oh, okay.”
“I put it down here, because there were times I just didn’t feel like going back upstairs. I admit that the last 25 years have been pretty dark for me. I do not use it now, and haven’t used it in a couple years. But if you are ever down here, and just want to crash, feel free.”
I nodded my head and she turned a corner into a dead end. “Hidden door?”
“No. There is no door. Give me a moment I have to alter the wards so they don’t fry you to a crispy kitty,” she said and faded out of view. That was different. I could still smell her. It was like she was there, but not. I felt a weird nausea from the portal, and she faded back into view. “Well, this is my vault. No one enters, but me. Consider everything in the vault to be deadly. It’s not just where I keep weapons and such, but also ancient tomes, grimoires, artifacts, imbued objects and the like. I set the wards to recognize you so, no deep-fried jaguar tonight. It’s going to be harder to teach you how to get into it if you need to, but eventually I’ll figure out a way to do it. Once I learn how you shift, perhaps I can alter the entrance to fit your magic more than mine. Also, I should warn you that you were about to break like seven of the TCAs magic rules.”
“They are all pricks anyway,” I said. She liked that answer, and smiled.
“I’m about to invade your personal space.”
“Well, okay, thanks for the warning.”
“The entrance is a time shift of 2 seconds in the past. The room behind the wall is in real time with us, so it’s just the doorway that is a time shift. So, we have to time travel to enter. I admit it's been a very long time since I’ve taken anyone inside with me. I built the thing, and besides Lincoln, George is the only one that has ever been in it. George doesn’t need to use the entrance. He can go where he pleases on this island. Don’t let him fool you next time as if he couldn’t find me himself.”
“If the room isn’t in a time warp, can’t just anyone walk through the wall? I can walk through walls in the spirit world.”
“They could but for two things, the vault is tied to this plane and cannot be reached through any other plane. Secondly, if you go in there the wards will instantly kill you. I do not take chances with the items that are in this room. I have collected things over the years. Some are very evil. Most evil books and objects I acquire, I destroy. However, if the book contains a knowledge that might help me fight someone with those particular talents, I keep it here. It cannot be breached. I’m going to need to have skin to skin contact with you. Your arms are fine, but roll up your sleeves.” I did as she instructed. She faced me, “Put your hands on my elbows, and I’ll put my hands on the top of your arms creating a bond between us. Our own little circle in a way. The other is, I trained the wards inside the room to a bit of your DNA. I got a stray hair from you as you sat at the desk. Eventually, I be able to put a spell on you. If any part of your DNA separates from your body for more than 5 seconds then it will burn to ash. That way we can keep all the witches from trying to grab some for a curse or spell. It sucks if you need a blood test, because the blood will burn once outside your body. You got any medical tests coming up?”
“None that I know of. Is this going to hurt?”
“No, big baby.”
“Well, how was I supposed to know? I’ve never time-traveled before.”
“Yes, you have, through the portal, but as far as anyone outside of those on this island, you never have or will.”
“Loud and clear.”
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. I felt the power building around us. She opened her eyes and looked at me. The sparkling gold edges appeared like I had seen before in the corridor. She spoke in a clear voice, “Tempus est via ad iter mihi placent: Aperi ianuam, cum ire ad otium.” I felt a small tremor, and the world smeared like a wet painting splashed with water. Colors and light shifts. Shadows moved. When the blur cleared, we stood in a room that was only 20 feet by 20 feet. I started to move, but I felt her hands clamp down on my arms. “Wait for it.” And the walls ignited in runes and glyphs of all different languages and cultures. I recognized several from my own country that were Mayan symbols. I watched as they slowly faded out, and she released the grip on my arms. “You can look around now,” she prompted and shook her arms a little because I was still holding onto her elbows.
“Oh, sorry. This place is amazing!” The floor was marble, but it had a compass rose laid into it with different colors of marble and lined with gold. The ceiling high above was dark blue, and along the full expanse of the room was an accurate depiction of the night sky with little illuminated stars forming constellations. I wasn't sure how she got all the little orbs to float, but the effect was impressive. The East and West walls were lined with rich cherry wood shelves. There were various artifacts and books. The bottom of the bookshelves contained small glass cases like the ones in jewelry stores. Inside I saw guns, knives, crystals, wooden sticks like wands and jewelry. The collection impressed me. It would impress anyone. The back wall had several human forms, like mannequins. There were four of them. They were all clearly female. One had a long green flowing dress with a gold vine-like piece of jewelry that started like a choker and wrapped down around the arm, then down one side of the dress, and then around the waist and fell down like two ends of a belt. As I got closer to it, it seemed as if the vine was alive. Living gold.
