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.
Showing posts with label Ahriman Chi'en. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ahriman Chi'en. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Monday, June 13, 2011
Chapter 85: Mariel Has The One Thing To Say
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.
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.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Chapter 61: Selket Tears The Fabric
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."
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."
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Chapter 50: Selket Receives More Than A Message
Tues, November 24, 2074 6:31 pm: Ethelden Palace- Amhurst, Veronaville
She could go no farther. A cold and all-consuming energy terminated directly in front of Selket's face, barring the way. It permeated the skin at the tip of her nose and tugged on the hem of her gown. It was divine energy but with movement and boundaries- A living wall that Selket dared not transverse. It churned like the silt in a gold miner's tin.
"What are you waiting for, Auntie?" Maya locked arms with Selket, prodding her forward. Selket stared wide-eyed and speechless. She was not waiting for anything. She was meant to observe and leave. She didn't need to see the creature in her brother's office if she could sense him from where she stood. She had come to her purpose. Maya rolled her eyes and reached for the doorknob but the door flew open before she'd achieved a firm hold.
Selket averted her gaze instinctively. She focused instead on the winding curves and sharp folds of her niece's right ear while Maya herself looked the creature dead in the eye.
"Good evening. I'm Jack Dalton, Pleasantview Grocery Delivery Services." His tone was cordially upbeat. He extended a hand for Maya to shake and then quickly revoked it, remembering that he was not to touch a lady unbidden. Selket hazarded a glance at his face.
He was young and human to the marrow. The air around him shimmered just faintly. His being was essentially new but his magic was as old as creation. And Selket stood shrouded beneath its diaphanous wings.
"Good evening. I am Maya Redding, Daughter of Atum and this is my aunt Selket Redding, Daughter of Kama." Maya's English was formal and heavily accented. She took Selket's elbow with both hands, forcibly leading her into the lion's den.
Jack brought his heels together sharply and bowed at the waist, allowing them to pass. From what Selket could tell, the boy-creature had learned fae manners by watching the palace guards.
"Ah, there you are," Atum said, peeking at Selket from behind the lamp on his desk. "I was beginning to think that my invitation had gotten lost in the ether. Sit down, the two of you. Can I offer you a drink?" The question never reached Maya, who was staring transfixed at the boy-creature. Selket shook her head slowly, giving her brother a slight smile. She had brought Maya along thinking that her beauty would be a sufficient distraction for the visitor while Selket investigated his energy but she had not considered the possibility that Maya might find the visitor distracting.
Maya glided through her father's office and sat on the long row of cushions adjacent to his desk. The room fell into silence as Maya adjusted her skirts discreetly. The creature did not stir and Selket sensed that he was looking rather intently at her. She cleared her mind completely, repelling him.
Having spent half of her life behind a veil, Selket was used to being gawked at. But she could live with those stares. Those had always been the result of either wonderment at the appearance of a Covered Lady or lust born of speculation about what woman could be so tempting that she would need to be hidden. It wasn't personal.
But that was many years ago and Selket was naked to the world now. Jack could not have known how his stare smoldered inside of her like live coals but that did not stop it from burning. And she could not forgive him that.
"Varil marev ur-plache, kiena." Atum directed Selket with a swooping wave of his hand and her concentration was broken. She did not know how long she had been standing there.
Selket extended her hand to Jack as she took a seat and he accepted it gratefully. She then tossed the fabric of her skirt around, using it as a pretense for needing Jack to help her onto the cushions. Really, she was only hoping to make contact so that she might have a better look into his thoughts and essence. She discovered, not surprisingly, that he was impassible.
"Daddy, whenever did you get that freakish painting," Maya asked, giggling airily. Maya was as always, a universe unto herself, not at all interested in what went on around her. Selket and Jack looked upwards disinterestedly.
The painting in question was odd to say the least. It featured a hyper-realistic place setting with a cartoon pig wallowing in something that might have been sauce or mud or worse in a soup bowl. Mahadeva will have his little jokes.
