Sun, December 13, 2074 3:02 am: Facility 18, Idylewilde, Strangetown
Hyperion's prayer mat was tucked away at the foot of the bench that he was sitting on, but he hadn't the heart to unroll it. There were times in his life when the world went so still that he could hear nothing save for his own measured breathing. It was during those times that he felt the least alone and there was some comfort in that, however irrational. It was as though someone were watching, waiting the moment that he would establish communication. The possibility of it thrilled him, but when the time came to prostrate himself before some unseen deity, he only ever faltered. His prayer mat had never been unrolled.
In truth, he had his doubts about whether Deus Rex listened to the prayers of something like him. Having been born apart from nature, apart from the Creator's design, who was to say that Deus Rex even knew to listen for his prayers? Perhaps when Hyperion finally made up his mind to pray, his thoughts would vibrate at a frequency that only devils could hear.
Born apart? Even to say that he was born seemed like a stretch. He did not know the particulars of his manufacture and doubted whether he would understand them if he did. However, he did know where he came from. Over the years, he had discovered that some relics from the event of his birth survived and were accessible if he knew where to ask. He had seen the incubation tanks, still stained with amniotic fluid and some trace amounts of blood. Once, he was even able to bribe a technician into letting him view the well-preserved remains of his biological mother, Subject#367801. I brought a chick back here once, little Ken-Sé Ib slut. Scared her so bad she nearly wet herself. See, people think that this stiff is still alive because of the abdominal compressions-- makes it look like she's breathing. Yeah? Really it's just a spasm left over from the butchery that you see here before you. I read this opinion a couple weeks back that Dr. Beaker wrote. It basically said that life energy can exist as a series of echoes post-mortem if the ecstatic product is introduced into an energetic system in sufficient quantities. So if she's moving, it's because to some infinitesimal degree, the life force is still attached to the body. Pretty cool, hunh? Hyperion had the urge to be sick at that moment and had to leave the laboratory. What he had seen and heard, he was certain, no person should know. Sita had decided not to come with him on that little adventure. In the end, she had been right.
Hyperion never had the opportunity to get within a hundred yards of the thing that the staff jokingly referred to as "Nervous Subject", a moniker that he had earned because of his habitual noncompliance. For a guy in a coma, he managed to make his thoughts and opinions felt just fine when it was time to do routine lab work. Hyperion was sure that he had even dreamed of Orion once. His sister, on the other hand, claimed to have never had a dream in her life and could not understand the concept.
Now Sita was gone, lost somewhere in the wilderness with that thing. Hyperion had been all over the world, but Sita had never so much as left the thirty-six acre military base. She could not survive out there. Hyperion could feel her exhaustion, her desperation, her fear. She was not so far away, but Orion had a preternatural cleverness that went beyond all human understanding. They would not be found until the creature was good and ready, unless of course Hyperion himself had anything to do with it. Magical energy left echoes and traces just like ecstatic life energy did. Hyperion would sniff Orion out like a dog because it was what he had been synthesized and trained to do.
The door cracked open then, but Hyperion did not look up from his lap.
"This room is private," he called out.
"Then might I suggest you place a lock on the door?" Hyperion jumped up to attention, but dropped his posture when he saw just whom he was addressing. Selket Redding glided into the locker room with her hands folded over her stomach. Her body language was just as meek and pious as ever, despite the impropriety of her deliberately walking in on a man in his underwear.
"What could you possibly want?” Maybe this was not the most appropriate greeting for an RDI agent to give to a former Magus, but there was something about this woman that irked him to no end. Selket shrugged her shoulders.
"I am here at the request of the Magister Templi. You, on the other hand, have your orders and are presently in insubordination,” she said.
Hyperion could have laughed then, and would have if the situation were less serious. She was so external to the operation of the Royal Department of Investigations and yet so convinced of the relevance of her role here that it was comical to him. Selket made a habit of inserting herself into places where her influence was nil. Hyperion knew where he was meant to be right now, and it was not chasing vampires.
"You may tell the Magister Templi that we have a hostage situation here, and I have intimate knowledge of both the captor and the hostage. Thanks for stopping by to check in. I would open the door for you but as you have just demonstrated, you are more than capable of doing it yourself." Selket snorted.
"Agent Tvaud, you have is a responsibility to the Garrison case."
"All due respect Mistress Redding, but I fail to see where that is any of your concern." And he meant it. The Garrison question would be solved when the Sheut returned to the palace. Prince Puck had agreed to debrief him about the situation and to ask for guidance on how to proceed. Until then, Jareth Garrison's activities were being monitored, and the palace was on alert but no more. The case was officially stalled. Selket closed her eyes and exhaled through her nose.
"Sit," she said.
"No." Selket paused to scrutinize him. He could see where she might have been intimidating to most anyone else. There was a deft superiority about her that saw through to the weaknesses of others. It was almost leonine. He did not know what she saw in him then, but would waste no time in proving that his power could match hers pound for pound.
"The Magister Templi has intelligence that the daemon is hoping use Colonel Tvaud to bait you into tracking him down to someplace remote, where he will then use you to get to Jareth Garrison." This time he did laugh however mirthless, however choking.
"What?"
"He thinks you know where to locate Garrison." Her tone was matter-of-fact. Hyperion shook his head.
"How can you know that? How can he know that? Orion Specter was locked in a freezer for eleven years."
"A freezer that your sister guarded." This explanation only plunged him deeper into disbelief. The Garrison case was classified, and he had never discussed it with Sita. Even if he had, that would not explain what Orion Specter wanted with a fugitive vampire. But there was a sense of victory in entertaining Selket's hypothesis. He had been attesting that there was something different about Jareth Garrison from the offset of the investigation. Only Pandarus gave him the time of day when he reported sensing a near-divine magical footprint in the places where Garrison had been. Hyperion cleared his thoughts.