The second mannequin wore jeans, a rather plain tee shirt, sneakers and a ball cap. The third mannequin wore sleek black fatigue pants that were tight around the legs and tapered to the ankles. A pair of $300 boots, ahem. A black combat grade moisture wicking shirt. A black leather jacket that reached down to the mid-thigh and a sparse black utility belt. The last mannequin wore a sheer white gown with a wide brown leather belt. A sturdy leather loop held a long slightly curved scabbard encrusted with red jewels. It looked angelic with embossing on the belt and scabbard with religious symbols like the cross but with runes I’d never seen before. She stood behind me and watched me walk the room, never talking about the items. She just let me take it all in.
I walked along the cases and saw a set of pistols owned by Wild Bill Hickok, a katana owned by Mochizuki Chiyome, a quill pen that once belonged to Sir Walter Scott, a compass owned by Hernando de Soto, a pocket watch owned by Winston Churchill, and a crucifix owned by Mother Theresa.
“This place is a museum,” I muttered.<
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“Every object in this room has magical properties. Partially because they were dear objects to those who owned them, but also may have had a casting done on them for various reasons very much like your crucifix.”
I reached up and touched my cross beneath my shirt. “My necklace is magic?”
“It has a magical casting on it. I would have to take a closer look sometime, but the impression I get from it is that it is a protection spell of sorts,” she explained. Father Sergio gave me the cross. After the exorcism attempt, I laid in the bed for several days waiting for the right moment to leave. Father Sergio had given me the necklace for protection. At some point, they forgot to watch me, or someone made a mistake in changing the guard shifts. I didn’t think I was a prisoner, but there is no way I intended to let them do that to me again. I finally got the opportunity, and left. I left the city, and tried to start over. That’s when I met Isabel. I ran into Father Sergio after I had proposed to Isabel. The church had moved to the city I was in with her, and Father Sergio was there setting things up before the other priests arrived. I introduced Isabel to him. He said the necklace would protect both of us. I wore it all the time, except for that night. I had worn it into the market. An old drunk grabbed it and broke the chain. I wondered if Father Sergio knew exactly what I was, and gave me this to keep me from becoming the jaguar. I will never know. I was told that he died of Yellow Fever in 1929 while visiting Venezuela.
I noticed she waited to continue talking. She observed me like I do her. Watching me think through things. I suppose we both would get used to each other’s quirks and idiosyncrasies. It would take time. We just needed to make sure we didn’t get frustrated with each other before we got it figured out. Somewhere in the chaos of the last couple of days, I had just accepted that we would be working together on this. I wondered how it would affect my teaching. There were many questions, but I couldn’t learn it all in one day. I had to accept, too, that she didn’t seem to be purposefully hiding anything from me. There were definite things I didn’t know about her, but wanted to know. I just had to remember that she’s already opened herself up more to me than she probably has to anyone in a very long time. The same went for me too. I still had skeptical moments. From time to time I thought that she could have found someone better than me to do this, but I was in now. No turning back. “I’m sorry. Got lost in thought.”
“It’s quite alright. All of the items and tools that are here can be used for different purposes. I can call anything in this room to me as needed, from anywhere in the world. There is a magical tether from me to it. I open the entrance. Call the object to my hand, and in the blink of an eye it’s here. It’s not really practical for impromptu battles, but for well-planned assaults I can use the room or the objects to house anything that we might need. The spell itself requires that I memorize this entire room, top to bottom. I took the time to know how long the cases and bookshelves are and the dimensions on each object as well as its weight. It took a long time for me to get it all memorized, but it works. There is an empty case there on the end. It’s for anything you would like to put in that you think we might need in a fight. It is getting harder and harder to sneak into places with weapons, therefore, I store them here and call them to me as I need them.” The battle potential of this room gave us a huge advantage. I approached the north end which clearly contained the most prized possessions. On each end of the open display, an extensive collection of knives, swords, handguns and other weapons lined the walls. On the far right in a featured display, a native American bow, quiver and tomahawk. Clearly these belonged to Lincoln. The quiver was empty, but all of the other objects looked pristine. I knew that the weapons had to be exceptionally old if Lincoln was the famed Navajo Monster Hunter. On the left, multiple handguns including a hand-engraved set of Desert Eagle 1911 pistols, 2 Sig Sauer P226 Legion 9mm semi-automatic pistols and a mean-looking .357 Mag Revolver the size of a semi-truck hung on a vertical display with a bottom shelf full of with loaded magazines for each semi-automatic. In the center, an ornate stand holding a small shield about 48 inches in diameter engraved with angel’s wings stood on a silver surface with white accents. Along with the shield, lay a slender gently curving sword. Blue sparkling stone was embedded in the hilt, and the blade itself shimmered with an engraving of a cross and a scale. I felt the power resonating off the blade. I kept my distance. It was almost as if this too, lived and breathed. Danger and power were held in one small blade. It favored a mameluke, the ceremonial swords carried by United States Marines, but was definitely older than that particular design.