"Not too long ago. I commissioned the Artist in Residence to do a still-life for the office and well, he gave me one."
"Does it have a title," Jack asked, peering at the thing with his head cocked to the side.
"Yes, but I'm afraid that it does not translate into English well." Selket turned to Jack, eager to get the conversation away from the vampire Sheut.
"So what brings you to Veronaville, Mr. Dalton? You work for Addison London, yes?"
"Yes. Well, I'm his foster son. He asks me to run small errands for him at times. I'm just here delivering a letter."
"Do you know what the contents of that letter were," Atum asked. Jack snorted, evidently unconcerned.
"I'm certain that I don't," Jack said. Atum leaned forward across his desk.
"It said, 'Ni tiella ken-balth.' Do you know what that means?" Jack shook his head and Atum continued. "It means, 'Don't shoot the messenger.'"
Jack crossed his legs at the ankles and narrowed his eyes. Though he was looking at Atum, his expression did not seem entirely meant for him.
"London means himself, you realize. He's the messenger. I haven't really brought you anything. Trust me on this. I know how he thinks. I'm the message."
"And are you good news or bad, Mr. Dalton," Selket asked. Jack raised his eyebrows, slowly tilting his head towards her.
"That depends on your interpretation. I was sent, I'm sure, because I can do this." Jack flicked his left hand in Atum's direction, thereby causing his entire desk to rise up from the floor. Atum fretfully pushed his chair back towards the wall as though he feared that his desk posed a threat. Jack carefully lowered the desk. "But I suspect you knew that considering the number of times that you've tried to pick me apart in the past few minutes," he added bitterly. Atum wheeled his chair back over to his desk.
"Who taught you to do that," he asked, straightening the pens that had rolled under his keyboard and trying to seem casual.
"I'm self-taught. Why?" Jack was easing himself into the corner and Selket could see by the look on his face that he realized the unusualness of what he was saying.
"But how did you know how to summon your energy? Or how to focus and sustain it," Maya asked, lazily kicking her feet and smiling like a child enthralled by a game.
"I intuit it. I make mistakes sometimes but for the most part, it just comes as second nature."
When Jack spoke, he looked to Selket as though he were speaking to her alone. She didn't know what it was about her that was forcing him to cling to her so but she wished that he wouldn't.
"There's something else that I should probably show you," he said quietly. "But don't be alarmed. It's not dangerous, as far as I can tell." Atum nodded permissively and Jack stood. Breathing in deeply, the boy-creature closed his eyes. When he re-opened them, the room was flooding with light.
It was like nothing that Selket could find the words to describe. There were great clouds of color moving in all directions. It was like sitting at the heart of Aurora Borealis. Selket's eyes brimmed over with tears but whether it was the brightness or from emotion, she could not say. She knew that she was seeing something that she was never meant to. She was seeing what heaven sees.
"What is it," Maya asked excitedly.
"It's energy. All of the energy in the room. I realized a few weeks ago that there had to be a way to make it actually, physically visible. This is it."
And sure enough, he was right. There were Atum's white lights and Maya's blue. There was Selket's own pink. And at the heart of it was a cold and smokeless flame. Selket's throat constricted painfully. She had forgotten how to breathe. This was fire that she knew and fire that she would not soon forget. She had given-up her communion with God to protect this fire. By it, she was forever unmasked.
Jack extinguished the lights in a fraction of a second. Atum rubbed his eyes.
"So what do you think," Jack said softly, bearing down upon her more now than ever. Selket found the bravery to meet his stare. He looked nothing like what she might have imagined but he could be no other. If she cried now, there would be no question about whether or not it was to do with emotion. His very existence gave her hope and vindicated her crimes. He was ever so much more than a message. He was a gift.
"I think I know what you are," Selket replied huskily.