"What exactly are you insinuating? Colonel Tvaud has no knowledge--"
"Let's not play games." Selket waved his objection away before he had even finished making it. She did not seem agitated, only eager to get the point. This too riled him.
"Why would I have communicated the details of that investigation to her?"
"Why indeed? You see, I think you discovered a very unexpected piece of intelligence during the course of your investigation. Maybe even the sort of intelligence that would stop you from so much as batting an eyelash when I said that Orion has taken an interest in Garrison." Here, Hyperion turned his back on her. On the one hand, he was curious about what she knew or thought she knew. On the other, she had done nothing but accuse him of dereliction of duty from the moment she walked in the door. If he had a third hand, it would be wringing her neck. He was being manipulated with all the subtlety of a mine blast.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said.
"The Magister Templi and I believe that having you in this search party will jeopardize the safety of everyone involved, and potentially pose a threat to civilians. Moreover, if the vampire is not detained for the Fae attacks and something happens to him because you were off scampering after your sister, she will no longer be a viable hostage. The daemon will kill her, Agent Tvaud. You know this as well as I do." Selket thought that she was frightening him, but there was a glimmer of amusement hidden within this information. In a simple turn of phrase, it was Hyperion that struck gold.
"Do you have reason to suspect that something might happen to the vampire, Mistress Redding?" He glanced at her over his shoulder. Her expression did not change, and she said nothing. This in itself was telling. Hyperion smirked at her. He understood what her interest was now. He did not know what Garrison was or even what his relationship to the vampire Sheut was but evidently, the Magister Templi wanted him in custody so that he could dangle it over the Sheut's head. What was even more curious was Selket's fear that Garrison would be compromised before all of that could happen. She needed Garrison alive. Thea, Hyperion presumed, wanted Garrison dead. What an ineffective lot of toddlers they were, all squabbling over the same toy. "Do I sense some dissent among your Dissenters, Mistress Redding?" Still nothing. She was too haughty to admit defeat, but too stupid not to walk into it. "You will not find the daemon without me."
"We know."
"So what do you propose?"
"Only that we allow the Resistance to take over the Garrison situation. Not Thea's sort, ours-- good comrades who are loyal to the Magister Templi. We can divert Orion's attention from there. All I need from you is a location." Ah. It was one thing for the RDI to have Garrison in custody and another to hand him over to Selket. Hyperion had no love for the vampire Sheut, but he did not trust the Dissenters. They were too clumsy and disorganized. There were too many secrets and factions. There were far too many of Thea's sort among them, yes, but there were too many of Selket's sort as well. Hyperion put his faith in Deus Rex and swore his allegiance to the crown. If he handed Jareth to the Dissenters, it would be a betrayal on two counts.
"That's... complicated," he said.
"Alternatively, I could get that information from your good friend Pandarus Wexler." Selket was needling now. It was time for her to go.
"He won't speak with you, not if he thinks that there is even the possibility of this endangering Sita's life or his investigation." A pause. Hyperion could almost feel something brewing behind his back. It was so uncanny and so vicious that he had the very real urge to send the wall locker unit hurtling toward her.
"You know, I saw Agent Wexler's girls at evening prayer the other day. Their mother has been bringing them since the equinox. Beautiful children." Selket had lowered her voice as though she were coaxing a wild animal. The wall locker began to rattle.
"Are you threatening me?" His pulse was surging. Selket was insane. There was no reasoning with insane.
"No, I am bargaining with you. So what is it going to be?" At last, Selket had stumbled into a place where she did have the advantage. "It would not be all at once, mind. I would start with the mother and work my way down." Hyperion squeezed his eyes shut. Selket's energy was fractured. White hot splinters of irreparable damage snaked through her soul. Hyperion did not doubt her, not for an instant.
"Jareth Garrison lives in Yitzenburg with his sister and brother-in-law at 1023 Maple Crest Road, just off of Route T-29. He returned there on December 1st."
"Good boy." The storm at his back was subsiding. Hyperion whipped around to face the woman, his courage rising.
"What about the Sheut? Aren't you concerned about what he might do?"
"No."
"No?!" Selket flattened her dress against her body, preparing to leave.
"Good day to you, Agent Tvaud, and good luck in your search." Selket reached for the door handle but seemed to think better on it. "Oh and one other thing before I go-- You are an agent in the service of Her Majesty the Queen. So put some damned clothes on."
Fri, December 11, 2074 11:02 pm-- Ethelden Palace; Amhurst, Veronaville
Selket was standing in Ahriman's doorway, unpainted and half-dressed. Her nightgown had a thin and fluid drape to it, almost as though she had just stepped in from a rainstorm. Ahriman was certain that he had never seen her hair hanging loose upon her shoulders like this before. She looked like a girl. Worse than that, she looked very nearly touchable. She leaned back from his door, craning her neck to get a good look at the empty hallway.
"Comrade, we need to talk," she whispered. Ahriman braced the door frame.
"I can't let you in here!" Indeed, he could not. Propriety aside, he kept a small apartment. It was untidy. It was cluttered. It was not suitable for any woman, and this woman was not suitable for any place besides.
"Please, I only have a few minutes." Her fingers landed on his wrist so lightly that she must have been afraid that he would pull away. Instead he just stood there, too conflicted to notice her touch as it happened. The very idea of being alone with Selket Redding where he ate and slept and performed any number of solitary functions cycled on an endless loop. Her eyes were searching his, almost pleading. She would be such a terror later if she did not have her way now. Selket bowed her head in relief as he stepped aside, letting her pass. Once the door was shut, she plowed into a speech that came so quickly, it could only have been rehearsed. "I'm sorry Magister Templi, I know that this is irregular, but I've been to see Loki Beaker, and he said something to me that really stuck, and I got to thinking about the Jareth Garrison attacks--" Ahriman gestured behind her, silent but sudden enough to grab her attention.
