by Paul Sobol
“Please, just Silver. Those things were vampires. You were about to become a midnight snack before I intervened on your behalf.”
“Vampires don’t exist. What did you do to this guy?” Alex nudged a piece of smouldering ash the rain hadn’t fully destroyed. Disturbingly it was part of the vampires head, but as his bare foot made contact it quickly dissolved into just an ordinary looking pile of ash.
“I can explain everything, but I would prefer if we did so someplace warmer and less likely to draw any more unwanted attention. If you will allow me, we shall leave.” Silver stretched out a hand and placed it on Alex’s shoulder.
Shrinking back from it as though something else might explode from it, Alex fought the sudden urge to turn and run. He got the impression that running wasn’t going to do any good. If what this stranger said was true, then Silver had just saved his life.
“I’ve got to go, maybe some other time.”
“Go where?" replied Silver, "you’ve been wandering around the city for a while now and it seems you don’t even know where it is you are going. At least allow me to take you home.”
“Home? I’m not exactly sure where that is.”
“Then I shall take you back to my place. We can decide what to do with you later.” With that Silver stepped forward and grasped Alex firmly under the arm. A nauseating wave of dizziness struck Alex and it felt like the earth had disappeared beneath him. Darkness shrouded his vision, but within the space between heartbeats he was someplace else.
A lamp was turned on and he could see he was a spacious study. Two walls were lined with book shelves, brimming with leather-bound volumes, while the third wall was occupied by a large fireplace which suddenly ignited. Instant warmth chased away any chills that had been lingering in the large room, and in the firelight Alex could make out Silver standing next to a reading lamp and desk. Studying the man, he seemed to be in his early thirties. His clothes appeared to be tailored and of expensive material, but the style was definitely out of date by at least two hundred years. He could almost have been a character from an Elizabethan book.
When he spoke it was with a slight French patois which had lost most of the accent, probably by spending too much time with Americans. His enunciation was impeccable, almost to a fault, which suggested the young man had either been born to the upper class or had received a very good education. Most likely Harvard or Yale. But it was the costume that worried Alex. Why dress like a nobleman of the nineteenth century?
Sitting in a high-backed leather armchair, Silver motioned for Alex to take the seat opposite him, and then busied himself with a nearby bottle and two small glasses. He filled them both a sweet-smelling amber liquid and handed one to his guest. Alex tentatively took the offered glass, made himself comfortable in the chair, and practically inhaled the drink in one go. He didn’t usually drink spirits but at the moment he felt it was warranted.
Calming frayed and shattered nerves, Alex found his thoughts no longer seemed as scattered and was able to use the rational, logical part of his brain once more. There was definitely something going on here that was fundamentally not right. Alex attempted to rationalise through the events that had just occurred; and the only reasonable conclusion was he really had suffered a head trauma. If he were suffering from a concussion then it could be perfectly logical this was all a dream or delusion. Unfortunately, it felt all too real.
“Logically, I have to believe that this is a dream. I may not have had many as realistic as this, but I believe it is possible. I mean, c’mon, vampires? And just then we went from the alleyway to this place, I don’t know where, but it was instantaneous. That doesn’t happen in real life. So if this is a dream, or nightmare, what is my subconscious trying to tell me?”
Silver sat silently and watched the play of emotions cross Alex’s face. He could practically hear the cogs turning ponderously and smiled to himself. He would have to say something before logic made his companion's head explode.
“This is not a dream,” he began, “but it very well may feel like one. I will attempt, as best I can, to fill you in on some of the things that you need to know. There was an incident of great magnitude. A very powerful being was born or, to be more precise, created. Its presence was felt like the creation of new star, blazing away, unconcerned with the matters of the universe around it.
“Those like myself, living around the world, were made aware of this beings presence through a medium we call the Aether. Imagine if the world was covered entirely by water. Most people like myself create small ripples on the surface, but this new being was like a tsunami. The wave it created easily spanned the globe, and this tells us just how powerful it is.