November 20, 2054 8:25 am: Vajra Maximum Security Penitentiary- Mantua, Veronaville (Twenty Years earlier)
"Keep up, Selket! I do not wish to lose you," Ahriman called. His voice bounced off of the sandstone walls, onward into infinity. Selket followed the trail of its lingering vibrations but she could have found him just as easily in silence. Such was her sensitivity for distinguishing magical energies.
Selket padded down the corridor on the soft leather soles of her slippers. Sometimes she knew that she must look like a well-trained dog, dashing after him the way that she did. But she did not mind feeling foolish for his sake. He was a genius, the first halfling in recorded history to be named Magister Templi. If Selket needed only to run to stand by his side then she would gladly run.
Selket found him at the end of a narrow colonnade. His expression was grave. He whispered when he spoke.
"If the prisoner addresses you, do not engage him. He will try to confuse you. Ignore anything he says that does not answer your questions."
"What prisoner," Selket asked, looking around. The room was empty.
Ahriman turned his head to the blank wall in front of them and at once it fell away like plunging drapery. Behind it was a small jail cell and all at once, Selket was assaulted by a freezing, violently sparking energy. She was in the wake of something terrible.
The prisoner's breath rattled inside his chest and each time he inhaled, Selket got a clear view of his ribcage. His sunken cheeks blushed to a pale shade of jaundice. His shoulders shook. He was dying.
Despite the nagging in her brain that warned her against it, Selket drew nearer to the bars. She did not know how to curb her desire to help someone in suffering nor did she want to. The incarcerated man lifted his head and released a monstrous growl.
"Come any closer and I will turn that pretty face of yours inside out," he snapped. Selket gasped and took a step back. The prisoner's eyes gleamed from orange to brown as he spoke, fading like autumn leaves.
"He's bluffing. He has no power here," Ahriman said soothingly. The prisoner did not confirm or deny Ahriman's statement but stared angrily at the pair of them. He pushed himself up from the floor on unsteady limbs. Ahriman watched him in quiet awe.
"His name is Orion Specter," Ahriman explained, shooting a quick glance at Selket. "He is twenty-six years old. His parents were Olive and Ichabod Specter of LaPlatta, Strangetown. His father died shortly before he was born and his mother sent him off to the LaPlatta Orphanage. He was adopted at the age of six by Circe and Loki Beaker, a pair of scientists who specialized in the paranormal. You can see why little Orion might have interested them."
Orion leaned his weight against the bars and took a foothold on one of the lower rails. He bent his left knee, balancing on one leg like a stork. Selket thought he might be injured.
"How do you know all of this," she asked quietly.
"I was granted an interview with Loki Beaker a few nights ago. Between what he was able to tell me, what Orion himself has told me and the legal documents that I have managed to procure, his life story has not been difficult to piece together. The Beakers kept him locked in their basement for the majority of his life. Their friends and family had no knowledge of his existence. According to Loki, he was a nervous, docile and mentally handicapped boy right up until two weeks ago when Circe found him in his room tattooing himself. He used sewing needles and several ballpoint pens to do the work. The Beakers could not explain how he had gotten hold of these items. Do you recognize his markings, Magus?"
Selket's eyes roamed over the tattoo that consumed almost half of Orion's emaciated frame. She could make out the head of a swan, the body of a snake and some sort of foliage but the symbolism, if there was any, was lost on her. She shook her head.
"This was the tattoo worn by fae soldiers in the at the battle of Arbormoor."
"Why does he wear it?"
"Your guess is as good as mine. But to continue, Orion spent the days that followed mumbling to himself and rearranging the basement furniture. Then on the afternoon of the twelfth, he broke free of the basement, killed Circe Beaker and set fire to the house. Loki and his son were out shopping when the events unfolded. It took thirty-three human and fae special operatives to restrain him. I was called upon to create the magical wards that bind him. When I asked him what he was, he said that he would speak with no one but you."
"He knew me by name?"
"He did."