"Have a seat." Selket began to lower herself onto the chair behind her, not looking back. "Mind the cat." Webb, Ahriman's obese and crotchety minx sat curled on the wing chair licking his paw. Selket jumped and pushed a pile of books aside as she took her seat on the sofa. Ahriman had forgotten that she was afraid of cats. He brought over a chair from the dining table. When the two of them were sitting opposite, she seemed to lose her train of thought. Selket shook her head as though to rid herself of some distraction.
“Jareth Garrison, he…” Her voice trailed off. Ahriman folded his hands on his lap and looked down at the carpet. The only way for him to focus on what she was saying was not to look at her. The sight of her left no room for other thought. Selket cleared her throat. “Allow me to start over: RDI Reconnaissance has managed to piece together a timeline of the past twenty-five years of Garrison’s life in an effort to build a case against him. According to their research, Garrison’s behavior started to become somewhat erratic about twelve years ago. There were reports of numerous car accidents, aggravated assaults, vagrancy, arson, substance abuse, the list goes on. He became estranged from his young daughter—“
“Daughter?” Ahriman plucked the word from the air and displayed it apart from the others as a thing of singular value. A daughter could simplify everything. Selket rested her hand at the base of her neck.
“That is correct. The Vali Division has her on record—Rosa Noland, age sixteen but before you ask, she is somewhat magically gifted. Whether Garrison has Fae lineage is still unclear. The girl’s mother is a daughter of Cade Muenda.” Ahriman sat back in his chair. Selket was looking at him now, trying to gauge his reaction. There was nothing to gauge. An estranged daughter whose status as a partling meant nothing about Garrison himself was a little better than worthless information.
“Anyway,” Selket continued, “Garrison dropped off of his local police blotter about four years ago. The RDI thinks that he is living in Alpinloch. Long story short, he was clean for most of his life. Something traumatic must have happened to him, something big. He was positively low-key before this. And then there’s Orion Specter.” Ahriman cringed involuntarily. Just the name was enough to send him back into his shell these days. Orion was a continuing source of embarrassment. “Do you remember what he said to us all those years ago? That he is a hunter of ‘wolves, devils and filth’, all common terms for vampires? And here’s something that I never told you—I asked him plainly if he was sent to kill the Sheut. His exact words to me were, ‘Ah, yes. That, maybe.’ I thought that he was stalling or misdirecting at the time but now, I understand. You see, when I went to see Loki Beaker, he suggested that there is only one certain outcome for Orion in kidnapping Sita Tvaud. He said that to Orion’s mind, the surest way to attract the brother would be to take the sister. Now what privileged information has Hyperion Tvaud been up to his eyeballs in for the past three weeks? I know that this is going to sound completely insane,” Selket inched forward on the sofa. “But what if Mahadeva allowed Garrison to drink from him at some point?”
Ahriman was on his feet. He clutched his forehead and looked dead at her. He wanted to lose himself in the most beautiful woman that he had ever seen, all full breasts and magenta eyes and soft skin and glossy hair. None of it could drill the thought from his mind.
“Why else would he bring all of this down upon himself? Why attack Faes? I think there is a void that started widening in him the moment Mahadeva walked out of his life—“
“No, it’s not possible.”
“—and so he starts chasing the next available thing. If Garrison were harboring any part of the Sheut’s energy—“
“That’s enough, Mistress Redding.” Selket folded her hands under her arms as if to look less threatening. Ahriman could feel the color rushing to his face. Even Kvornan Tricou would not commit anything as atrocious as what she was suggesting. “I’m afraid that this is all very circumstantial. What could possibly be the Sheut’s motivation for something like that? Nothing good or even advantageous could come of it, and he would know as much. It’s unthinkable. Just consider what the consequences would be. Mahadeva would die, his soul would rise up to Paradise and there would still be part of him lingering down here for as long as Jareth Garrison lived. And what about Jareth himself? He would…”
“Lose his mind?” Ahriman glared at her.
“I won’t entertain this any further, comrade.” Selket stood. She closed the distance between them until they were eye to eye. He was afraid that she could see him sweat. She took his hands in her own.
“I know what I’m suggesting, I know just how farfetched it is, but I would not have come here tonight if every fiber in my body didn’t tell me that there was some truth to it. And what if it is true? How do you proceed, Magister Templi?” Her voice was very low, next door to a whisper. Ahriman bowed his head away, and she let go. He felt her thin gown snare his shoulder as she passed. “I am sorry if I woke you.” The door closed behind her with barely a sound.
If she had given him the time, he would have told her that she had not awoken him. Sleep had proven elusive for months now, out of busyness or worry or both. When it came, it often brought his nightmares back. Ahriman was a man in decline. He knew the great urgency that sprang up at the end of a person’s life, that pull to right what remained wrong. Every day, he fought to keep the world from changing and every day, a little more of what he clung to slipped between his fingers. Kvornan Tricou’s seemingly endless tenure on Earth was a threat to his people, and perhaps a threat to all people. Somewhere out there was a very delicate little girl at the heart of all things, and she was at his mercy.
Weds December 9, 2074, 4:21 am: Ethelden Palace-- Amhurst, Veronaville 
"Sir ur-batonu kvont arbad, ur-batonu jirhe vi tines. Uorde, uorde..." Selket no longer wore a veil. When she took to her knees before burnt offerings of deadly nightshade, it was not done in the temple. Her forbidden communion with the Ib of Deus Rex happened in deep corners of the palace before sunrise, when all was still. No longer a Magus and forever altered by Orion Specter's energy, she doubted whether the Ib was listening.
