I put the second orb into my jacket pocket. There would be plenty of time learn more about the ORC’s themselves later on.
I held the first orb, the one from the mole, in my hand and spoke the password. “Betsy.”
Immediately, I felt like I was swept up in a vortex of swirling colors, like being inside of a kaleidoscope that was being adjusted by an over-excited 5 year old child. I suppose it would have been quiet disorienting if I had a stomach to empty, but that wasn’t a concern for me. Instead, I relaxed and let the images sort themselves out. It didn’t take very long.
The image coalesced into a view from the back seat of older taxi cab. The tinny sounds of Indian music played in the background. I could make out the back of the purple turban-covered head of the driver of the cab, a bearded Sikh man of middling years.
The cab was moving, but it was dark outside, so the passing images were the neon signs of fast food restaurants, gas stations and convenience stores that could be found on the outskirts of nearly every American town or city.
I tried to focus on details that might give me a better clue as to where the cab was, but I found that I was constrained to the view of the person who had made the orb itself. The images and sounds that the maker of the orb saw and heard were the only images and sounds that came through on this recording. Again, rather than fight the frustration of such a limited view of events, I sat back and relaxed, content to see and hear what the mole was able to show me.
The cabbie’s head bobbed to the rhythms of the music coming from his cassette deck. The mole, however, was only cursorily interested in him. The image kept shifting from the windshield ahead to the piece of paper in the mole’s rough fingers. An address and a phone number showed on the paper: 25343 Covington Way and 555-9832.
The mole glanced back up to the display on the dashboard showing fare adding up. $19.51.
“Hey up, how much further?” The voice of the mole was loud and deep.
The cabbie looked back at the mole in the mirror as he responded. “Not much further, Sir. You get where you go when Gurmeet drive you, no funny business, OK?”
When Gurmeet turned his attention back to the road, the mole caught a small glimpse of his own face in the mirror. It was a rough, masculine face. It was the face of a man who faced many hard times in his life and had overcome those challenges through sheer force of will and more than a little dishonesty. I had seen similar looks on the faces of hundreds of perpetrators that I had arrested as a cop. The icy blue eyes were framed by a prominent brow ridge that sported bushy blonde eyebrows. The nose was on the long side, with a slight hook to the right (left because of the mirror?). His thin lips were firmly pursed in a look of not-so-slight anger or agitation. His upper lip and cheeks showed the stubble of a couple of days gone without shaving, but the stubble wasn’t long enough to hide the long, puckered scar that ran from the left corner of his mouth almost all of the way to his ear. His skin also showed several pock marks from a history of terrible acne or some other skin disease.
Seeing his reflection in the mirror seemed to irritate the man even further, as his mouth twitched in anger as looked back at the tolling meter. $22.27.
“You told me the fare would be no more than $25. I’m going to hold you to that, Gurmeet.”
Gurmeet bobbed his head and chirped out a polite answer. “Yes, Sir, that is the price I quoted. You no pay more.”
The image bobbed as the mole nodded his agreement and grunted in response. He looked down to the paper in his hand one more time and watched as he crumpled it up and tossed it to the floor of the cab.
“Sir, we are pulling up now.”
Good to his word, Gurmeet had the left turn signal on and was cranking hard on the wheel to pull the cab into the unlit driveway of a large McMansion nestled in amongst its nearly identical fellows in an otherwise unremarkable suburban community.
The cab stopped on the sloped driveway. Gurmeet got out of the cab and opened the passenger door behind him. “You see, Gurmeet knows stuff. That will be $24.78, please.”
The mole got up out of the cab, grabbing his small, worn backpack with his right hand. With his left hand he pulled out the two bills that were in his pants pocket. “Here, keep the change, and buy yourself a new air freshener, will you?” The mole easily stood six inches taller than Gurmeet, who did not appear to be a small man himself.
Gurmeet looked down at the crumpled up twenties in his hand and nodded eagerly. “Thank you, Good Sir. Here is my card. You call me direct if you need a ride back to the airport. I give you good deal, OK?”
The mole nodded and grunted. “Sure. Good night, pal.”
The mole watched from the sidewalk as Gurmeet slammed his door shut and jumped back into the front. With a friendly wave, Gurmeet back out of the driveway and sped off back in the direction of the airport. The wailing of the sitars and the female singing her cries of long lost love dwindling into the night as the cab turned from Covington Way back towards the main road.
The mole hoisted his backpack onto his left shoulder, glanced at the address plate next to the double door and began walking around the side to the back door.
With the music from the cab now gone, the night air was quiet. As with all of the homes nearby, the yard was perfectly manicured, with the grass mowed to the standardized golf course length and the bushes and hedges all trimmed to look neat and uniform. There were a number of smaller trees scattered throughout the yards, but they were still too young to stand on their own. This was clearly a recent development. Many of the houses looked to still be unoccupied.
The mole made his way to the elevated back deck of the huge house. The sounds of his heavy boots thumping on the wooden steps seemed loud, but he didn’t hesitate. He tromped up to the sliding glass door and tested it to see if it was open. Once he discovered that it was locked, he tried to peer inside, but the darkness inside the home was even deeper than night outside. Grunting again, he rapped loudly on the glass with his right hand, a thick ring on his ring finger making the loudest crack on the glass.
At first nothing happened. Then a face appeared just inside the glass door, almost as if by magick. It was a thin face of a woman who had seen almost as many hard times as the mole. She looked him up and down, eyes darting back and forth as she seemed to be watching for others as well. Finally a pale hand emerged from the darkness beneath her face and clicked the lock on the door. She nodded towards the handle on the door before both hand and face evaporated back into the inky darkness inside.
He opened the door and slipped inside the home, also glancing back to make sure that he was alone and unseen.
The image from the orb went completely dark, like I experienced when calling the Shadow to use it for travel from place to place.
When the image returned, it was quite clear that the mole was not standing inside the dining room of a suburban McMansion, but was now inside a worn out industrial warehouse of some sort. The light came from flickering fluorescent bulbs swaying in a stiff breeze. Puddles of water reflected that dim light, echoing with the drips of more water that also came from above.
The thin woman stood in a plain blue jumpsuit and boots, her frazzled hair framing her anemic looking face. Her arms were crossed as if she had been waiting impatiently. She was alone in the large, abandoned looking room.
Her sharp, nasal voice cut through the air as she spoke. “Name?”
The mole looked her up and down, glanced about the room. His eyes took in the darkened doorways and halls leading from this rather large, empty room. “Nick, Nicholas Kolkiwiecz. Who’re you?”
“You may call me Rose. State your purpose here.”
The mole shrugged. “Look, I heard that this was the place to come if you have certain talents and are looking for work. I sure as Hell hope that I’m in the right damn place or I’m going to make someone pay for my trip out here. I need work, not extra expenses.”
Rose didn’t look all that impressed. She uncrossed her arms and took a couple of steps towards Nick. Her head titled slightly to the left and down as she spoke, a sly smile creeping over her plain, drawn face. Her eyes were perhaps her only attractive feature, as they were large, almond shaped and brown. The rest of her face was pale to the point of being almost sickly. Her thin eyebrows had been drawn in after having been shaved, plucked or waxed clean. Her nose was long and thin, ending in two flaring nostrils that showed the redness of a drug addict while her lips were thin and colorless. Her cheekbones nearly protruded through her pale skin.
“You’re in the right place if you are looking for work, but I need to make sure that you have the talent to make it worth the while of my masters for you to speak with them. What talents do you bring to this party, Nick?”
Her lips pulled back as she smiled. Her teeth glittered and gleamed in the dim light, reflecting off of the silver and gems that were set in them. Her canines were the most modified, having been lengthened and given a fang-like sharpness to them.
Nick nodded, standing his ground. “Good enough. I’m very talented with my hands.” He let the backpack slide to the ground and brought his hand to show Rose. His hands were thick with calluses, showing the obvious wear and tear of a person who worked with tools on a daily basis.
Rose came even close, touching his hand with hers. Her fingers ended in talon-like nails that were painted a bright red. Her touch must have been cold, because Nick flinched ever so slightly with her touch.
“That’s nice, Nick, but we don’t need any cabinets built here.” She stroked her fingers up and down his right hand, her nails leaving a slight trail of white marks where they passed. “The things we’re building require a bit more finesse than your hands seem to be capable of producing, if you know what I mean?” Her smile was only a few inches from his hand now.
“Look Lady, I only work with wood and metal when I need to, when I need to look like I make an honest living.” He pulled his hand back from her face as she ran a tongue over the gems in her upper teeth. “My talents lie with other, less conventional materials.”
“Oh, and just what might those be, dear Nick?” Her eyes ran up and down his body, as if she were she was very hungry and he was a great meal.
Nick knelt down to his backpack. “Step back now, Miss, I don’t want you to get hurt.” He reached into the pack and pulled out a small black controller with a knob and several buttons. He then flipped back the flap covering the opening and stood up.
Curious, Rose knelt down towards the pack despite Nick’s warning. “Show me what surprise you have for us.”
“Alright, but I warned you.”
Nick mashed a button with one of his fingers and the pack rustled as if something was coming alive.
Rose leaned closer.
Nick turned the knob on the controller and pressed another button. The thing in the backpack erupted from inside with a leap to land right in front of the startled Rose. It was a raccoon with glassy eyes and a permanent snarl to its face. As Nick manipulated the buttons and the knob, the creature moved with almost lifelike precision and speed.