Selket cautiously approached the bars and Ahriman placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her. She delicately brushed him away. She would not pretend that her heart was not pounding, that her sides were not sweating, that her entire body was not trembling but she would confront the prisoner in spite of these things. Orion rolled his head on his shoulders as if stretching and Selket heard his voice echoing in her thoughts.
Welcome, Magus. I am Lotan, He Who Twists.
Orion was now dangling from the bars, supported only by his skeletal arms. Selket shivered beneath her many layers of clothing. This man, this creature was a daemon. And an old one. She focused her thoughts.
How is it that you came to inhabit a human body, she asked. Orion growled audibly.
Estanatlehi gave me body and Samael gave me breath. As if to demonstrate the latter, Orion breathed in deep. Selket took another step closer.
You were dormant in this body for many years. What summoned you? The creature bowed his head thoughtfully and the tip of his hair brushed the bars.
Duty.
Duty to whom? Selket's inquiry was met with silence. The daemon dropped down from the bars. His eyes flashed in warning but Selket pressed on. What is your purpose? Orion laughed mirthlessly. His teeth were unusually sharp and flat.
"My purpose? Good lady, I am a hunter! Here is my quiver," he said, slapping his tattooed flank. "And here is my bow."
With that, his entire torso burst into flames. Selket screamed and Ahriman pulled her behind him. In the confusion, Selket failed to notice that the flames gave no heat or smoke or even scent. Clinging to Ahriman's robes, Selket was not convinced that Orion's magic was impaired in his cell. She placed a hand over her mouth, through the beaded veil that branded the women of her calling.
"And what do you hunt, Mr. Specter," Ahriman asked sternly. Orion's lips curled.
"Wolves. Devils. Filth," he spat. "I seek the vampire with the life force of a Sheut. He will corrupt the Ib and the world will fall into ruin. Your choice is simple, Magister Templi. Let me go or hell rot you all."
Selket peered at Orion over Ahriman's shoulder, shaking uncontrollably. She was desperate to master her fear and conduct herself like a Magus but there was nothing that she could do to still her body. Their situation was dire if things had come to this. By sending an assassin, Deus Rex was making one last ditch attempt to fix the vampire Sheut, proving to Selket that he was not only imperfect but profane. It was the will of God to see Kvornan Tricou eliminated. And fate had enlisted Selket's help.
She could go no farther. A cold and all-consuming energy terminated directly in front of Selket's face, barring the way. It permeated the skin at the tip of her nose and tugged on the hem of her gown. It was divine energy but with movement and boundaries- A living wall that Selket dared not transverse. It churned like the silt in a gold miner's tin.
"What are you waiting for, Auntie?" Maya locked arms with Selket, prodding her forward. Selket stared wide-eyed and speechless. She was not waiting for anything. She was meant to observe and leave. She didn't need to see the creature in her brother's office if she could sense him from where she stood. She had come to her purpose. Maya rolled her eyes and reached for the doorknob but the door flew open before she'd achieved a firm hold.
Selket averted her gaze instinctively. She focused instead on the winding curves and sharp folds of her niece's right ear while Maya herself looked the creature dead in the eye.
"Good evening. I'm Jack Dalton, Pleasantview Grocery Delivery Services." His tone was cordially upbeat. He extended a hand for Maya to shake and then quickly revoked it, remembering that he was not to touch a lady unbidden. Selket hazarded a glance at his face.
He was young and human to the marrow. The air around him shimmered just faintly. His being was essentially new but his magic was as old as creation. And Selket stood shrouded beneath its diaphanous wings.
"Good evening. I am Maya Redding, Daughter of Atum and this is my aunt Selket Redding, Daughter of Kama." Maya's English was formal and heavily accented. She took Selket's elbow with both hands, forcibly leading her into the lion's den.
Jack brought his heels together sharply and bowed at the waist, allowing them to pass. From what Selket could tell, the boy-creature had learned fae manners by watching the palace guards.
