by Steve Hester
CHAPTER 20
The house was beautiful. It was sat in the middle of the Hale district of the city and was surrounded by other equally pretty properties that were all going for seven figures. It was also easily the biggest one in the local area.
Hale was home to the rich; footballers from Manchester City and United, business men, media moguls, entrepreneurs, they flocked to the leafy suburbs for the chance of comfortable living in gorgeous surroundings a mere stone’s throw from the hustle and bustle of the city centre.
Like with most of its neighbours it was hard to make out the house from the road. An eight-foot tall wall with spiky railings surrounded it and rows of conifers on the inside made sure that anyone who was likely to pry in couldn't see a thing.
The homeowner had his own security. Most of his neighbours had alarm systems, usually wired directly to the police, as well as all kinds of sensors and CCTV monitoring but this house had security guards that prowled the expansive grounds day and night.
They weren't obviously armed but they seemed to exude a sense of threatening power. A promise hung in the air that anyone who ended up on the property uninvited would, in all likelihood, never be seen again. Ever.
Unusually there were no dogs guarding the premises and the reason for this was twofold. Firstly the owner of the house hated animals of all kinds but secondly, and most tellingly, no dogs would ever go near there. People walking their pets would find them pulling to get on the other side of the road as they passed. They could see what the human population never could. They knew EXACTLY what the guards were and, even worse, what they were guarding.
The inside of the house was as opulent as the outside and furnished in lots of oak, polished stone and fine fabrics. The kitchen was a wide, open plan affair with a huge preparation island in the middle and a massive table in the dining area next to it.
A cup span through the air and smashed against the wall next to the big American style fridge. Luke warm coffee dripped down the walls and started to collect on the grouting in between the floor tiles.
“This is unacceptable. UNACCEPTABLE!!” shouted Gregor.
The rug next to the dining table had been pulled back to reveal a circle on the floor surrounded by arcane symbols that glowed slightly. Stood in the middle of it shimmering was the astral projection of the Sympathetic Man. His head was bowed slightly as Gregor's wrath filled the room.
“You are being paid handsomely for this. I have given you resources and time and I expect results, not SHOWBOATING!!! Your over-confidence will be our undoing.”
“He had no chain. I couldn't sense anything on him beyond his mortality. He should not have been able to manifest...”
Gregor swiped his laptop off the dining table. It flew across the room and smashed against the sliding doors to his garden.
“And yet he did. The bloodline of this Key must be purged like the others, our victory relies on it! If he manages to manifest properly then we are back to square one! Why couldn't you have taken him at the house?”
“There were too many people, too many witnesses. Gothic were there as well. It was too public.”
Gregor paused for a moment. The realisation of what the Sympathetic Man had said finally dawned through his anger.
“What do you mean he had no chain?”
The sympathetic man raised his eyes for the first time. ”There was no chain. There was no conduit. He should be dead now, you're right, but somehow he was able to harness his power without it.”
Gregor moved away from the circle towards the kitchen area rubbing his chin.
“That shouldn't be, it would have been drawn to him. He should be as vulnerable as a new born kitten without it. He should be human.” He muttered to himself.
He opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. He spun off the cap and took a long drink of it.
“And yet... and yet he was able to use his powers...” There was a long pause as he considered the impact of the news. “You know where he is now?”
The sympathetic man nodded.
“Using your equipment I've found that he's been taken to a police station not too far from my hideout. I can get him within the hour.”
“Then we have a new plan. Bring him here.”
There was a moment of hesitation as the Sympathetic Man tried to work out what his employer was now thinking.
“It will not be as easy to bring him here alive.”
“But not impossible?”
“No, not impossible but why? Why not just kill him?”
He watched as Gregor paced back and forth on the stone tiles.
“There is something different about him. He's still able to partially manifest somehow, I've never heard of such a thing before. Who knows what kind of power he is in control of and what we could do with him! He could potentially be the key to all our plans. He would be a great prize.”
“This will take longer than I had anticipated. I will need time to prepare; capture was not part of our original agreement.”
Gregor nodded and pursed his lips for a moment. He walked over to the table and on it was an old heavy metal box. He took a key from his pocket and opened the lock.
A glow came from the inside. Separated by wooden slats were crystals. They swirled under his gaze and he felt a slight tingle as he pulled one out.
“Beautiful aren't they?” He said. The Sympathetic Man just nodded.
“Each one a soul, trapped there in eternal torment and such power in each one. You have any idea of the anguish a human must be going through to capture it? You'd think the best place to find them would be to look towards the battlefields but there is still hope there. Hope for an end to the fighting or just hope of seeing a loved one’s face again. You must destroy all they have and take all hope from them and only then are they ripe enough to be plucked. It took me a long time to find the right ones to pay for your services.”
He held the crystal up to the Sympathetic Man's face.
“This one was one of the earliest. Robbed of his wife, his job, his home, his friends. He was mocked and vilified by the entire country and ultimately found his end with a hangman’s noose wrapped around his throat. I collected his soul before his feet stopped kicking.”
He dropped it. There was a wisp of smoke as it impacted on the stone floor and a noise beyond hearing that bypassed the ears altogether and went straight through the skull to the brain. It was like fingernails on a blackboard only much, much worse. Gregor lifted his shoe and stamped on it, grinding the delicate fragments even further.
“I want him. No more problems. No more excuses. If anyone gets in your way then make it public if you have to. I don't care how it's done or what you have to do anymore. Gothic knows you're onto him? Kill them as well if needs be, it's what you used to be good at isn't it? If it's not done before the night is out there won't be a corner of this world or the other that you can hide out in.”
The Sympathetic Man nodded again before he vanished from inside the circle.
Gregor paced back and forth in his kitchen. This was not the plan he had in his head when he started putting things in motion but this could now work even better. He just hoped that his assassin would find the boy before the others or it would have all been for nothing.
In his base in Moss Side, the Sympathetic Man stood in his own circle, clenching and unclenching in his fists. He HAD gotten sloppy and overconfident. He had been sat idle and been away from the fight for too long and it had dulled his edge but now he had one objective left and carte blanche to do it however he wanted. No more slipping in the shadows and con tricks, now he could get back to his roots.
He started to pile up his equipment in the middle of the room and then rubbed out the chalk from the circle. He started to think about those days’ aeons ago during The War and the blood that spilt at his feet from angel and demon alike. It was never going to be that way again but for tonight there could be just a taste.
During the carnage in the car he'd felt nothing. He'd been so convin
ced that Rob was just another ordinary human and had decided to dispatch him like the others. How could he have been so wrong?
Oh well, time to move on anyway as by the morning he'd either have succeeded or be on the run. Either way he would have those crystals and his employer’s home wasn't impregnable, no matter how much he thought it was.
He finished, clicking his fingers and a small blue flame appeared on his fingertip. As he closed the front door and walked up the street the flames had already started to lick up at the bedroom curtains.