Rose laughed with delight as she reached out to touch the fur. “It feels so life-like. Did you use real fur?”
Nick nodded. “It’s almost all real, from the bones and sinew to the fur. It’s a real raccoon.”
She marveled at the creature as he made it dance and maneuver around in front of her. “How does it move around?”
“That’s my little secret. Let me just say that you can’t buy it in stores. But my talents are for sale, if you know what I mean.”
Rose looked up from the zombified ‘coon and back up to Nick with a new kind of appreciation. “Can you do this with other creatures? Bigger creatures?”
Nick nodded again. “Yep, anything that’s got a body with bones, muscles and skin. The bigger they are, the easier they are to work with.”
Rose smiled again, this time it was the smile of someone who is pleasantly surprised. “I think, Nick, that you need to speak to my masters.”
(To be continued…)
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Monday, January 01, 2007
Puzzling Choices and Surprising Revelations
“I’m not sure what to do next.” I paced restlessly back and forth, the wooden floorboards of the Professor’s library creaking under my weight. “Do we focus on putting Dick Arnold and his shell companies out of business, or concentrate on the An’girasii like Drake wants me to do? I don’t like how things are shaping up.”
Jim was comfortably resting in his worn leather easy chair, a half-full 2 liter bottle of Diet Pepsi in hand. His eyes followed me as I paced, but his thoughts were clearly distant.
“Has Agent Wilson reported any more killings that look like the ones you dealt with in South Beach?”
I stopped briefly, looked back at him and shook my head. “No. Nothing is showing up as that glaring just yet, but there are a couple of historical cases where she is getting the old files on. She said she’d let me know when they arrived.”
He took a swig from the bottle before setting it down. “Well if there is anything to be found, she’ll find it. She was one of Ravyn’s best students. We were sorry to see her go, but at least we have a reliable contact at the Bureau again.”
“What, I’m not reliable enough for you?”
Jim laughed. “Well, you don’t actually spend much time down at Quantico, do you? Besides Ravyn’s not wrong when she points out how clueless you can be when it comes to dealing with people.”
“Hey now, that’s not fair. Do you know how hard it is to get people to open up and talk to you when you got a face like this? Even FBI agents turn around and walk the other way when they see me coming.”
Jim held up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m just agreeing with Ravyn. I’m not much of a small talker either. But you have to admit, Jennifer has an easier time talking her way into gossip and secrets than you do!”
I nodded. “Well it also helps that she has the Talents she does to read people and profile people. I certainly don’t have the people skills that she does, or the cute smile either.”
He smiled at that. “Right. Now back to the issue at hand. I’ve heard some troubling rumors from number of non-ORC Casters who’ve told me about a recruiting campaign that has been taking place.”
“Who is being recruited and who’s doing the recruiting?”
Jim got up from his chair and walked over to the window, looking out on his unnaturally green backyard for a late December day. “The Casters that are being recruited are the ones that we ORC’s have always been mindful of, the unsavory, unethical types who use their special talents solely for personal gain, usually at the expense of clueless, defenseless innocent people with no inherent Talent themselves.”
He turned back from the window, reached into a pocket in his jeans to pull out a small, transparent orb. He stared down into it briefly before he looked up and tossed it in my direction. “Catch!”
I bobbled the small, egg sized orb before securing it with both hands. I brought it up to closer to my face with my right hand, holding it firmly between thumb and index finger.
“What’s this?”
Jim settled back down into his easy chair, chuckling as he did so. “You catch about as well as our poor Tiger’s pitchers. Perhaps Jim Leyland should include you in that special fielding practice that he’s got ready for our pitchers this spring. That orb contains the entire field report from one of our moles. That will give you a very good idea of who is doing this recruiting.”
“Wait a minute…we have moles? How big of an organization do we actually have here? And how come I was never told about us having our own moles and spies?”
Jim glanced up at me through the wire-rimmed glasses that had slid down his nose and sighed. “Rusty, even with everything that we have been through together over the last year and a half, you have only seen the tip of the iceberg as far as this organization goes. Part of the reason for that has been happenstance, but the main reason has been by design. It has only been recently that we could be absolutely certain that you weren’t an agent of Drake’s trying to infiltrate our organization. There was simply too much at stake to risk revealing our entire organization and its resources to a person as dangerous as Drake and too someone as dangerous as you had become.”
That last sentence staggered me. “You were worried about me?”
He nodded. “We had to be.”
“It was John Red Bear who sought me out, not the other way around you know.”
“I know. It was also John’s advice that we were following to limit our exposure with you. Even he was worried that you could either be a double agent, or that you would fall prey to forces beyond your ability to control. That’s why you’ve dealt with a relatively small number of us to date. We’ve had to keep our exposure limited to Ravyn’s Phoenix Clan and her associate members such as the Frau, Cerrydwen and myself, plus Herne and Moira and a few folks that you met in Vegas.”
“How damn big is this organization?”
His expression was completely blank as he replied. “Big enough.”
“What, don’t you trust me yet?”
“It’s not merely a matter of trust, Rusty. It’s a matter of a need to know. Right now you don’t really have a need to know details that are really unimportant right now.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me, Jim. After all of the shit we’ve been through together, you’re pulling this on me? What the Hell do I have to do for you guys to fully trust me and treat me as an equal?”
Now he smiled. “I thought you’d never ask. Rusty, would you like to become a fully vested member of the Organization of Responsible Casters?”
I shook my head, but couldn’t keep from smiling myself. “Yeah, I would. So what do I need to do?”
Jim got up out of the chair again. As he moved towards me, he held out his right hand which held another small crystal orb. This orb will give you some details about the induction ceremony and what all it entails. Take some time to review the information in both orbs, while I make the necessary arrangements for your formal induction.”
“One question, how do I get the information out of these things?”
He chuckled again as he passed me. “Hold the one you want to view clasped in your right hand and just state the password. The images will begin playing in your head. The password for each stone is ‘Betsy.’ I would sit down when you are watching the images. It can be very disorienting. Now, if you will excuse me, I have some arrangements to make.”
I sat down in easy chair, looked at the orb in each hand and tried to decide which one to view first.
Jim was comfortably resting in his worn leather easy chair, a half-full 2 liter bottle of Diet Pepsi in hand. His eyes followed me as I paced, but his thoughts were clearly distant.
“Has Agent Wilson reported any more killings that look like the ones you dealt with in South Beach?”
I stopped briefly, looked back at him and shook my head. “No. Nothing is showing up as that glaring just yet, but there are a couple of historical cases where she is getting the old files on. She said she’d let me know when they arrived.”
He took a swig from the bottle before setting it down. “Well if there is anything to be found, she’ll find it. She was one of Ravyn’s best students. We were sorry to see her go, but at least we have a reliable contact at the Bureau again.”
“What, I’m not reliable enough for you?”
Jim laughed. “Well, you don’t actually spend much time down at Quantico, do you? Besides Ravyn’s not wrong when she points out how clueless you can be when it comes to dealing with people.”
“Hey now, that’s not fair. Do you know how hard it is to get people to open up and talk to you when you got a face like this? Even FBI agents turn around and walk the other way when they see me coming.”
Jim held up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m just agreeing with Ravyn. I’m not much of a small talker either. But you have to admit, Jennifer has an easier time talking her way into gossip and secrets than you do!”
I nodded. “Well it also helps that she has the Talents she does to read people and profile people. I certainly don’t have the people skills that she does, or the cute smile either.”
He smiled at that. “Right. Now back to the issue at hand. I’ve heard some troubling rumors from number of non-ORC Casters who’ve told me about a recruiting campaign that has been taking place.”
“Who is being recruited and who’s doing the recruiting?”
Jim got up from his chair and walked over to the window, looking out on his unnaturally green backyard for a late December day. “The Casters that are being recruited are the ones that we ORC’s have always been mindful of, the unsavory, unethical types who use their special talents solely for personal gain, usually at the expense of clueless, defenseless innocent people with no inherent Talent themselves.”
He turned back from the window, reached into a pocket in his jeans to pull out a small, transparent orb. He stared down into it briefly before he looked up and tossed it in my direction. “Catch!”
I bobbled the small, egg sized orb before securing it with both hands. I brought it up to closer to my face with my right hand, holding it firmly between thumb and index finger.
“What’s this?”
Jim settled back down into his easy chair, chuckling as he did so. “You catch about as well as our poor Tiger’s pitchers. Perhaps Jim Leyland should include you in that special fielding practice that he’s got ready for our pitchers this spring. That orb contains the entire field report from one of our moles. That will give you a very good idea of who is doing this recruiting.”
“Wait a minute…we have moles? How big of an organization do we actually have here? And how come I was never told about us having our own moles and spies?”
Jim glanced up at me through the wire-rimmed glasses that had slid down his nose and sighed. “Rusty, even with everything that we have been through together over the last year and a half, you have only seen the tip of the iceberg as far as this organization goes. Part of the reason for that has been happenstance, but the main reason has been by design. It has only been recently that we could be absolutely certain that you weren’t an agent of Drake’s trying to infiltrate our organization. There was simply too much at stake to risk revealing our entire organization and its resources to a person as dangerous as Drake and too someone as dangerous as you had become.”