"Ah, there you are," Atum said, peeking at Selket from behind the lamp on his desk. "I was beginning to think that my invitation had gotten lost in the ether. Sit down, the two of you. Can I offer you a drink?" The question never reached Maya, who was staring transfixed at the boy-creature. Selket shook her head slowly, giving her brother a slight smile. She had brought Maya along thinking that her beauty would be a sufficient distraction for the visitor while Selket investigated his energy but she had not considered the possibility that Maya might find the visitor distracting.
Maya glided through her father's office and sat on the long row of cushions adjacent to his desk. The room fell into silence as Maya adjusted her skirts discreetly. The creature did not stir and Selket sensed that he was looking rather intently at her. She cleared her mind completely, repelling him.
Having spent half of her life behind a veil, Selket was used to being gawked at. But she could live with those stares. Those had always been the result of either wonderment at the appearance of a Covered Lady or lust born of speculation about what woman could be so tempting that she would need to be hidden. It wasn't personal.
But that was many years ago and Selket was naked to the world now. Jack could not have known how his stare smoldered inside of her like live coals but that did not stop it from burning. And she could not forgive him that.
"Varil marev ur-plache, kiena." Atum directed Selket with a swooping wave of his hand and her concentration was broken. She did not know how long she had been standing there.
Selket extended her hand to Jack as she took a seat and he accepted it gratefully. She then tossed the fabric of her skirt around, using it as a pretense for needing Jack to help her onto the cushions. Really, she was only hoping to make contact so that she might have a better look into his thoughts and essence. She discovered, not surprisingly, that he was impassible.
"Daddy, whenever did you get that freakish painting," Maya asked, giggling airily. Maya was as always, a universe unto herself, not at all interested in what went on around her. Selket and Jack looked upwards disinterestedly.
The painting in question was odd to say the least. It featured a hyper-realistic place setting with a cartoon pig wallowing in something that might have been sauce or mud or worse in a soup bowl. Mahadeva will have his little jokes.
"Not too long ago. I commissioned the Artist in Residence to do a still-life for the office and well, he gave me one."
"Does it have a title," Jack asked, peering at the thing with his head cocked to the side.
"Yes, but I'm afraid that it does not translate into English well." Selket turned to Jack, eager to get the conversation away from the vampire Sheut.
"So what brings you to Veronaville, Mr. Dalton? You work for Addison London, yes?"
"Yes. Well, I'm his foster son. He asks me to run small errands for him at times. I'm just here delivering a letter."
"Do you know what the contents of that letter were," Atum asked. Jack snorted, evidently unconcerned.
"I'm certain that I don't," Jack said. Atum leaned forward across his desk.
"It said, 'Ni tiella ken-balth.' Do you know what that means?" Jack shook his head and Atum continued. "It means, 'Don't shoot the messenger.'"
Jack crossed his legs at the ankles and narrowed his eyes. Though he was looking at Atum, his expression did not seem entirely meant for him.
"London means himself, you realize. He's the messenger. I haven't really brought you anything. Trust me on this. I know how he thinks. I'm the message."
"And are you good news or bad, Mr. Dalton," Selket asked. Jack raised his eyebrows, slowly tilting his head towards her.
"That depends on your interpretation. I was sent, I'm sure, because I can do this." Jack flicked his left hand in Atum's direction, thereby causing his entire desk to rise up from the floor. Atum fretfully pushed his chair back towards the wall as though he feared that his desk posed a threat. Jack carefully lowered the desk. "But I suspect you knew that considering the number of times that you've tried to pick me apart in the past few minutes," he added bitterly. Atum wheeled his chair back over to his desk.
"Who taught you to do that," he asked, straightening the pens that had rolled under his keyboard and trying to seem casual.
"I'm self-taught. Why?" Jack was easing himself into the corner and Selket could see by the look on his face that he realized the unusualness of what he was saying.
"But how did you know how to summon your energy? Or how to focus and sustain it," Maya asked, lazily kicking her feet and smiling like a child enthralled by a game.
"I intuit it. I make mistakes sometimes but for the most part, it just comes as second nature."