"Luminar Mundi, ensonma hem criché. Parameshvara Thoth, ensonma hem criché..." Her body rocked against the undertow of nervous energy that swelled within and without her. She was losing circulation in her legs. As she aged, the act of prostration became physically trying to the point where her concentration was broken. Selket bowed her head to her knees, palms down upon the floorboards.
"Ken-viotzo pagam ken-rota ihora, ken-sirc pagam ken-sirc, ensonma hem criché." She would offer her hands in the service of righteous work. She would have the will of Deus Rex executed through her in word and in deed. She would plead until she had her answer.
"Lahkshe hem epi so domunma dor mahaservi..." Ahriman had not consulted her about his and Thea’s most recent plan to target innocent people-- Third party bystanders that were not to blame for the Vampire Sheut's continued existence. If given the chance, Thea would get them all killed for the sake of an exercise that was both morally wrong and potentially ineffectual.
“…vi nominé Tenebris, miir ono.” Jareth Garrison. As far as any of them knew, he had not even been in contact with the Sheut for over a decade. Perhaps he was responsible for attacks on faes but that was for the RDI to determine. The Dissenter Resistance was not in the business of prosecuting vampires for misconduct. Thea’s motives for wanting Jareth dead were so transparent that they defied mention. Thea had trusted Antoine. She had loved him, and he betrayed her. This went beyond the political; it was personal.
There were those amongst them that would have nothing to do with any of this. They would see it as punishing the Sheut for acting in accordance with his will. It was murder. It was sacrilege. Men like Antoine who were so often the voice of reason were running low amongst their number. Selket regretted it.
Jareth Garrison. Selket had never met him but she had known his brother. She was of the understanding that they had different fathers. Maybe if he had the ability to force a fae into submission, he was some portion fae himself. According to Ahriman, Hyperion Tvaud had been investigating Jareth before his sister was abducted by—
Selket held her breath, her heart battering her ribcage. Everything was falling into place. Take the sister and the brother will follow. Could Orion have known about the investigation? What had Hyperion uncovered? A vampire with the life force of a Sheut… A vampire who threatens the sanctity of the Ib… It was monstrous and unspeakable but not impossible. Selket raised her hands to the sky in surrender. Finally, she had her answer.
Tues December 8, 2074 10:08 pm: 3387 Blackhorn Cr., Yitzenburg, Alpinloch
The door closed and locked as though by its own volition. The faes amongst them never confirmed which was the gatekeeper to their proceedings and everyone happily assumed that it was Ahriman. Being in the dark about the safety measures in place made Mariel nervous. Whoever enchanted that door knew the guest list and kept tally of the arrivals. This person had the authority to bar the exit or leave the entrance open to intruders. Not knowing the identity of that person was a dangerous thing for such a small and clandestine organization.
Tonight's meeting was somewhat privileged. Mariel's siblings and eldest nephew were there but the spouses were absent. Fae lords like Odin Rys and Anshar Davenport were there but royalty like Sarada Summerdream were not. None of Cade's people were there. Mariel was having difficulty piecing together what message could not be conveyed to her absent comrades and this made her nervous too.
Her mother was as rash of a decision-maker as Ahriman was cautious. These qualities might turn out to be a boon in the long run but for now, the organization was treading water. There would be a split if no progress was made, and Mariel's absent comrades would most likely rally behind Ahriman.
Then there was the question of Selket Redding, whose voice was beginning to carry farther than just Ahriman's ear. Mariel would not be surprised if Selket became the center of a third faction that operated under Ahriman's wing and without his sanction.
As for Mariel herself, her ideology was more closely linked to Ahriman's. She did not want to choose between what she knew in her heart to be just and her fealty to her mother if the organization were to split. More than that, she was certain that the resistance could not survive being cleaved in half and what then? Theirs was important work-- the most important work-- and if not these people then who? Who would step up to take on the most powerful man in the world? They were done waiting for divine intervention.
The Magister Templi raised his hand in silence and the room fell still. In his gentle way, he remained as monumental and arresting a figure as Mariel's mother. When he spoke, his voice rumbled with the toppling force of an earthquake.
"Welcome comrades and thank you. Forgive me if I do not take the time to introduce tonight's agenda but there is much ground to cover and little time to do so. Mahadeva Kvornan Tricou was last seen on November 25th at a cafe in downtown Pleasantview. As far as we know, he has not yet returned to the palace. If he is in contact with the Ib, as is believed, then it is no longer advantageous for us to attempt to identify and sequester her. She will be brought to Ethelden, perhaps within the month. Her estimated date of arrival is unknown. This council has determined that our best course of action would be to shift our focus away from the Ib and towards compromising the Sheut. This stage of our operation will not be simple. There is no prison that can bind him, no weapon that can hinder him.
According to his 1998 testimony before the Magi, Deus Rex continues to task him and will not allow him to rest until his tasks are accomplished. Most notably, he must continue the magical propigation of the fae race. As far as this council is aware, the Sheut has not reproduced since the death of Maheshvara Fricorith. The Sheut is consorted and it may only be a matter of time before the birth of a second child."
The room broke out into murmuring. Mariel watched her mother's face carefully. None of this was news to Thea Masters. Consorted? Mariel wrinkled her nose at the thought. She wondered what woman would dare.
Ahriman raised his hand for quiet as he continued, deepening the timbre of his voice.