That last sentence staggered me. “You were worried about me?”
He nodded. “We had to be.”
“It was John Red Bear who sought me out, not the other way around you know.”
“I know. It was also John’s advice that we were following to limit our exposure with you. Even he was worried that you could either be a double agent, or that you would fall prey to forces beyond your ability to control. That’s why you’ve dealt with a relatively small number of us to date. We’ve had to keep our exposure limited to Ravyn’s Phoenix Clan and her associate members such as the Frau, Cerrydwen and myself, plus Herne and Moira and a few folks that you met in Vegas.”
“How damn big is this organization?”
His expression was completely blank as he replied. “Big enough.”
“What, don’t you trust me yet?”
“It’s not merely a matter of trust, Rusty. It’s a matter of a need to know. Right now you don’t really have a need to know details that are really unimportant right now.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me, Jim. After all of the shit we’ve been through together, you’re pulling this on me? What the Hell do I have to do for you guys to fully trust me and treat me as an equal?”
Now he smiled. “I thought you’d never ask. Rusty, would you like to become a fully vested member of the Organization of Responsible Casters?”
I shook my head, but couldn’t keep from smiling myself. “Yeah, I would. So what do I need to do?”
Jim got up out of the chair again. As he moved towards me, he held out his right hand which held another small crystal orb. This orb will give you some details about the induction ceremony and what all it entails. Take some time to review the information in both orbs, while I make the necessary arrangements for your formal induction.”
“One question, how do I get the information out of these things?”
He chuckled again as he passed me. “Hold the one you want to view clasped in your right hand and just state the password. The images will begin playing in your head. The password for each stone is ‘Betsy.’ I would sit down when you are watching the images. It can be very disorienting. Now, if you will excuse me, I have some arrangements to make.”
I sat down in easy chair, looked at the orb in each hand and tried to decide which one to view first.
Monday, December 18, 2006
A Brief Yuletide Respite--An ORC Family Reunion
Yesterday, I had the honor of attending a Yule dinner at the Phoenix Coop. It was a full fledged Pagan feast hosted by Ravyn, organized by Katherine, and run with drill sergeant-like precision by the Frau and her dreaded sauce-covered Wooden Spoon of Doom.
The Coop was jam-packed with the entire extended family of Casters that had trained under Ravyn’s patient tutelage in addition to all of the folks who become family over the last almost two years of adventure.
Of course, my entire family, including my daughter Alexa and her mother, Naomi were present. Alexa, as she always seemed to be, was the center of attention. Her infectious smile and peals of giggling laughter caused more than her share of bright smiles and tears of joy. At nearly 18 months old, Alexa toddled and scoot around the house and through the legs of unsuspecting adults with the agility of a house cat. Somehow, she managed to find the time and energy to spend time with each person in the house, crawling into laps, playing games, and just plain cuddling in a way that left everyone at the party marveling at her.
Naomi kept herself close to our daughter wherever she went, keeping one watchful eye on her in the way that mothers everywhere do while making polite, but distracted small talk with other guests. She lit up and basked in the praise that was heaped upon her for our beautiful daughter, but she also radiant in her own right. She had made great strides in discovering and mastering her talents under the tutelage of Ravyn and it showed in her newly found self-confidence.
Jim tried to keep a fairly low profile, as he was always uncomfortable in large groups, but all of that ended when Alexa crawled up into his lap with a book in hand. It was a tradition that had been going on now for the last six months whenever she saw him. Somehow Alexa knew that the one surefire way to draw the Professor out of his self-imposed shell was to offer him the opportunity read out loud to her. It didn’t matter what the book was about, this particular book was an illustrated children’s version of Bulfinch’s Mythology. A small crowd that included the beaming Naomi gathered as Jim opened the book and threw himself into a rousing impersonation of Zeus’s voice thundering down from Mount Olympus.
Cerrydwen was the next victim of Alexa’s tour. After having been shooed from the kitchen Hurricane Frau, Cerrydwen found herself standing at the back of the crowd as the Professor finished his tale to a round of applause. He looked up in red-faced amazement to see that he was surrounded by an appreciative audience. With a quick smooch on the cheek for Jim, Alexa was up and bouncing through the forest of adult legs before a path could clear for her. A quick, mischievous giggle was all of the warning that Cerrydwen had before she found herself with an armful of wriggling, giggling happiness.
Cerrdywen’s normally dour demeanor melted away as she was smothered in an avalanche of Alexa’s hugs and kisses. But even as the onlookers were treated to an ever-so-rare smile from Cerrydwen, she was led away, hand in hand, by Alexa to enjoy some quiet time with Alexa in her room, Naomi trailing behind at a discrete distance.
I found Katherine, Kenny and Jasmine catching up on as they nibbled on vegetables from a party tray. Jasmine leaped up from her seat and buried me in a huge bear hug, to be joined shortly by the strong arms of Kenny. Katherine stayed back, watching as the kids and I spent a few moments together bonding.
I looked up to her, and saw for the first time in a very long time that she was the strong, independent woman that I had fallen in love with so long ago. She had a presence, the strength of Will, of a person who was now confident that she could take on any potential foe, any challenge, head-on. She nodded towards the backdoor and extended a welcoming hand towards me. “Let’s take a walk, Jason.”
I nodded, hugged the kids once again and took her small hand in mine as she led me towards the backdoor and the quiet darkness of the unseasonably warm northern Illinois night. Silently, she led me out the door and towards the small stone circle that was so familiar.
She took a seat on the metal bench and motioned for me to join her, which I did.
“So what’s up? You’re looking very good, by the way.”
She smiled, brought a hand up to my cheek. “I just wanted a private moment with you, Jason. There’s something I wanted to share with you, I was just waiting for the right moment.”
“What’s that?”
Her hand dropped to her lap as she looked away briefly before looking me in the eye again. “I’m sorry that things had to end the way they did…” Tears were rolling down her cheek as she sobbed.
I reached out and touched her hand gently. “Hey, I think that’s all water under the bridge now Kate. I know I certainly wasn’t the perfect husband that you deserved.”
She waved me quiet with her other hand, took a deep breath and composed herself once more. “Jason, I know that we were both at fault in how things ended between us, and I also know that Drake made things worse so that things would break down between us. I know all of that. I’m sorry though, for everything that you’ve had to give up to make all of this happen, but I also want you to know how much I appreciate that things did work out this way.” She squeezed my hand as she paused. “I can’t tell you how happy I am now for the way things have worked out. I have finally found some of what I had been searching for all of my life. For all of the hard times we went through, the sacrifices that had to be made, I want to thank you for being the man who I loved, and still, with all of my heart and soul.”
I didn’t know how to respond. It had been so long since we had talked, really talked to each other like this.
She held up her hand again, forestalling the stuttering words I was trying to find. She leaned close to me, looking up into my eyes with an expression I hadn’t seen from her in years, the expression of love. “I also wanted to tell you that I have been working with someone and that I can now travel to that place where you describe the Tree. I’ve been there and seen it.” Her eyes narrowed into a very sultry ‘come hither’ look. “I would like to see just how magickal that place can be, if you know what I mean.”
“You mean…”
She nodded. “I’ll bet spirit sex in that place would be mind-blowing. I want you, Jason Smith.”
“Uh…um…now?”
“No, not right this instant, but soon. And I won’t take no for an answer.”
I gave her hand a squeeze before pulling closer in an embrace. “Count on it babe. You name the time, and I’ll be there.”
We were still hugging when a bundled up, but exuberant Alexa came bouncing outside, followed closely by a hurrying Naomi, a regal Ravyn, and a gaggle of followers who seemed curious as to why they had been told to come out in the balmy December night.
Soon we were joined by nearly everyone who had come to mean so much me over the last year and half. The crowd gathered around the edges of the stone circle that Alexa had moved to the center of, dancing and cooing in the nonsensical baby-talk language that she used.
As each person joined the circle they gripped the hand of the two people next to them. Naomi was to might right, and Katherine to my left. Kenny and Jasmine stood next in line from their mother, followed by Jim, the Frau, Cerrydwen and Ravyn almost directly across from me. Moira and Herne, the FBI agent Jenny Wilson and then Zenny Al Farhan and T’tubah filled in the final spaces of the circle.
When the circle was closed, everyone fell silent, as did Alexa. With supernatural ease for a toddler who normally seemed to have trouble walking in a straight line, she stood tall and straight, raising both of her arms to starlit night. We all followed her gaze and gasped in amazement at the sight of a shooting star streaking across the sky at that exact moment.
The comet blazed with a pure, brilliant blue light with an enormous tail that stretched half way across the sky, bathing the whole scene in a pearlescent blue light for nearly a minute. But none of were paying any attention to the light shed by the comet anymore as a clear, sweet voice came forth from the child at the center of our gathering.
“Dearest loved ones; take a brief moment to give thanks for the blessings that have been bestowed upon us in this time of death and rebirth. Know that it is from Death that new Life may spring forth brighter and more vibrant, stronger and more resilient. Know that this time that we have together is all too brief, but that the Love that we share is Eternal. Know that the times of great trial will soon be upon us and that great sacrifices will be required before the Dawn of New Hope will brighten our sky once again. Know though, that when all else seems lost and the night becomes darkest, that Hope and Love will see you through the time of travails. Know that my Love for each of you is as boundless as the night sky above us.”