“Just in case you were wondering, yes, this powerful being is yourself.” Silver took a sip of his drink to give Alex some time to absorb this latest revelation.
“Like me, and many others, you now have the ability to control one of the fundamental elements of the universe: Mana. It is the name given to a particular energy that resides in everything around us. In essence, it is the energy that makes life possible, for without it, we die.
“Those who are able to control mana are called magicians, although I must admit, over the years we have been called by other things – sorcerers, witches, wizards, warlocks. But generally we all do the same thing: magic. There are plenty of magical creatures populating not only this world, but many others. You’ve met vampires already. There are also lycans, elves, dwarves, faeries, and plenty of ‘undead’. All these things and more use or rely on mana.
Something within Alex told him to believe what Silver said, knowing it was the truth just like he knew that the sun rose in the east and set in the west. This brought a measure of comfort as well as a certain curiosity to know what else might be hidden from him. If vampires and werewolves are real then what else was possible? He might as well start believing in aliens and God. Silver sensed this small shift in Alex’s mood but was unsure if it was good or bad. He had a right to know what was happening and what was about to happen.
“In this world, over the millennia, mankind has learnt to control the hidden forces of the universe. Today it is more commonly known as magic, but every culture at one time or another had formed some kind of bond to the power accessible to only a few. Shamans, witch-doctors, priests, prophets, they all share this unique ability to channel power and perform supernatural feats.
“Some call it the Life Force, Chi, Wyrding, Essence; it is everywhere and in everything. Every so often a person is born with the ability to use this energy and with proper training can use it to do remarkable things. But first this ability has to awaken. Until now, this happens when a child reaches maturity. There have been cases where the ability has woken later on but it is rare. You however, present something of an enigma. How your ability was awoken is a complete mystery to me, but I know someone who may be able to help with that tomorrow, unless you are able to remember anything prior to our meeting?”
Alex had given up trying to remember. He was tired and wanted nothing more than to take a hot shower and crawl comatose into a warm bed.
With the previous sense of helplessness and frustration at not knowing, Alex could only shake his head. He had been trying to make sense of it all and now he had the added burden of being some kind of superpower. Either that or he had going mad. The thought left as suddenly as it had come to him, and Alex knew he wasn’t crazy. Silver was telling the truth and it felt like the first rays of sunlight on a cloudy day.
Silver waited for an answer that didn't come. “Never mind, we shall see about that tomorrow. Now, you must rest. I have a room set aside for you. I will show you the way.” With that, Silver put aside his glass and stood up. Alex followed after with a dozen unasked questions on his tongue, but given no chance to voice them.
Stepping into a long corridor he could only marvel at the opulence of his surroundings. Plush carpets running as far as he could see, oil paintings every several feet adorned the walls, beautiful chandeliers l
ighting their way past closed doors. All of it spoke of great wealth. Silver paused before one door and pushed it open. The room beyond was just as elegant and luxurious as the rest of the house. A mansion, more like it, Alex corrected himself as he entered the guest room. A large four-poster mahogany bed dominated the room, matching a tall dresser and night stand.
A recently lit fire soon had the room warmed up. Muted orange flames provided the only light, and as they licked at the scented wood they caused the shadows to dance and flicker around the room.
“We shall talk again in the morning,” said Silver. “Sleep well.” With that he turned and left the room, the door silently closing behind him. Despite feeling completely exhausted, Alex walked around the room taking note of its contents. A small antique table, green velvet upholstered chair and an ancient-looking bookshelf off to one side. He tried to read one of the spines but his eyes would no longer focus. Off to one side was another door which led to a bathroom and, feeling the need to clean up, Alex quickly showered before retiring to the impossibly large bed. He fell asleep instantly, but his dreams were scattered and fragmented and dark. At one point he felt an overwhelmingly desperate urge to escape, but the rational part of his mind replied with, “there is nowhere to escape to.”