"In the meantime, we must prepare our defenses. The Sheut can be compromised but only if he is vulnerable to the point of psychological instability. This will mean making some very powerful enemies. So if any of you have the least reservation about moving forward, then you have been a good comrade and thank you for your service. Please see yourself to the door."
No one stirred. Towards the front of the room, Mariel's father bowed his head in thought. To Mariel's left, her brother licked his lips and smiled. Mariel's mother lifted her head to address the assembly.
"This is not a decision to be made without due consideration," she said. "Some of you are very young. Most of you have families. Comrades, understand that what we make here is a declaration of war. We will strike those closest to him. Our first target is to be Jareth Alexei Garrison."
The room erupted but Mariel did not have the presence of mind to listen in on the individual conversations. Squeezing her eyes shut, she prayed that her corner seat and general insignificance erased her from the radar of anyone who might be watching. Only her sister Hannah knew about Alexei. She wondered briefly what Hannah's reaction had been but she could not turn. Even with her eyes closed, the room was spinning. Mariel's mother shouted to be heard over the din.
"Antoine has betrayed us. Cade Muenda is likewise an enemy. Make no mistake-- There can be no neutral parties. We are uncertain of the whereabouts of our target. We may even err in believing that his sacrifice would have any adverse effect on the Vampire Sheut. It is a calculated risk and one that will not end well for most, if not everyone sitting in this room."
Mariel covered her eyes with her hand, blocking as much of the light as she could. She might draw attention to herself this way but after so many months of harboring her secret affair, it was all that she could do not to scream. Ahriman's voice cut through her self-imposed darkness.
"If I may, Comrade Masters, it should also be noted that Mr. Garrison is currently under RDI investigation. He has been implicated as a suspect in the attack of a fae. It will not long before he is found. Once the RDI has located the target, they will report to me. Comrade Kivetz has agreed to intercept the RDI before Mr. Garrison can be brought in for questioning. If our comrade is unsuccessful, we will strike at Vajra. From there, we will enlist the aide of Comrade Redding. She has some... experience breaking into maximum security prison cells."
Mariel removed her hand from her eyes, planting the heel of it against her forehead. This wasn't real. It could not be.
"Mariel darling, you look as though you have something to say." Her mother's voice. Mariel opened her eyes to find everyone in the room staring at her. She shrank into her chair.
"No, nothing." Mariel hiccuped between no and nothing. Her mother folded her hands upon her knee.
"Are you able to proceed then?"
"Yes comrade, I am." Mariel's mother tilted her majestic head upward to address the room.
"The true test of our commitment, not merely as an organization but as individuals, is yet to come. And when it does, who here will be ready to die for the light?" Mariel's brother Raul stood, almost reflexively.
"I will be ready." His lips curled back from his teeth when he spoke. Anshar stood to the far right of Raul.
"I also," he shouted. Mariel was quickly beginning to sense that the question had been intended less for the more impassioned persons in the room. She stood on wobbling legs. Perspiration beaded at her temples. She would not see Alexei harmed but she knew the price valor. Just the thought of it brought her pulse to the surface of her skin.
If only she could turn back time to a few moments prior, when her mother asked if she had anything to say. Mariel did have something to say, the one thing that was left to be said. She balled her fists at her sides.
"Death to the Vampire Sheut!" A chorus of similar oaths resounded throughout the room in response, like the angry swarming of wasps.
Thurs December 3, 2074 10:10 am: 8132 Clematis St.- Pollonatia, Strangetown
“You have some fucking nerve being here.” Loki’s tone was placid, perhaps even vaguely astounded but his eyes conveyed a very different message. An entire litany of malicious intentions seemed to be festering behind those eyes. This man hated Selket and he had every right to. Once upon a time ago, she freed the creature that murdered his wife.
Selket’s posture stiffened as she made her way across the room. Her presence in the home of Dr. Loki Beaker was an intrusion but it was not without warrant. This man was her best and only resource. Everyone who shared his knowledge was long dead.
As Selket passed by the swimming pool, she spared a brief glance at the Townie woman treading water. She was acquainted with this woman. Ivy Copur was a good Dissenter, the ex-partner of one of Thea’s more exuberant sons, Raul Kivetz. Selket did not like to think of a comrade as a zealot but men like Raul posed an ethical gray area for the entire movement by way of their actions. Selket was uncertain of who had planted this Ivy woman in the household of Dr. Loki Beaker but there could be no mistake-- She was not there by accident. Selket turned her attention to Loki.
“I am sorry of interrupting, Dr. Beaker, but we need to talk. It is concerning a friend of yours in military.” Loki hardly blinked. They had only known one another for a short time many years ago but Selket understood him to be a man guided solely by his intellect. If he felt anything, he dismissed it. If he knew the full story, he only related half. If he thought for a moment that he might suffer Selket Redding for the sake of Sita or Hyperion Tvaud, he would carefully consider the compromise. Loki inclined his head towards Ivy but his stare remained fixed on Selket.
“Ivy, my pet, I hate to be a bore…” Loki did not complete his sentence. Ivy climbed out of the pool, silent but seemingly put-off. Thea would hear about this visit. Not that it mattered. Selket would explain herself no further than what Ivy had observed and she did not expect to be interrogated. There were secrets even amongst comrades.
Once Ivy was through the door, Loki gestured towards the chair opposite him. “Sit,” he snapped. Selket clenched her jaw and did as she was told. She could not recall the last time she was spoken to this way but her purpose here held far more gravity than her personal dignity. She folded her hands in her lap.
“I am afraid the news I have is not easy,” she said.
“Out with it.” Loki was clutching his knees hard enough to blanch his knuckles. Selket scraped her teeth over her bottom lip. The room had gone frigid.