As the strange blue light faded, Alexa’s arms came back down to her sides. She giggled once and took off at a staggering, stumbling run right into Ravyn’s arms.
Ravyn gathered up the child and stood back up. Looking at each of us in turn, Ravyn finally broke the awed silence. “Let us each remember this night. We have each glimpsed something of the person this child will become. Let us also hold onto the hope of which she spoke so eloquently. It may be that Hope and our Love for her and for each other that sees us through the coming time.” She paused for effect, before breaking into a huge grin. “But tonight, tonight we give thanks for the blessings that we have right now, right here. The Frau has managed to put together an impressive feast. So let us celebrate Yule this night in peace and love. Let’s go eat!”
(No post next weekend due to family obligations--next post to come in the weekend of New Year's.)
The Coop was jam-packed with the entire extended family of Casters that had trained under Ravyn’s patient tutelage in addition to all of the folks who become family over the last almost two years of adventure.
Of course, my entire family, including my daughter Alexa and her mother, Naomi were present. Alexa, as she always seemed to be, was the center of attention. Her infectious smile and peals of giggling laughter caused more than her share of bright smiles and tears of joy. At nearly 18 months old, Alexa toddled and scoot around the house and through the legs of unsuspecting adults with the agility of a house cat. Somehow, she managed to find the time and energy to spend time with each person in the house, crawling into laps, playing games, and just plain cuddling in a way that left everyone at the party marveling at her.
Naomi kept herself close to our daughter wherever she went, keeping one watchful eye on her in the way that mothers everywhere do while making polite, but distracted small talk with other guests. She lit up and basked in the praise that was heaped upon her for our beautiful daughter, but she also radiant in her own right. She had made great strides in discovering and mastering her talents under the tutelage of Ravyn and it showed in her newly found self-confidence.
Jim tried to keep a fairly low profile, as he was always uncomfortable in large groups, but all of that ended when Alexa crawled up into his lap with a book in hand. It was a tradition that had been going on now for the last six months whenever she saw him. Somehow Alexa knew that the one surefire way to draw the Professor out of his self-imposed shell was to offer him the opportunity read out loud to her. It didn’t matter what the book was about, this particular book was an illustrated children’s version of Bulfinch’s Mythology. A small crowd that included the beaming Naomi gathered as Jim opened the book and threw himself into a rousing impersonation of Zeus’s voice thundering down from Mount Olympus.
Cerrydwen was the next victim of Alexa’s tour. After having been shooed from the kitchen Hurricane Frau, Cerrydwen found herself standing at the back of the crowd as the Professor finished his tale to a round of applause. He looked up in red-faced amazement to see that he was surrounded by an appreciative audience. With a quick smooch on the cheek for Jim, Alexa was up and bouncing through the forest of adult legs before a path could clear for her. A quick, mischievous giggle was all of the warning that Cerrydwen had before she found herself with an armful of wriggling, giggling happiness.
Cerrdywen’s normally dour demeanor melted away as she was smothered in an avalanche of Alexa’s hugs and kisses. But even as the onlookers were treated to an ever-so-rare smile from Cerrydwen, she was led away, hand in hand, by Alexa to enjoy some quiet time with Alexa in her room, Naomi trailing behind at a discrete distance.
I found Katherine, Kenny and Jasmine catching up on as they nibbled on vegetables from a party tray. Jasmine leaped up from her seat and buried me in a huge bear hug, to be joined shortly by the strong arms of Kenny. Katherine stayed back, watching as the kids and I spent a few moments together bonding.
I looked up to her, and saw for the first time in a very long time that she was the strong, independent woman that I had fallen in love with so long ago. She had a presence, the strength of Will, of a person who was now confident that she could take on any potential foe, any challenge, head-on. She nodded towards the backdoor and extended a welcoming hand towards me. “Let’s take a walk, Jason.”
I nodded, hugged the kids once again and took her small hand in mine as she led me towards the backdoor and the quiet darkness of the unseasonably warm northern Illinois night. Silently, she led me out the door and towards the small stone circle that was so familiar.
She took a seat on the metal bench and motioned for me to join her, which I did.
“So what’s up? You’re looking very good, by the way.”
She smiled, brought a hand up to my cheek. “I just wanted a private moment with you, Jason. There’s something I wanted to share with you, I was just waiting for the right moment.”
“What’s that?”
Her hand dropped to her lap as she looked away briefly before looking me in the eye again. “I’m sorry that things had to end the way they did…” Tears were rolling down her cheek as she sobbed.
I reached out and touched her hand gently. “Hey, I think that’s all water under the bridge now Kate. I know I certainly wasn’t the perfect husband that you deserved.”
She waved me quiet with her other hand, took a deep breath and composed herself once more. “Jason, I know that we were both at fault in how things ended between us, and I also know that Drake made things worse so that things would break down between us. I know all of that. I’m sorry though, for everything that you’ve had to give up to make all of this happen, but I also want you to know how much I appreciate that things did work out this way.” She squeezed my hand as she paused. “I can’t tell you how happy I am now for the way things have worked out. I have finally found some of what I had been searching for all of my life. For all of the hard times we went through, the sacrifices that had to be made, I want to thank you for being the man who I loved, and still, with all of my heart and soul.”
I didn’t know how to respond. It had been so long since we had talked, really talked to each other like this.
She held up her hand again, forestalling the stuttering words I was trying to find. She leaned close to me, looking up into my eyes with an expression I hadn’t seen from her in years, the expression of love. “I also wanted to tell you that I have been working with someone and that I can now travel to that place where you describe the Tree. I’ve been there and seen it.” Her eyes narrowed into a very sultry ‘come hither’ look. “I would like to see just how magickal that place can be, if you know what I mean.”
“You mean…”
She nodded. “I’ll bet spirit sex in that place would be mind-blowing. I want you, Jason Smith.”
“Uh…um…now?”
“No, not right this instant, but soon. And I won’t take no for an answer.”
I gave her hand a squeeze before pulling closer in an embrace. “Count on it babe. You name the time, and I’ll be there.”
We were still hugging when a bundled up, but exuberant Alexa came bouncing outside, followed closely by a hurrying Naomi, a regal Ravyn, and a gaggle of followers who seemed curious as to why they had been told to come out in the balmy December night.
Soon we were joined by nearly everyone who had come to mean so much me over the last year and half. The crowd gathered around the edges of the stone circle that Alexa had moved to the center of, dancing and cooing in the nonsensical baby-talk language that she used.
As each person joined the circle they gripped the hand of the two people next to them. Naomi was to might right, and Katherine to my left. Kenny and Jasmine stood next in line from their mother, followed by Jim, the Frau, Cerrydwen and Ravyn almost directly across from me. Moira and Herne, the FBI agent Jenny Wilson and then Zenny Al Farhan and T’tubah filled in the final spaces of the circle.
When the circle was closed, everyone fell silent, as did Alexa. With supernatural ease for a toddler who normally seemed to have trouble walking in a straight line, she stood tall and straight, raising both of her arms to starlit night. We all followed her gaze and gasped in amazement at the sight of a shooting star streaking across the sky at that exact moment.
The comet blazed with a pure, brilliant blue light with an enormous tail that stretched half way across the sky, bathing the whole scene in a pearlescent blue light for nearly a minute. But none of were paying any attention to the light shed by the comet anymore as a clear, sweet voice came forth from the child at the center of our gathering.
“Dearest loved ones; take a brief moment to give thanks for the blessings that have been bestowed upon us in this time of death and rebirth. Know that it is from Death that new Life may spring forth brighter and more vibrant, stronger and more resilient. Know that this time that we have together is all too brief, but that the Love that we share is Eternal. Know that the times of great trial will soon be upon us and that great sacrifices will be required before the Dawn of New Hope will brighten our sky once again. Know though, that when all else seems lost and the night becomes darkest, that Hope and Love will see you through the time of travails. Know that my Love for each of you is as boundless as the night sky above us.”
As the strange blue light faded, Alexa’s arms came back down to her sides. She giggled once and took off at a staggering, stumbling run right into Ravyn’s arms.
Ravyn gathered up the child and stood back up. Looking at each of us in turn, Ravyn finally broke the awed silence. “Let us each remember this night. We have each glimpsed something of the person this child will become. Let us also hold onto the hope of which she spoke so eloquently. It may be that Hope and our Love for her and for each other that sees us through the coming time.” She paused for effect, before breaking into a huge grin. “But tonight, tonight we give thanks for the blessings that we have right now, right here. The Frau has managed to put together an impressive feast. So let us celebrate Yule this night in peace and love. Let’s go eat!”
(No post next weekend due to family obligations--next post to come in the weekend of New Year's.)
Sunday, December 10, 2006
Drake's Tale--#2...Cosmology Primer
You will have to pardon me for the diversion I am about to go into, but some things must be said before I can continue with my tale.
Let it be noted for the record that I will not tolerate such a long delay in my narrative again. If my ‘son’ wants to avoid any further nasty defeats against creatures that he has only dreamed existed, he would be well advised to pay heed to my story and learn what it is I have to offer.
My father is one of the three most powerful lords among the An’girasii. He commands Spirits both great and small. He will stop at nothing to regain the worship and admiration of millions of human subjects. It is his birthright, his destiny, and his most ardent desire.