When Jack spoke, he looked to Selket as though he were speaking to her alone. She didn't know what it was about her that was forcing him to cling to her so but she wished that he wouldn't.
"There's something else that I should probably show you," he said quietly. "But don't be alarmed. It's not dangerous, as far as I can tell." Atum nodded permissively and Jack stood. Breathing in deeply, the boy-creature closed his eyes. When he re-opened them, the room was flooding with light.
It was like nothing that Selket could find the words to describe. There were great clouds of color moving in all directions. It was like sitting at the heart of Aurora Borealis. Selket's eyes brimmed over with tears but whether it was the brightness or from emotion, she could not say. She knew that she was seeing something that she was never meant to. She was seeing what heaven sees.
"What is it," Maya asked excitedly.
"It's energy. All of the energy in the room. I realized a few weeks ago that there had to be a way to make it actually, physically visible. This is it."
And sure enough, he was right. There were Atum's white lights and Maya's blue. There was Selket's own pink. And at the heart of it was a cold and smokeless flame. Selket's throat constricted painfully. She had forgotten how to breathe. This was fire that she knew and fire that she would not soon forget. She had given-up her communion with God to protect this fire. By it, she was forever unmasked.
Jack extinguished the lights in a fraction of a second. Atum rubbed his eyes.
"So what do you think," Jack said softly, bearing down upon her more now than ever. Selket found the bravery to meet his stare. He looked nothing like what she might have imagined but he could be no other. If she cried now, there would be no question about whether or not it was to do with emotion. His very existence gave her hope and vindicated her crimes. He was ever so much more than a message. He was a gift.
"I think I know what you are," Selket replied huskily.
November 20, 2054 8:25 am: Vajra Maximum Security Penitentiary- Mantua, Veronaville (Twenty Years earlier)
"Keep up, Selket! I do not wish to lose you," Ahriman called. His voice bounced off of the sandstone walls, onward into infinity. Selket followed the trail of its lingering vibrations but she could have found him just as easily in silence. Such was her sensitivity for distinguishing magical energies.
Selket padded down the corridor on the soft leather soles of her slippers. Sometimes she knew that she must look like a well-trained dog, dashing after him the way that she did. But she did not mind feeling foolish for his sake. He was a genius, the first halfling in recorded history to be named Magister Templi. If Selket needed only to run to stand by his side then she would gladly run.
Selket found him at the end of a narrow colonnade. His expression was grave. He whispered when he spoke.
"If the prisoner addresses you, do not engage him. He will try to confuse you. Ignore anything he says that does not answer your questions."
"What prisoner," Selket asked, looking around. The room was empty.
Ahriman turned his head to the blank wall in front of them and at once it fell away like plunging drapery. Behind it was a small jail cell and all at once, Selket was assaulted by a freezing, violently sparking energy. She was in the wake of something terrible.
The prisoner's breath rattled inside his chest and each time he inhaled, Selket got a clear view of his ribcage. His sunken cheeks blushed to a pale shade of jaundice. His shoulders shook. He was dying.
Despite the nagging in her brain that warned her against it, Selket drew nearer to the bars. She did not know how to curb her desire to help someone in suffering nor did she want to. The incarcerated man lifted his head and released a monstrous growl.
"Come any closer and I will turn that pretty face of yours inside out," he snapped. Selket gasped and took a step back. The prisoner's eyes gleamed from orange to brown as he spoke, fading like autumn leaves.
"He's bluffing. He has no power here," Ahriman said soothingly. The prisoner did not confirm or deny Ahriman's statement but stared angrily at the pair of them. He pushed himself up from the floor on unsteady limbs. Ahriman watched him in quiet awe.
"His name is Orion Specter," Ahriman explained, shooting a quick glance at Selket. "He is twenty-six years old. His parents were Olive and Ichabod Specter of LaPlatta, Strangetown. His father died shortly before he was born and his mother sent him off to the LaPlatta Orphanage. He was adopted at the age of six by Circe and Loki Beaker, a pair of scientists who specialized in the paranormal. You can see why little Orion might have interested them."