“Yesterday morning, Orion Specter escaped detainment. He killed an elite officer, Sutekh Brylowe, and Colonel Tvaud is missing. We think that she is alive and that she is with Orion without her will. I come to you for guiding.” Loki cocked his head to the side.
“And why should I know where Orion Specter is?”
“Well, who knows him better than you, Dr. Beaker? Listen, I would not come to you but this thing, it is extremely sensitive. A Fae is dead—“
“To hell with your dead officer!” Following the outburst, everything went perfectly still. Loki’s face contorted to reveal the white hot fury of a man who had nothing left save the incessant echoes of a former life. Selket straightened in her chair. “Sita Tvaud is a very expensive piece of laboratory equipment and I am not just talking about money. The research involved! The man hours. The human capital. Have you any idea what lengths we had to go to? My wife died in agony before she could see this project completed. And Bella Goth! I needn’t remind you what a catastrophe that nearly turned out to be. Forty years worth of my sweat and blood are invested in this project. Much of Dr. Goth’s work with silt deposits in Arbormoor is lost forever. This technology is, in short, irreplaceable. So don't you dare talk to me about your losses. I don’t give a flying piss about your losses. There is nothing more important than getting that clone back to safety. Do you hear me? Nothing.” Loki banged his fist against the metal frame of his chair. Selket smoothed back fine wisps of her long black hair, undone by desert winds.
“Then you understand why I am here.” she said. Loki’s breathing slowed. His expression fell.
“That couldn't be further from the truth. What do you want from me, Ms. Redding?”
“I want to know what he is doing. Why would he take the girl? If we can know this, maybe they can be found.”
“Well, you might ask yourself that question. What is his impetus for anything that he does?"
"I don’t know. To confuse?"
"Ah ha. And how does he accomplish that? Misdirection? Lies? I find it a gross oversimplification to think of him simply as a liar. Orion Specter is not a liar. He molds his own truths. Don’t your holy texts teach you that at the beginning of time, the daemon Lotan approached his twin sister Lexis, who is the conduit of all truth, and breathed his own word past her lips? Since his banishment, Lotan has had only one goal behind everything that he does—To mix the universal truth with his own variant or, in a more theological sense, to be reunited with his most unfortunate sister.”
Selket took a moment to consider. It was true that this desire of his was described in Lexikos but even Orion would not act outside of his duty. What was he after in the short term?
“Do you think this kidnap is because of Lexis?” Selket asked. Loki drummed his fingertips on the cushion beneath him.
“Well yes and no. You see, I believe that he is so consumed by his need for Lexis that he has consciously or unconsciously come to believe that everyone feels a similar affinity for their siblings. And how could they not, to his mind? Lexis is all. I can’t even begin to count the number of times that I found myself inexplicably wanting to do my own sister harm while that boy was in my care. But regardless of his motives, what I am saying to you is that Orion would kidnap Sita only with the knowledge that Hyperion would not be far behind. Take the sister and the brother will follow.”
“You think he intends this? That Hyperion will follow?”
“That is correct.” Selket leaned forward and perched her chin in her hand, knitting her brow. Hyperion was in Riverblossom investigating an unrelated case involving a prominent Fae woman who had been attacked by a vampire. For a moment, Orion’s words surfaced to the forefront of her mind. “I was sent to put into motion events that would lead to the destruction of a vampire who threatens the sanctity of the Ib.” But the victim had been so certain that she had not been attacked by the Sheut.
“I don’t understand. What would he want with Hyperion?” Loki raised his head to look down upon her.
“I am afraid that my expertise ends there, Ms. Redding. And now, if it pleases you, get out of my house.”
Sun, November 29, 2074 7:37 pm- Ethelden Palace- Amhurst, Veronaville
Selket learned to navigate passages by tracing handprints along the wall, heeding individual currents of breath, listening for expired voices. The narrow halls that lead to Ahriman's study were heavily trafficked by Magi and students. All Selket needed was to follow the displaced pebbles at her feet. The names of each passing visitor were etched into the dust. With her eyes shut tight, there was no place that she could not find by trailing after those who had been before her.
But tonight, Selket was seeking out one former presence in particular and most exceptionally, she came up with nothing. There was not a whisper of the palace Subaltern. The sickly young woman kept close enough counsel with the Sheut to know what sorts of magic existed in the world. And for that reason she touched nothing, breathed little, faded into obscurity as needed. That had been Selket's first clue. If Imina Brylowe left a scarf in this study, then she meant to leave a scarf.
"Peace be with you, Mistress Redding." Selket opened her eyes. The room was bathed in light, sweetened by a pale smoke. Sand hissed as it slipped through the neck of an hourglass. Ahriman inclined his head towards her. "This is rather unexpected," he said placidly.
"But welcome, I hope." As she spoke, her voice trailed. Slowly, she looked to her left, feeling as though she were being watched.
The atmosphere was so congested with energy that Selket had not initially noticed Magus Rodin seated at the far end of the room. His copper eyes openly traced the contours of her body, appraising her as he might have done to a rooster before a cock fight. Selket turned her head away from him, pretending to take interest in the objects littered throughout the room. Rodin should have been divested weeks ago. But Selket rarely argued with Ahriman's judgement, even when she thought it to be impolitic.
"May I offer you a seat?" Ahriman asked. His voice was soft. His eyes, serene. Selket fidgeted, briefly torn between what she wanted and what she ought.
"Thank you but might we speak in private?" she said, passing a glance over her shoulder at Rodin. The Magus threw back his head and addressed Ahriman alone.
"Magister Templi, I don't think it terribly appropriate to let a woman-"
"Please," Ahriman interrupted, making a swooping gesture towards the door. Magus Rodin paused before gathering his satchel with a huff. As he exited the study, his robes brushed against Selket's shoulder. It was almost as though he meant to emphasize the bareness of her arms. But she knew that he wasn't quite so clever as that. Selket gathered her skirts and moved towards the desk.