The scrolls that his servant left with Rusty are but a mere hint at the tactics to which he will resort, once he has laid the groundwork he feels is necessary.
As much as I might want to let the full nature of the An’girasii be revealed throughout the course of my story, it appears that I will have to be far less subtle in my storytelling.
So let me start at the beginning. Not my beginning, mind you, but the very beginning…
Your modern scientific theories of the beginning of the universe are actually not that far off from how it all actually began, of course I might have played a hand in or two in helping guide the right individuals along a bit, but I digress…
In the beginning, the universe, including the various worlds and dimensions of both physical and the Spiritual existence, was a very tiny, very compressed ball containing enormous amounts of energy, matter and Spirit that were bound together into The One.
There are almost as many names for The One as there are languages to say it in…YHWH, Jehovah, Allah, Dios, God, the Holy Spirit, etc.
Everything, everyone, that has ever existed in this Universe, and that ever will exist, was contained within The One, all bound together for untold countless eons as one omnipotent, omniscient entity.
But just as a living body is comprised of millions of living cells and countless billions of atoms of matter, The One was also comprised of trillions of unique Spirits, an unfathomable amount of compressed matter, and nearly limitless amounts of energy.
For reasons unknown to (but often guessed at) any individual Spirit that I know of, The One erupted in a massive conflagration that your scientists call the Big Bang, creating the ‘multiverse’ as we know it now.
Each of the Spirits that had been previously part of The One were now free entities to explore this new universe, to try and make sense of the maelstrom of Chaos that existed in those early moments after the Big Bang.
Just as matter and energy scattered and then later coalesced into galaxies and stars, planets and asteroids, Spirits also first scattered and then began coming back together, for the most part bringing Order to the Chaos of the Big Bang.
Your modern science can measure and quantify both matter and energy (at least most of the common forms of each), but human science has not yet been able to come to grips with the existence of the third, and most important aspect of existence, Spirit. It is fairly well understood that neither matter nor energy can be created or destroyed. Matter can be converted into energy and energy can be converted into matter, but the motivating ‘force’ for any of that to happen is Spirit.
Only once humans begin to truly grasp this concept and begin to apply it on a regular basis, will they be able to make the breakthroughs to become fully engaged in this Universe of ours.
As time progressed, Spirits were able to find expression within the physical world by manipulating both energy and matter in such a way as to develop Life. Once living organisms became developed to such as degree as to be useful, Spirits began to invest themselves into those living organisms.
In the process of doing so, however, something strange and wonderful happened…once they became attached to living organisms, almost all Spirits lost (at least temporarily) the conscious knowledge of their own true existence, becoming instead, fully invested in the struggle to survive in the physical environment in which they found themselves.
Oh, the more advanced the biological form was, the higher the level of consciousness became, but it was only the rare living being that remained even partially cognizant of the existence of their own, or anyone else’s, Spirit. But, it was often not until the death of the living organism was imminent that the Spirit within that organism began to recall its true nature and could begin to incorporate the lessons and knowledge it had gained by living. By participating in the drama of life and death in the physical world, Spirits gain invaluable knowledge and experience and forge relationships that help them to learn and grow.
Many Spirits choose to enter this cycle of life and death many, many times. Each time they do so, they enter a new body, immediately prior to the birth (or hatching, etc.) of that creature. Most of the time the kind of Spirit that is attracted to that life form is the same kind of Spirit that inhabits the bodies of most members of that species. In those rare instances when the ‘wrong’ kind of Spirit is attracted to the new life form, interesting things may happen.
Now, let’s get refocused just a little bit from this grander picture that I have been painting and bring us back a little bit towards the portrait at hand.
Just as each cell in your body is individually unique, there a clearly groups of similar cells that perform similar functions with each other, and have similar needs. It was the same within The One. Each Spirit and each seed of a Spirit contained within The One was a unique individual, but there were, at minimum, several dozen different Orders of Spirits.
The vast majority of Spirits are rather small and inconsequential beings that don’t have the self awareness or the power to manifest any changes upon the physical world. They are the lowest level of spiritual entities.
I will try not to bore you overly much with the details of this, but suffice it to say that the kinds of Spirits that inhabit human bodies, are for the most part, middling level entities that are neither particularly high nor particularly low on the pecking order of Spirit existence.
To shorten this up a bit, let me just state that the An’girasii are Spirits that are of a significantly higher Order than the Spirits that are called into human bodies. (To be continued in my next permitted installment.)
Let it be noted for the record that I will not tolerate such a long delay in my narrative again. If my ‘son’ wants to avoid any further nasty defeats against creatures that he has only dreamed existed, he would be well advised to pay heed to my story and learn what it is I have to offer.
My father is one of the three most powerful lords among the An’girasii. He commands Spirits both great and small. He will stop at nothing to regain the worship and admiration of millions of human subjects. It is his birthright, his destiny, and his most ardent desire.
The scrolls that his servant left with Rusty are but a mere hint at the tactics to which he will resort, once he has laid the groundwork he feels is necessary.
As much as I might want to let the full nature of the An’girasii be revealed throughout the course of my story, it appears that I will have to be far less subtle in my storytelling.
So let me start at the beginning. Not my beginning, mind you, but the very beginning…
Your modern scientific theories of the beginning of the universe are actually not that far off from how it all actually began, of course I might have played a hand in or two in helping guide the right individuals along a bit, but I digress…
In the beginning, the universe, including the various worlds and dimensions of both physical and the Spiritual existence, was a very tiny, very compressed ball containing enormous amounts of energy, matter and Spirit that were bound together into The One.
There are almost as many names for The One as there are languages to say it in…YHWH, Jehovah, Allah, Dios, God, the Holy Spirit, etc.
Everything, everyone, that has ever existed in this Universe, and that ever will exist, was contained within The One, all bound together for untold countless eons as one omnipotent, omniscient entity.
But just as a living body is comprised of millions of living cells and countless billions of atoms of matter, The One was also comprised of trillions of unique Spirits, an unfathomable amount of compressed matter, and nearly limitless amounts of energy.
For reasons unknown to (but often guessed at) any individual Spirit that I know of, The One erupted in a massive conflagration that your scientists call the Big Bang, creating the ‘multiverse’ as we know it now.
Each of the Spirits that had been previously part of The One were now free entities to explore this new universe, to try and make sense of the maelstrom of Chaos that existed in those early moments after the Big Bang.
Just as matter and energy scattered and then later coalesced into galaxies and stars, planets and asteroids, Spirits also first scattered and then began coming back together, for the most part bringing Order to the Chaos of the Big Bang.
Your modern science can measure and quantify both matter and energy (at least most of the common forms of each), but human science has not yet been able to come to grips with the existence of the third, and most important aspect of existence, Spirit. It is fairly well understood that neither matter nor energy can be created or destroyed. Matter can be converted into energy and energy can be converted into matter, but the motivating ‘force’ for any of that to happen is Spirit.
Only once humans begin to truly grasp this concept and begin to apply it on a regular basis, will they be able to make the breakthroughs to become fully engaged in this Universe of ours.
As time progressed, Spirits were able to find expression within the physical world by manipulating both energy and matter in such a way as to develop Life. Once living organisms became developed to such as degree as to be useful, Spirits began to invest themselves into those living organisms.
In the process of doing so, however, something strange and wonderful happened…once they became attached to living organisms, almost all Spirits lost (at least temporarily) the conscious knowledge of their own true existence, becoming instead, fully invested in the struggle to survive in the physical environment in which they found themselves.
Oh, the more advanced the biological form was, the higher the level of consciousness became, but it was only the rare living being that remained even partially cognizant of the existence of their own, or anyone else’s, Spirit. But, it was often not until the death of the living organism was imminent that the Spirit within that organism began to recall its true nature and could begin to incorporate the lessons and knowledge it had gained by living. By participating in the drama of life and death in the physical world, Spirits gain invaluable knowledge and experience and forge relationships that help them to learn and grow.
Many Spirits choose to enter this cycle of life and death many, many times. Each time they do so, they enter a new body, immediately prior to the birth (or hatching, etc.) of that creature. Most of the time the kind of Spirit that is attracted to that life form is the same kind of Spirit that inhabits the bodies of most members of that species. In those rare instances when the ‘wrong’ kind of Spirit is attracted to the new life form, interesting things may happen.
Now, let’s get refocused just a little bit from this grander picture that I have been painting and bring us back a little bit towards the portrait at hand.
Just as each cell in your body is individually unique, there a clearly groups of similar cells that perform similar functions with each other, and have similar needs. It was the same within The One. Each Spirit and each seed of a Spirit contained within The One was a unique individual, but there were, at minimum, several dozen different Orders of Spirits.
The vast majority of Spirits are rather small and inconsequential beings that don’t have the self awareness or the power to manifest any changes upon the physical world. They are the lowest level of spiritual entities.
I will try not to bore you overly much with the details of this, but suffice it to say that the kinds of Spirits that inhabit human bodies, are for the most part, middling level entities that are neither particularly high nor particularly low on the pecking order of Spirit existence.
To shorten this up a bit, let me just state that the An’girasii are Spirits that are of a significantly higher Order than the Spirits that are called into human bodies. (To be continued in my next permitted installment.)