Morning came way too soon for Alex, who was usually crawling into bed at this unholy hour after an uneventful twelve hour shift. A stray beam of sunlight sneaked past the heavy curtains, falling directly across his face. Groggily, Alex opened one blood-shot eye and cursed the light. The one open eye darted to the bedside table, and the small ornamental clock read ten o'clock.
Alex knew there was something different about today, but the fog of sleep hadn’t lifted yet. Lying in bed for a few minutes, warm and undeservedly comfortable beneath the thick blanket, he suddenly remembered where he was. Getting out of bed rather hurriedly, he was a little embarrassed to find an absence of wearable clothing, considering he fled the hospital in only a gown.
Crossing over to a tall wooden wardrobe he flung it open, finding within a single set of clothes hanging inside. A small note pinned to one of the garments said, ‘Hope they fit’. Taking the clothes out Alex suppressed a groan. It seemed his host had a rather dreary fashion sense, but for the moment it would have to suffice.
The black faded jeans looked brand new, as did the black cotton shirt, both of which fitted almost perfectly. The ankle-length over-coat was made from a soft velvety material, and from the tag inside identified it as pure cashmere. The whole getup made him look ready to attend a funeral; the only thing missing would be the cravat. Looking around the bottom of the wardrobe, Alex spied the last parts of his new ensemble: a pair of highly polished leather boots and neatly folded socks. Like the other pieces of clothing, the footwear was a perfect match, which made Alex suspicious.
Finishing the last bootlace, there was a gentle tap at the chamber door. Quite unbidden, a thought flashed through Alex’s mind - rather silly and irrelevant - in context, but in his present surroundings seemed almost too good an opportunity to pass by.
“Sir,” he said, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; but the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, and so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, that I scarce was sure I heard you.” He crossed the dimly lit room and opened the door.
“Nevermore.” Silver said, greeting him with a smile and cheerful glint to his eyes. “Poe, and one of my favourites.” Why did that not surprise Alex?
“I don’t know why it came to me now, but it seemed somehow… fitting. I must admit though, this place is a little creepy.”
“It is a very old estate and was probably built long before Poe even dreamed up that raven. Even though it has been in my family for generations I reside here only occasionally, preferring more often than not the modest accommodations available in the city.”
Motioning for Alex to follow, they walked down the hallway and made a turn. Down a flight of curved stairs they entered a large open foyer which branched off in several directions. Going through a set of wooden panelled double doors they entered a dining room, dominated by an impractically long table surrounded by high-backed leather upholstered chairs. The table was set for two down one end. Taking their seats, an ancient looking butler entered with a domed silver tray bearing several dishes which turned out to be crispy rashers of bacon, eggs cooked three different styles, freshly toasted bread, croissants and assorted fruits. After depositing these plates the butler left, returning soon with another tray bearing small pitchers of freshly squeezed juices, steaming brews of coffee and tea, and a small frosted jug of milk.
Silver gestured for Alex to begin and soon both had filled their plates and were enjoying the breakfast laid out by the butler. Little was said during the meal but Silver appeared on the verge of saying something and, to Alex, it probably concerned him. Towards the end, when they were enjoying the richly brewed coffee, the aged butler returned carrying a newspaper in his hand. Alex took a moment studying the man. He appeared to be very old but was not quite stooped with age. His white hair, what was left of it, was neatly trimmed, and his servant’s uniform was of good fabric and fitted him well.
The butler silently placed the newspaper on the table near Silver’s elbow and retired from the room. Reaching over, Silver opened the paper to a specific page and looked at it for a short time as though reading its contents. He then passed it over to Alex who took it with both hands, slightly trembling, and began to read. The large printed caption midway down the page caught his attention immediately.
Explosion at Research Lab – Accident or Arson?