Orion leaned his weight against the bars and took a foothold on one of the lower rails. He bent his left knee, balancing on one leg like a stork. Selket thought he might be injured.
"How do you know all of this," she asked quietly.
"I was granted an interview with Loki Beaker a few nights ago. Between what he was able to tell me, what Orion himself has told me and the legal documents that I have managed to procure, his life story has not been difficult to piece together. The Beakers kept him locked in their basement for the majority of his life. Their friends and family had no knowledge of his existence. According to Loki, he was a nervous, docile and mentally handicapped boy right up until two weeks ago when Circe found him in his room tattooing himself. He used sewing needles and several ballpoint pens to do the work. The Beakers could not explain how he had gotten hold of these items. Do you recognize his markings, Magus?"
Selket's eyes roamed over the tattoo that consumed almost half of Orion's emaciated frame. She could make out the head of a swan, the body of a snake and some sort of foliage but the symbolism, if there was any, was lost on her. She shook her head.
"This was the tattoo worn by fae soldiers in the at the battle of Arbormoor."
"Why does he wear it?"
"Your guess is as good as mine. But to continue, Orion spent the days that followed mumbling to himself and rearranging the basement furniture. Then on the afternoon of the twelfth, he broke free of the basement, killed Circe Beaker and set fire to the house. Loki and his son were out shopping when the events unfolded. It took thirty-three human and fae special operatives to restrain him. I was called upon to create the magical wards that bind him. When I asked him what he was, he said that he would speak with no one but you."
"He knew me by name?"
"He did."
Selket cautiously approached the bars and Ahriman placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her. She delicately brushed him away. She would not pretend that her heart was not pounding, that her sides were not sweating, that her entire body was not trembling but she would confront the prisoner in spite of these things. Orion rolled his head on his shoulders as if stretching and Selket heard his voice echoing in her thoughts.
Welcome, Magus. I am Lotan, He Who Twists.
Orion was now dangling from the bars, supported only by his skeletal arms. Selket shivered beneath her many layers of clothing. This man, this creature was a daemon. And an old one. She focused her thoughts.
How is it that you came to inhabit a human body, she asked. Orion growled audibly.
Estanatlehi gave me body and Samael gave me breath. As if to demonstrate the latter, Orion breathed in deep. Selket took another step closer.
You were dormant in this body for many years. What summoned you? The creature bowed his head thoughtfully and the tip of his hair brushed the bars.
Duty.
Duty to whom? Selket's inquiry was met with silence. The daemon dropped down from the bars. His eyes flashed in warning but Selket pressed on. What is your purpose? Orion laughed mirthlessly. His teeth were unusually sharp and flat.
"My purpose? Good lady, I am a hunter! Here is my quiver," he said, slapping his tattooed flank. "And here is my bow."
With that, his entire torso burst into flames. Selket screamed and Ahriman pulled her behind him. In the confusion, Selket failed to notice that the flames gave no heat or smoke or even scent. Clinging to Ahriman's robes, Selket was not convinced that Orion's magic was impaired in his cell. She placed a hand over her mouth, through the beaded veil that branded the women of her calling.
"And what do you hunt, Mr. Specter," Ahriman asked sternly. Orion's lips curled.
"Wolves. Devils. Filth," he spat. "I seek the vampire with the life force of a Sheut. He will corrupt the Ib and the world will fall into ruin. Your choice is simple, Magister Templi. Let me go or hell rot you all."
Selket peered at Orion over Ahriman's shoulder, shaking uncontrollably. She was desperate to master her fear and conduct herself like a Magus but there was nothing that she could do to still her body. Their situation was dire if things had come to this. By sending an assassin, Deus Rex was making one last ditch attempt to fix the vampire Sheut, proving to Selket that he was not only imperfect but profane. It was the will of God to see Kvornan Tricou eliminated. And fate had enlisted Selket's help.
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