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Dracaar's Scrolls
(I discovered that what appeared to be one scroll was actually two. The contents of the top scroll have been translated from the original An’girasii language by me. I have made every attempt to translate this message as accurately as possible. My mastery of this language, however, is incomplete. The second scroll was a more personal message, also written in his original language, although it was far less formal, and thus easier to translate.—RB)
The First Scroll
“Rejoice, O’ Sons and Daughters of Man, Rejoice! For the Son of God walks among you once more! Rejoice!
“Know ye, one and all, that I have returned after lo’ these many years to fulfill the Prophecies of Old!
“Let it be known far and wide that the Lord has returned! I come bearing the Sword of Truth and the Shield of Justice. I have returned to lead my true and faithful Servants to battle against the Forces of Darkness that seek to deprive you of my Majesty, my Mercy!
“Know ye, one and all, that Witches and Sorcerers—Servants of Darkness, one and all—walk amongst you, unseen and unknown except to those who remain True and Faithful to the Lord, your God!
“Rise up! Cast down the Wicked amongst you! Those without Faith in the Lord must be cast down into the Lake of Fire, so that their Sins might be purified, their Souls cleansed of the Darkness that they serve!
“The Daughter of Death has been born! She preaches a False Faith and offers a False Hope. She is the Enemy of Enemies! She will be cast down with all who serve her!
“The End is near! The Enemy is Strong! The Time of Tribulation is upon you!”
The Second Scroll
“Whelp,
Thank you for releasing me from the prison that my traitorous son had devised for me. I have taken some time to get to know this new world, this new era in which I now find myself.
I marvel both at how much humans have changed and how much they have changed their world, yet how weak and gullible they continue to be! I will very much enjoy our time together. It will be so easy to bend the multitudes to my Will. Even in this singular nation, the pinnacle of achievement in human civilization, the multitudes cry out for true leadership. They seek succor of the soul that only I and my siblings can offer. With all of your technology, your science, your vaunted and illusory freedoms, humanity still fears that which goes bump in the night.
The time is not yet ripe for my Call to be heard by your people. When that time arrives, whole nations will tremble and fall before me. At my word, whole populations will bend to my Will, eager to serve as whatever fodder I may need.
Your time grows short whelp. Learn quickly from your father if you wish to engage me or my servants in battle.
--Dracaar”
The First Scroll
“Rejoice, O’ Sons and Daughters of Man, Rejoice! For the Son of God walks among you once more! Rejoice!
“Know ye, one and all, that I have returned after lo’ these many years to fulfill the Prophecies of Old!
“Let it be known far and wide that the Lord has returned! I come bearing the Sword of Truth and the Shield of Justice. I have returned to lead my true and faithful Servants to battle against the Forces of Darkness that seek to deprive you of my Majesty, my Mercy!
“Know ye, one and all, that Witches and Sorcerers—Servants of Darkness, one and all—walk amongst you, unseen and unknown except to those who remain True and Faithful to the Lord, your God!
“Rise up! Cast down the Wicked amongst you! Those without Faith in the Lord must be cast down into the Lake of Fire, so that their Sins might be purified, their Souls cleansed of the Darkness that they serve!
“The Daughter of Death has been born! She preaches a False Faith and offers a False Hope. She is the Enemy of Enemies! She will be cast down with all who serve her!
“The End is near! The Enemy is Strong! The Time of Tribulation is upon you!”
The Second Scroll
“Whelp,
Thank you for releasing me from the prison that my traitorous son had devised for me. I have taken some time to get to know this new world, this new era in which I now find myself.
I marvel both at how much humans have changed and how much they have changed their world, yet how weak and gullible they continue to be! I will very much enjoy our time together. It will be so easy to bend the multitudes to my Will. Even in this singular nation, the pinnacle of achievement in human civilization, the multitudes cry out for true leadership. They seek succor of the soul that only I and my siblings can offer. With all of your technology, your science, your vaunted and illusory freedoms, humanity still fears that which goes bump in the night.
The time is not yet ripe for my Call to be heard by your people. When that time arrives, whole nations will tremble and fall before me. At my word, whole populations will bend to my Will, eager to serve as whatever fodder I may need.
Your time grows short whelp. Learn quickly from your father if you wish to engage me or my servants in battle.
--Dracaar”
Sunday, December 03, 2006
South Beach Diet...Epilogue
I stood, arms folded across my chest, as I watched the discussion taking place in the room behind the one way mirror.
Special Agent Jennifer Wilson paced behind me, flailing her arms as she spoke. “How can Corrales possibly think that he is the real killer? That man is stark raving mad!”
“Who is, Corrales?” I continued to focus my attention on the face of the man I knocked out.
His face was still stained with the blood from the victim’s kidney that he had nearly finished. His eyes were wide open, his pupils dilated. The dark circles beneath his eyes indicated that he had been running on little sleep for quite some time.
He was speaking in short, quick sentences that were nearly incoherent, especially if, like Corrales, you didn’t understand the babbled references he was throwing out like barbs to me.
“It’s been a great run man. I love the beach. It’s a perfect place for a midnight meal with the Beast. Blood never tasted so good.”
Corrales was overwhelmed, trying to take an intelligible statement form this guy, but he kept pressing anyway. “George, why did you kill these five victims?”
George shook his head. “I didn’t kill them, man. The Beast did. Oh, I suppose that I helped. Especially with that last one. She was a wild one, that one. I don’t know why the Beast wanted them dead, dude, but they sure were tasty.”
“Who is this Beast you keep referring to?”
George smiled; his bloody lips curling back as he did so. “It’s here watching you, so you better treat me right, Detective. It’s always here watching, learning, judging. The Beast is you, me, all of us.”
Corrales nodded, seemingly glad to have received an answer that he could use. “So you are the Beast, right George?”
George just smiled.
I had seen enough. I turned to face the still pacing Jennifer and touched her lightly at her elbow. When she turned to face me, I leaned in close and spoke softly nearly her left ear.
“Don’t worry Jennifer, your profile was impeccable. This man is not the killer of these people, but the creature that led me to him left him to take the fall for those killings. All of the forensic evidence will be made to fit this guy. There is nothing that you or I can do to stop that now. This whole series of killings was meant to solely to draw me here.”
She pulled back at that. “But why would…?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know enough yet to say for sure, other than that I was given a message. I message I haven’t had time to read yet.”
She looked shaken. “I have pictures of the symbols that were left next to each body. Do you want me to give you copies? Maybe they were part of the message too?”
“Yeah, you can send them to me via e-mail. I need to go, now.” I looked back through the one-way glass into the interrogation room to see that Corrales was putting the papers he had been filling out back into a folder. A group of burly officers from the Metro-Dade Police Department had entered the room to escort the soon-to-be-famous serial killer du jour to his cell. I leaned in close to Jennifer again. “Keep an eye out for strange profiles like this one. Let me know ASAP when you encounter another one.”
“There will be more?” Her eyes had grown wide with shock.
I nodded. “It’s just a matter of time. You can count on that. Tell Corrales that I’ve left. He won’t get, or need, any testimony from me for this nutcase.”
I left her to her own thoughts and Corrales’ likely wrath at my failure to stick around. I found a nice, darkened office just off the main hall and slipped into the Shadowland for the brief trip home.
I emerged in my meditation chamber, a particularly dark room that had no actual door into it in the mundane world. It was here that I came when I needed to be alone with my own thoughts.
I touched a small orb that lit up the small room with a bright, clear blue light. I pulled the rolled up scroll from the pocket I had kept it in and began examining it as I sat down at the small roll top desk that served as my only work surface for writing.
The leather of the scroll had a strange look to it and felt thinner and lighter than new leather should have. The scroll was held closed by a thick wax seal that was embossed with the symbol of a dragon with three heads…Dracaar’s sigil.
I cracked open the seal, letting the pieces of wax crumble onto the desk. I unrolled the scroll carefully.
The language of the letters and symbols of the scroll gave me pause for a moment as I searched the memories of Ma Grendel to come up with meanings. When it clicked into place, I drew an instinctive breath. This was no human language, but the original script of the An’girasii.
The message contained within those words was chilling…(to be revealed in the next post.)
Special Agent Jennifer Wilson paced behind me, flailing her arms as she spoke. “How can Corrales possibly think that he is the real killer? That man is stark raving mad!”
“Who is, Corrales?” I continued to focus my attention on the face of the man I knocked out.
His face was still stained with the blood from the victim’s kidney that he had nearly finished. His eyes were wide open, his pupils dilated. The dark circles beneath his eyes indicated that he had been running on little sleep for quite some time.
He was speaking in short, quick sentences that were nearly incoherent, especially if, like Corrales, you didn’t understand the babbled references he was throwing out like barbs to me.
“It’s been a great run man. I love the beach. It’s a perfect place for a midnight meal with the Beast. Blood never tasted so good.”
Corrales was overwhelmed, trying to take an intelligible statement form this guy, but he kept pressing anyway. “George, why did you kill these five victims?”
George shook his head. “I didn’t kill them, man. The Beast did. Oh, I suppose that I helped. Especially with that last one. She was a wild one, that one. I don’t know why the Beast wanted them dead, dude, but they sure were tasty.”
“Who is this Beast you keep referring to?”
George smiled; his bloody lips curling back as he did so. “It’s here watching you, so you better treat me right, Detective. It’s always here watching, learning, judging. The Beast is you, me, all of us.”