"That boy is a hypocritical ass," she blurted, landing heavily on the cushion adjacent Ahriman. He raised his eyebrows only slightly.
"Selket..." he whispered. She leaned forward over the desk, pausing when Ahriman's posture stiffened. She had never known him to back away from anything as he did her proximity, curling in upon himself like a centipede. She clutched the edge of the desk, lowering her voice to a hiss.
"Why is he still here? You can't seriously intend to stuff him beneath your skirts and pray that the vampire Sheut doesn't reach him there," she chastised. Ahriman winced. If he were furious enough, the vampire would go through Ahriman to get to Rodin and not think twice.
"Well what would you have me do? Cast him to the wolves? He's my nephew." Selket waved her hands impatiently at the question.
"Send him to the colonies or something. Have him study at the monastery. Out of sight, out of mind."
"And if Imina chooses to go with him? We would be inviting the Sheut's anger. It's a risk, Selket. And a terrible one."
"So don't give her the choice!" The bookcases behind Ahriman quaked. In her annoyance, Selket had not meant to do that. She slumped low over the desk.
Hell rot Rodin Chi'en. If Ahriman wasn't careful, he would be hurt or worse-- scrutinized. And that was the last thing that either of them needed.
"Send him in secret. Send him while the vampire is away. Don't even give him time to pack. Just get him out. I know that you feel obligated to the boy but for the love of God, where are your limits? He's an idiot and a fornicator. He brought this upon himself. The fact that you did not simply dismiss him out of hand has people talking. If the vampire discovers that he is still a Magus, it will be an insult. Best case scenario would be that he lets Rodin alone but keeps a close eye on you. We walk a fine line, Magister Templi. And you bring too much attention to yourself by getting involved." Ahriman massaged his temples with his fingertips. To her, it seemed a sign of indecision. But she would press and press until his resolve gave way. She would not allow a fool like Rodin to bring down the greatest leader that the resistance had ever seen.
"I... Rodin cannot be replaced. None of the students are ready to be Magi. Most of them will never be ready. This problem is not a Gordian knot, Selket. We are, as they say, screwed," he murmured.
Selket knitted her brow, casting her eyes down into the grain of the wood beneath her hands. She was beginning to see the framework of God's great design, the extraordinary plexus of causal relations that snaked through eternity with gaping mouths seeking their own tails. Rodin was expendable because he needed to be.
"No," she said. "There is someone. He would need training but only a few months' worth. I think he would take Rodin's mantel if you offered it. But you will want to meet with him regardless. He is... exceptional. His name is Jack Dalton. He's a teenaged numbers runner for Addison London. I met with him. He has a field of magical energy that borders on divine. And he knows how to use it."Ahriman's face fell into disbelief.
"Come again?"
"I think he might be Orion Specter's son."
A palpable silence blanketed the room. Ahriman's usual sense of composure and decorum withered. Perhaps he thought that she had taken leave of her senses. Selket grabbed his hands.
"No matter what you think of me or what I've done-- No matter if you're stupid enough to keep Rodin Chi'en in your employ-- We need this boy on our side. He understands his magic intuitively. I've never seen anything like it. If we don't get to him first someone else will. Do you trust me?" Ahriman relaxed against the back of his chair. She had only ever asked that question of him once before and the answer had been yes then, even against all logic. Ahriman nodded.
"Rodin leaves tonight."
November 27, 2054 1:04 am- Vajra Maximum Security Penitentiary- Mantua, Veronaville (Twenty Years earlier)
"Hello, Magus." The room shook to the timbre of the prisoner's greeting. Selket froze, taken aback by this manifestation of his vigor. She had expected to find him more than half dead, bloated and festering like some tempest-tossed corpse. But as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, it became glaring apparent that he was nothing of the sort.
Selket stepped forward tentatively, her face falling into shadow. It was remarkable, really. The man that she had seen on the floor of this cell two weeks prior had been just a stone's throw away from the grave. She was certain that no one had been attempting to correct the situation and yet there he sat, healthy and even relatively clean.
"I do wish you would pick up the phone and give me a ring before popping 'round like this. If I'd known that I was having guests, I might have stuffed a roast in the oven. Fancy a G and T? I'll go get the pinocle deck." Selket's English was not colloquial enough to have understood about a third of what Orion was saying and she suspected that he knew as much. She shook her head and exhaled.
"I've come to ask you a favor," she said in her language. The daemon smiled, almost expectantly.
"Ask away."
"Tell me the truth about your purpose here."
Orion rose to his full height, at once magnificent and monstrous. Selket reminded herself that what she asked was no small token. She did not know what his orders from Deus Rex were. She did however know that whatever the task, they had enlisted a creature who was quite literally the father of lies. The truth was guarded.
Orion walked towards her and she held her ground. Smirking lasciviously, he wrapped his fingers around the bars.
"What will you give me in return?"
"I have the ability to let you out. And if you care about your mission, you will answer me honestly."
"Sorry, love. I only trade like for like. If you want me to reveal a truth to you, I must receive a truth in return. Else I will discover naught."
"I have nothing to hide."
"Oh don't you?"
Selket bowed her head, understanding what he wanted-- A truth that was in proportion to her with what his truth was to him. Orion reached for her face and she pushed him away.
"Don't touch me," she snapped.
"I could go back to sleep, if you like."
"You're vile."
"Am I to take that as a yes?"