An explosion. That was what the doctors and police had told him last night. He had been found at that site. Unconsciously he began to read the article in a soft voice, picking out key passages: “Late last night an explosion at the High Energy & Particle Acceleration Research Laboratory has caused the death of at least one scientist and hospitalization of one civilian. It is unknown if the explosion was purely an accident or, possibly a deliberate act of terrorism... Speculation the destruction was caused during an experiment gone wrong, but experts believe the amount of energy involved was not sufficient to cause so much damage... Security logs recovered showed only one person working in the labs: Dr Robert Sullivan, Head of Alternative Energy Research. His body was not recovered at the site but is presumed dead. The civilian, a security guard, Alexander Ivanovich, was hospitalized but in a stable condition."
Alex stopped reading. It seemed that one sentence summed up all that he was and, in a way, it filled in a few more of the missing pieces. Alexander Ivanovich, security guard. Ok, so being a lowly security guard didn't seem so glamorous, he thought to himself, and all because of a strange twist of fate had he ended up here.
Wrong person at the wrong place and time. But he wasn’t about to let that bum him out. Continuing to read the article there was nothing more about him. Seems his existence was neatly summed up in one sentence, nothing more than a footnote really. I came, I saw, I almost died. Should so get that on a T-shirt, he thought wryly.
The rest of the article was supposition from ‘learned’ people pretending to know what they were talking about, but due to the secretive nature of the research conducted at the facility no one had any idea what could have caused the explosion. Sure there were tanks of volatile chemicals and plenty of high-powered equipment that could have ultimately caused such a catastrophe, but forensic experts allowed on the site ruled out those possibilities.
The blast and subsequent damage was like nothing they had seen before: among the debris were puddles of superheated metals still bubbling, and yet blocks of stone and concrete nearby remained cool to the touch. About the only thing the so-called ‘experts’ agreed upon was the absence of harmful radiation in the area - at least they weren’t looking at another Chernobyl.
As Alex finished reading, he put the paper down and stared out at nothing, too focused on his inner thoughts to really pay any attention to his host or the butle
r who re-entered the room. A few softly spoken words passed between master and servant but not loud enough for Alex to make out.
Silver turned to his guest. “You look like you need some fresh air. Come with me.”
“Where?”
“To see an old friend, one whom I believe may be able to help you,” replied Silver, and pre-empting any more questions turned to the butler and gave several quick instructions. The old man nodded silently before disappearing through the side door. Making their way through the foyer and out past impressively carved front doors, Alex and Silver stood waiting, bathed in sunlight.
Breathing in the crisp morning air, Alex marvelled at how beautifully warm the sunlight felt on his face. It was a miracle the weather was so nice this day, considering they were supposed to be in the middle of winter. He half expected grey skies and rain today, but everything was pleasingly to the contrary.
The neatly mowed grounds beyond the gravel driveway were bordered by tall uniform lines of trees, resplendent in colours ranging from emerald green to burning red. It was such a rare display of foliage that Alex wondered if winter even existed here. Did Silver employ some magic spell that kept the trees from losing their leaves, or the neatly planted rose bushes in their fullest bloom all year long?
The sudden sound of a car engine roaring to life shattered the magical stillness of the morning. From around the corner of the mansion, presumably where the garage was located, a black Rolls Royce appeared. It stopped before Silver and Alex with a small crunching of gravel. Silver, defying usual etiquette, opened the rear door himself and got in. Alex followed closely behind. The old butler turned in the driver’s seat and glowered at Silver.
“Godfrey can be a bit of a stickler at times,” said Silver with a smile. “I swear the older he gets the more he coddles me. But then, what would I do without him?”
The car slowly took off down the driveway. The Rolls Royce was certainly a beautiful car, one of the older models that still retained its class and style. Sleek lines, a touch of polished chrome, and the engine purred like a lion. Dark tinted windows gave an air of exclusivity while the all-leather interior expressed pure luxury only the rich could afford.