Corrales nodded, seemingly glad to have received an answer that he could use. “So you are the Beast, right George?”
George just smiled.
I had seen enough. I turned to face the still pacing Jennifer and touched her lightly at her elbow. When she turned to face me, I leaned in close and spoke softly nearly her left ear.
“Don’t worry Jennifer, your profile was impeccable. This man is not the killer of these people, but the creature that led me to him left him to take the fall for those killings. All of the forensic evidence will be made to fit this guy. There is nothing that you or I can do to stop that now. This whole series of killings was meant to solely to draw me here.”
She pulled back at that. “But why would…?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know enough yet to say for sure, other than that I was given a message. I message I haven’t had time to read yet.”
She looked shaken. “I have pictures of the symbols that were left next to each body. Do you want me to give you copies? Maybe they were part of the message too?”
“Yeah, you can send them to me via e-mail. I need to go, now.” I looked back through the one-way glass into the interrogation room to see that Corrales was putting the papers he had been filling out back into a folder. A group of burly officers from the Metro-Dade Police Department had entered the room to escort the soon-to-be-famous serial killer du jour to his cell. I leaned in close to Jennifer again. “Keep an eye out for strange profiles like this one. Let me know ASAP when you encounter another one.”
“There will be more?” Her eyes had grown wide with shock.
I nodded. “It’s just a matter of time. You can count on that. Tell Corrales that I’ve left. He won’t get, or need, any testimony from me for this nutcase.”
I left her to her own thoughts and Corrales’ likely wrath at my failure to stick around. I found a nice, darkened office just off the main hall and slipped into the Shadowland for the brief trip home.
I emerged in my meditation chamber, a particularly dark room that had no actual door into it in the mundane world. It was here that I came when I needed to be alone with my own thoughts.
I touched a small orb that lit up the small room with a bright, clear blue light. I pulled the rolled up scroll from the pocket I had kept it in and began examining it as I sat down at the small roll top desk that served as my only work surface for writing.
The leather of the scroll had a strange look to it and felt thinner and lighter than new leather should have. The scroll was held closed by a thick wax seal that was embossed with the symbol of a dragon with three heads…Dracaar’s sigil.
I cracked open the seal, letting the pieces of wax crumble onto the desk. I unrolled the scroll carefully.
The language of the letters and symbols of the scroll gave me pause for a moment as I searched the memories of Ma Grendel to come up with meanings. When it clicked into place, I drew an instinctive breath. This was no human language, but the original script of the An’girasii.
The message contained within those words was chilling…(to be revealed in the next post.)
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
South Beach Diet...Part 4
A figure strolled in the darkness along the beach, off to my left. It was walking that line between earth and ocean, alone, just as I moved between the world of Shadow and Light. Its physical form was that of a lithe young man. Its Spirit form was something Other, something that I had not seen before. It was small and dark, exuding a roiling, seething hatred.
The doppelganger was issuing its challenge to me- ‘Come play!’
It was time to make a proper introduction. I called the Shadow, wrapping myself fully within it. I gave the dark energy the twist that took me from one place to another and stepped out directly in front of the creature.
The fleshy face of the young man melted away as I stood at arms length from the creature. I was standing face to face with a being that now had no face.
“Why have you come, Hunter?” No mouth opened as it spoke, instead a slow, grating whisper just emanated from the creature.
“Why are you killing these people? What have they done to you?” I stood facing the thing in a combat-ready stance. My hands open and ready to trigger my batons to drop into place at the first sign that it was done talking.
“It is time to Hunt again. Have you not heard the Call?” Its form shifted slightly, its arms grew slightly longer than would be normal for a human being of its height, its hands shifted into large, wicked looking claws.
“What Call is that?” I rose up on the balls of my feet and shifted my balance forward ever so slightly.
“The Call of the An’girasii, that which has not been uttered in over six hundred years, ever since the Burning Times. How can you not hear it, Brother?” It reached one razor sharp talon towards me slowly, pointing towards where my heart used to be. “Lord Dracaar walks the land once more. My Spirit sings with his Call. I feast so that I may grow strong enough to serve him once again! Shall we dine together tonight?”
I brushed the talon away with a sweep of my left arm while reaching up to the sheath across my back that was not actually present in the physical world. Somehow I didn’t think my batons would be of much use against this creature.
“Look buddy, I don’t hear any Call from Dracaar or anyone else, but I think you’ve had your last meal on this or any beach.”
It drew back from my brush off and gathered itself for a lunging attack, both clawed hands ready to strike with its leap.
It leapt before I could get my hand on the hilt of Excalibur, knocking me backwards onto my back in the wet sand. We became a tangle of grasping hands and claws, kicking legs and tussling forms in the gently rolling waves.
It wrestled with the strength of several men, moving lightning fast with the ferocity of natural predator as it tried to keep me from reaching the blade that it somehow knew was there.
“You are known to us, young Hunter. You have much to learn before you will inspire fear in any of us the way your Father did.” It was not straining to speak as we continued to wrestle, it continued to gain the upper hand, always anticipating my next attempt to wrest my hand free to reach for the blade.
“Drake was not my father, dammit!”
It gave off what could only be considered a chuckle as it leaned its grey, blank face close to mine. “It was only through him that you were born into this existence. He is your Father in every way that matters.”
I stopped struggling when I realized that this creature, this doppelganger, was sitting astride my chest in the shallow surf, holding me down, but not otherwise trying to harm me. I stared into its blank mask of a face, trying to pierce the veil into its Spirit. “Who or what exactly are you and why did you draw me here?”
Two pinpricks of red light grew into glowing orbs of eyes. “I am a humble Servant, a messenger, if you will. I have something for you.”
“What is it?”
It reached into the dark robes that I now realized it was wearing and drew out a rolled up piece of what looked like leather that was sealed by some sort of wax-like blob and placed it on my chest as it let go of my right arm with its other claw and stood up.
“Read this soon, it is a message for your eyes only. You will find the fifth and final victim a short ways down the beach. You will also find a suitably guilty killer alive next to the carcass. He will serve the needs of your human justice system well enough for now.”
“I can’t scapegoat some poor schmuck for your crimes!”
It stood over me, its eyes fading back into the grey of the mask. “Oh, I’ve chosen well for you. He’s killed far more of his fellow men than I have lately. If he weren’t so fallibly human, he might have been of more use to us. I have enjoyed this meeting young Hunter, until we meet again, fare thee well.”
I sat up, grabbing the thick leather scroll before it fell into the water. As I did, the creature faded into Shadow and was gone.
I got up, knocked some of the wet sand off of me and set off towards the site of the fifth victim a few hundred yards to the south. As promised, I found the fifth victim and a dazed man with the sickly Spirit of an unrepentant killer kneeling next to her. In one blood drenched hand he held the half eaten kidney of the young woman laid out, spread eagle on the bloodied sands of South Beach. His other hand was covered by bloody glove with jagged blades extending from the fingers.
I subdued the bastard with one quick blow to the back of his head with my fist and made the call for Agent Corrales to collect his prize for the dog and pony show that was sure to follow this arrest…
The doppelganger was issuing its challenge to me- ‘Come play!’
It was time to make a proper introduction. I called the Shadow, wrapping myself fully within it. I gave the dark energy the twist that took me from one place to another and stepped out directly in front of the creature.
The fleshy face of the young man melted away as I stood at arms length from the creature. I was standing face to face with a being that now had no face.
“Why have you come, Hunter?” No mouth opened as it spoke, instead a slow, grating whisper just emanated from the creature.
“Why are you killing these people? What have they done to you?” I stood facing the thing in a combat-ready stance. My hands open and ready to trigger my batons to drop into place at the first sign that it was done talking.
“It is time to Hunt again. Have you not heard the Call?” Its form shifted slightly, its arms grew slightly longer than would be normal for a human being of its height, its hands shifted into large, wicked looking claws.
“What Call is that?” I rose up on the balls of my feet and shifted my balance forward ever so slightly.
“The Call of the An’girasii, that which has not been uttered in over six hundred years, ever since the Burning Times. How can you not hear it, Brother?” It reached one razor sharp talon towards me slowly, pointing towards where my heart used to be. “Lord Dracaar walks the land once more. My Spirit sings with his Call. I feast so that I may grow strong enough to serve him once again! Shall we dine together tonight?”
I brushed the talon away with a sweep of my left arm while reaching up to the sheath across my back that was not actually present in the physical world. Somehow I didn’t think my batons would be of much use against this creature.
“Look buddy, I don’t hear any Call from Dracaar or anyone else, but I think you’ve had your last meal on this or any beach.”
It drew back from my brush off and gathered itself for a lunging attack, both clawed hands ready to strike with its leap.
It leapt before I could get my hand on the hilt of Excalibur, knocking me backwards onto my back in the wet sand. We became a tangle of grasping hands and claws, kicking legs and tussling forms in the gently rolling waves.
It wrestled with the strength of several men, moving lightning fast with the ferocity of natural predator as it tried to keep me from reaching the blade that it somehow knew was there.
“You are known to us, young Hunter. You have much to learn before you will inspire fear in any of us the way your Father did.” It was not straining to speak as we continued to wrestle, it continued to gain the upper hand, always anticipating my next attempt to wrest my hand free to reach for the blade.
“Drake was not my father, dammit!”