Abigail walked up and stood beside me. “It is called Vindicta, the sword of Vengeance. It was given to me by Gabriel. It belonged to an angel. It was broken when he gave it to me. I had to re-forge it. I rarely use it. Only when told to do so by Gabriel or one of the Archangels. It is the Vengeance of God.”
“Vengeance is mine, I will repay,” I quoted from the Bible.
“Yes, well, from time to time, I am tasked to complete that Vengeance,” she said sadly.
“Why you?”
“There is a price to pay for every deal. When I died, Odin and the Valkyries had to have permission to resurrect me. The permission came with a cost that once I was well again, I would take the sword, and use it as commanded. Once I remove the sword from its sheath, my freewill is gone, and I am driven by the command of the archangel. I must admit that the command has always been a righteous one. Thankfully, I have only had to complete the task twice. Not having a choice is the worst burden to bear. I have to trust that Gabriel and his brothers send me at the behest of the Almighty.” I saw her shiver a bit. It was not cold in the room, but talking about the sword and losing her freewill weighed heavy on her.
“If you refuse to use the sword,” I started to ask.
“It’s a command. It flips a switch inside me, and I cannot stop it.”
“Who did it belong to?”
“Raguel. The Angel of Justice. He was murdered by a fallen angel around the time of the crusades. I do not know the whole story, but I know the sword is the most powerful weapon I’ve ever seen on this planet. A sword forged by archangels and endowed by God to exact vengeance on those who are the most grievous of offenders.” With that she stepped away from me, and turned her back on the sword.
I truly did not know what to say. I turned to her and grabbed her elbows and said, “I’ve seen enough, let’s go.” And with a quick chant of the previous incantation with just a slight variance, the world around us blurred again and we stood in the long, dead end hallway. She looked at me, and waited for me to speak. She started to look tired again. I pushed a stray hair behind her ear. “You need rest. The day may soon come when we cannot rest. Take the time you can now. As for the vault, thank you for showing it to me. The sword is a pretty heavy responsibility, yeah?”
“It is,” she looked down.
“Abby, thank you for trusting me with all of this. It helps confirm my decision. I’ve got a purpose here. I’m willing to learn whatever you want to teach me, and maybe along the way I’ve got a few things you can learn from me. It’s all pretty overwhelming though. I admit it.” I said.
“It overwhelms me, too.”
“I’m sure. But now I’m here, and we can talk about all of it together, and start making moves to stop this disaster. And we can keep doing it for as long as the world needs us to do it,” I said feeling a little more confident. She still looked down. “Tell me what are you thinking about?”
“I am afraid we are too late,” she admitted.
“No. Gabriel just warned you. He’s trying to point us in the right direction. You will figure it out. It’s who you are.”
She looked confused, “I’m glad you know who I am, because there are days that I don’t know who I am.”
“My partner, who is going fight with me to save the world,” cheesy but true.
She quirked a smile to the side, “Damn straight we are,” and we both turned to go back upstai
rs. “So, what you are saying is you are my new BFF?”
I threw my head back and laughed, “Yeah, I guess so.” She used humor to cover her lack of confidence. It would take time, but I would help her find her strength again. The world depended on it. The sword cemented that thought in my head. The Angels of Heaven entrusted that weapon into the hands of this human woman, at least semi-human, and somewhere along the way she chose me. She had given me confidence in myself, my shifting ability and my purpose in the world. The least I could do was return the favor.
When we returned upstairs, twilight had consumed the island. My phone rang. It was Ashley, my assistant. She gave me a bit of information as we walked down the hallway. I hung up with her.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“Yes, that was Ashley Montgomery, my assistant. She told me that my team has already dug up some information.” George had the double doors open around the sitting room and my bourbon room. Showing Tadeas the basement and everything inside had taken a huge weight off my shoulders. I still had plenty of secrets to keep, but if the sword did not scare him away, nothing would. “Let’s grab food, and then I’ll tell you everything.” He nodded and we turned our attentions to George.
George appeared, and smiled at both of us, “I laid sandwiches out in the bourbon room. I’ve opened a bottle of wine, as well.”
“George, I love you. Thanks.” I walked over and kissed him on the cheek and he blushed. I turned back, looked at Tadeas, and he grinned taking it all in.
“You are most welcome, child,” he said and turned away with rosy cheeks. I nodded toward the room, and Tadeas followed me in. On the small bar was a platter with enough sandwiches to feed an army.
“I hope you are hungry,” I said.
“He over did it a bit.” He walked behind the bar and poured the wine into glasses. “Who drinks wine with sandwiches?”