Orion pivoted slightly and Selket grabbed at his sleeve. Her hand trembled, more from the thought of what she would have to do than from the act of touching him. The former Magister Templi recognized her potential and ordered her face covered before she learned to walk. She herself was not entirely certain of what she looked like beneath the veil. Her mother tied it each morning, painted and masked her. Selket was only ever handed a mirror after the chore was complete.
"This game is starting to bore me, Magus." Orion tugged his sleeve from her grasp. Selket pressed her forehead against the bars.
"How can I trust you?" she whispered.
"You can't."
She pulled away from the bars and ran her palms over her head. In one fell swoop, the many pins and scarves that held her together packed themselves neatly into the interior pockets of her robe. The paint washed from her face. Her hair tumbled down in smooth sheets.
She could not trust Orion but if the safety of the Ib was truly at stake then her choices were few. She was prepared to let him go if only he told her what she wanted to hear. She was prepared to be either right or wrong in doing so. She was prepared to defend her actions. In a few moments, there would be no going back.
Orion looked her in the eyes, far more directly than he had done a moment before. He was trying to make her feel vulnerable and it was working. The focus of his energy shifted. She did not know what to make of it.
"I underestimated you, Magus. I didn't think that you would do that," he said.
"Our bargain?"
"I was sent to put events into motion that would lead to the destruction of a vampire who threatens the sanctity of the Ib."
"The Sheut of Proximus Deus, you mean?"
"Ah. Yes. That. Maybe," he chuckled, inclining his head to the side. Selket rolled her eyes. Evidently, her collateral was spent. She ran her hands up the flaking bars, searching for an opening. Ahriman's matrix of enchantments was daunting but if she knew him, which she did, then the structure would not be without its weak points.
"Stand back," she cautioned. Orion leaned away but otherwise did not budge.
"Such talent. And you tuck it away from prying eyes just as proficiently as you cover your pretty face. You have surpassed him in your abilities, you know. He fears this from you. He is not stupid."
Selket's nostrils flared but she did not allow the daemon to distract her from her work. The strength of the encasement on the jail cell alone proved Ahriman's competence. Selket's careful ability to slip between the sinews and tear its fabric from the inside proved her mastery.
"We have a lot in common you and I," Orion rasped. "We exist behind great barriers of mystery." The bars sparked visibly. Selket let go by reflex. She had made a misstep. She began again, running her palms over imperceptible locks.
"I am a Magus," she said, drawing a firm, distinguishing line between herself and the man behind the iron. He smirked in response.
"Yes. And 'in your heart is a secret knowledge and on your tongue, an encrypted word.' My sister wrote many of the tomes you study. I could recite them for you verbatim. But even on a more basic level-- We ask ourselves the same questions, do we not? Our magic is but a mediocre imitation of His genius. It then becomes a debate of authenticity-- genuine achievement versus clever posturing. And if what we do is the latter with no chance of achieving the former then we are liars by our very nature." Here he paused to take a wheezing breath. Selket could hear the phlegm dividing in his chest. The bars rattled as the encasement bent to her will. Selket pursed her lips.
"I have no interest in your sophistry."
"Just making small talk." The doors gave way with a heavy clank and Orion skipped backwards as the magical barrier shattered.
With one final push, the door swung inward. For a moment, they only stared at each other across a threshold of open air. Selket knew from Ahriman that the man Orion Specter had spent his entire life in cages. She wondered how much of that was hardwired into the mind of the daemon who now stood before her-- If he was so accustomed to boundaries that he would not attempt to transverse them even in their absence.
Selket stepped into the gateway, thinking that she would need to pull him from the cell but he charged directly for her.
She ran backwards for a few paces but he caught her, seizing her by the arms. Her stomach lurched when she realized that she was outmatched both physically and magically. He could lay her to waste right there.
"Now here's where the fun begins. You've just off-set a silent alarm. The guards will be here in less than three minutes. I am going to leave by way of the southwest passage and stow away on the 2:10 train to Kings Contrivance with a final destination of Millhaven, Pleasantview. You will know all of this but you will tell the officers under threat of torture that you sent me on the ferry to Kent. The coast guard will overtake the ferry. I will be halfway to Lanceshire. And you may want to get used to this whole bare-faced thing you have going on here because the Magister Templi is going to be pissed. Luckily though, it's a good look for you. Really brings out your eyes. And your nose. And your lips.
Where was I? Oh, right. Divestment. You'll be divested. Ahriman will tell everyone you're a fornicator since no one really knows that I'm here or what-all I am in any case and that will serve as his justification. He will feel comfortable in his lie because you're going to tell him that you came back to see me because you were fascinated by my very existence and when he senses little bits of my energy tangled up in yours, he's going to assume that you're a fornicator anyway. Then you're going to say that you let me out because it would have been cruel to let me die. Are you with me so far?"
Orion grabbed her waist with one hand and her wrist with the other. Her body involuntarily lurched to meet his. For an instant, she was swept into the folds of his life force, not lost but enveloped entirely. From this vantage point, she could see the entire anatomy of his soul. There was the smokeless flame and here were its crimson wings.
"This is my contribution but you don't get to keep it. It's unstable." With that, he delivered a jolt of energy so strong that she seized. White hot tendrils of electricity surged through her, wiping her mind clear of all thought.
Orion pulled her in close. As her sense of reality returned, she became very acutely aware of her own heartbeat and the fact that he was controlling it. He had dangled her at the cusp of death and was now reeling her back in. Even as her body stopped shaking and the pressure in her head equalized, her awareness broke away. Selket was an outside observer to everything that she might have previously deemed self. Her consciousness was a double-sided mirror. She closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to free herself of sensations that went beyond the realm of normal human experience.
"I don't understand." She had not meant to say it aloud. Orion stroked her hair and whispered in her ear.
"You are not here for you have risen."