It gave off what could only be considered a chuckle as it leaned its grey, blank face close to mine. “It was only through him that you were born into this existence. He is your Father in every way that matters.”
I stopped struggling when I realized that this creature, this doppelganger, was sitting astride my chest in the shallow surf, holding me down, but not otherwise trying to harm me. I stared into its blank mask of a face, trying to pierce the veil into its Spirit. “Who or what exactly are you and why did you draw me here?”
Two pinpricks of red light grew into glowing orbs of eyes. “I am a humble Servant, a messenger, if you will. I have something for you.”
“What is it?”
It reached into the dark robes that I now realized it was wearing and drew out a rolled up piece of what looked like leather that was sealed by some sort of wax-like blob and placed it on my chest as it let go of my right arm with its other claw and stood up.
“Read this soon, it is a message for your eyes only. You will find the fifth and final victim a short ways down the beach. You will also find a suitably guilty killer alive next to the carcass. He will serve the needs of your human justice system well enough for now.”
“I can’t scapegoat some poor schmuck for your crimes!”
It stood over me, its eyes fading back into the grey of the mask. “Oh, I’ve chosen well for you. He’s killed far more of his fellow men than I have lately. If he weren’t so fallibly human, he might have been of more use to us. I have enjoyed this meeting young Hunter, until we meet again, fare thee well.”
I sat up, grabbing the thick leather scroll before it fell into the water. As I did, the creature faded into Shadow and was gone.
I got up, knocked some of the wet sand off of me and set off towards the site of the fifth victim a few hundred yards to the south. As promised, I found the fifth victim and a dazed man with the sickly Spirit of an unrepentant killer kneeling next to her. In one blood drenched hand he held the half eaten kidney of the young woman laid out, spread eagle on the bloodied sands of South Beach. His other hand was covered by bloody glove with jagged blades extending from the fingers.
I subdued the bastard with one quick blow to the back of his head with my fist and made the call for Agent Corrales to collect his prize for the dog and pony show that was sure to follow this arrest…
Thursday, November 23, 2006
Reasons to Be Thankful for Being (Un)Dead
On this Thanksgiving morning, let me list some of the reasons that I am thankful for being (un)dead:
1) I get to spend time with family again.
2) Being able to walk the Shadowland...a wondrously beautiful and dangerous place!
3) Appearances no longer matter--I'm dead, who cares how I look?
4) Low expecatations of others--hey, he's dead, we can't expect him to remember our birthdays or anniversaries.
5) The Rat Race has a completely new meaning--just stay ahead of the little buggers so they don't nibble off my ears!
6) Being able to stay up all night to watch the late games on the West Coast...and SportsCenter all night long!
7) Long, deep conversations with the Professor! (Go Tigers!)
8) Discovering a long lost Sister-in-Spirit in Ravyn and discovering her many wonderful qualities. (As well as Betsy!)
9) Seeing the Frau streaking through the woods as changes into Bear form. (Even if she did have to sit on me!)
10) Seeing from Cerrydwen that embracing the Shadow Within doesn't mean that you fall to Evil, that we each make the choice to Do Evil or to help others.
Here are some reasons to be less thankful for being (un)dead:
1) Coke and Mentos doesn't make much of a Thanksgiving feast!
2) Being unable to truly feel the touch of another person.
3) Knowing that in any given situation, I am pretty much the ugliest person in the room (or on the street, etc).
4) To finally discover what it is to be fully human, to be fully alive, after you are already dead.
5) To see a beautiful, nekkid, hindside of a ravishingly beautiful woman, and be completely unable to do anything about it!
Happy Thanksgiving to One and All!
1) I get to spend time with family again.
2) Being able to walk the Shadowland...a wondrously beautiful and dangerous place!
3) Appearances no longer matter--I'm dead, who cares how I look?
4) Low expecatations of others--hey, he's dead, we can't expect him to remember our birthdays or anniversaries.
5) The Rat Race has a completely new meaning--just stay ahead of the little buggers so they don't nibble off my ears!
6) Being able to stay up all night to watch the late games on the West Coast...and SportsCenter all night long!
7) Long, deep conversations with the Professor! (Go Tigers!)
8) Discovering a long lost Sister-in-Spirit in Ravyn and discovering her many wonderful qualities. (As well as Betsy!)
9) Seeing the Frau streaking through the woods as changes into Bear form. (Even if she did have to sit on me!)
10) Seeing from Cerrydwen that embracing the Shadow Within doesn't mean that you fall to Evil, that we each make the choice to Do Evil or to help others.
Here are some reasons to be less thankful for being (un)dead:
1) Coke and Mentos doesn't make much of a Thanksgiving feast!
2) Being unable to truly feel the touch of another person.
3) Knowing that in any given situation, I am pretty much the ugliest person in the room (or on the street, etc).
4) To finally discover what it is to be fully human, to be fully alive, after you are already dead.
5) To see a beautiful, nekkid, hindside of a ravishingly beautiful woman, and be completely unable to do anything about it!
Happy Thanksgiving to One and All!
Monday, November 20, 2006
South Beach Diet...Part 3
I slipped back into the Shadowland, hoping to catch a glimpse of my prey yet again, only to find that the creature had slipped away for the moment. I shifted back to normal vision, clenching my fist in frustration. I turned, stepped out into the street, easily slipping between the cars stuck in traffic. It was time to check out the beach. Once on the far side, I pulled the Shadow closer, hoping to use it for cover as I thought back to Corrales’ reaction to Jennifer’s shocking pronouncement.
“What do you mean by ‘not entirely human’? What else could the killer be? No animal would leave the victims spread out like that or draw those weird pictures next to the bodies.”
Jennifer nodded. Her medium length gray curls bounced as she did so. She pointed out items on her computer screen with her long elegant fingers as she spoke. “The pattern of the bodies and the symbols that are drawn has meaning, so it definitely isn’t an animal. But the way these people have been killed, it isn’t with a weapon. A knife, even a dull one, wouldn’t tear the flesh like was done on this victim and over here on this victim. These are wounds that have been made by claws of some kind, very sharp claws.”
“That doesn’t mean that some sicko hasn’t found a way to make a weapon that acts like a claw. Remember, we are in South Florida. We have more than our share of weirdos down here.”
She looked back at Corrales, her eyes intense behind her large glasses. “This killer is not your average weirdo, Miguel. There is something about the feel of this case…I believe that the missing organs of the victims have been removed for some important reason.” She shook her head violently as she contemplated the case, which sent her silver-gray curls flying. When she started speaking again her words spilled out in ever faster sentences. “I just don’t think a human killer would have been capable of doing everything this killer did to each victim in such a short time in place where someone could come up on them at any time. The evidence is here Miguel. These people were killed on this beach. They each walked to the spot of their death with someone else who was clearly human at that time, but the tracks leading away from the site are not human. Each victim is missing an organ, a different organ from any of the other victims.”
Both Miguel and I just sat there watching and listening as she ran through the evidence as she spoke, clicking on a photo here, flipping past a slide there, all at the same speed she was talking. It all came so fast that it took us a moment to catch up to her when she had stopped, glancing between the two of us. She was the first speak again, but only as she reach over to click on the final slide in her presentation.
“I think the killer is a doppelganger.”
To be honest, I wasn’t that shocked. I had been following her points fairly closely and had already come to the conclusion that this killer was not your run-of-the-mill psychopath.
Miguel broke out in laughter, slapping his forehead. “You almost had me there, girl! I haven’t heard that word in over twenty year…doppelganger indeed. I remember those creatures from my role-playing days. So, now that you’ve had your little joke at my expense, what’s your real theory?”
Corrales had gone from side-splitting laughter to serious-as-a-heart-attack in the span of ten seconds. He looked from Jennifer to me and back to Jennifer.
“I wasn’t joking Miguel. That’s why I asked for Agent Bones to be here as well. He has considerable…experience…with creatures like this.”
His expression went from serious to confusion as he tried to make sense of this.
I slid my chair over to be close to him and looked him in the eye. I reached out and gently but firmly brought his right hand up to my neck. He was so confused that he didn’t even try to resist.
“Miguel, I not this ugly because of some crazy disease or any botched plastic surgery. I know you look at me and you think you see just a deformed person; at least once you try to process that information. But your true first reaction, the reaction you have before your brain dismissed it out of hand, is that I look like a zombie, that I look like a walking dead man. Well guess what? Your first impulse is right. Feel my right there where the carotid artery should be. No pulse. Feel how cold and clammy my skin is? I’ve got the flesh of a dead man because that’s what I am.”
“But…but…” He jerked his hand away, wiped it on his Armani pants as if they were dirty jeans and as if the feel of Death could be wiped off like a smudge of dirt.
I nodded. “I know. You see, I’ve found that I can walk around with less and less make-up than my makers ever thought I could because people see me for who I am at first glance, but then dismiss the mere thought of an undead zombie as either a good Halloween costume, or some weird skin disease, or a botched surgery or two. The human mind doesn’t deal well with things that don’t fit neatly inside the niches that it has assigned to them to. Simply because everyone knows that monsters such as zombies and vampires and…doppelgangers…their own minds fool them into believing that the thing they just saw with their own eyes was something else entirely.”
He looked shaken, to say the least. I put one hand to try and steady him, but he cringed, so I pulled it back with a shrug.
“Like Jennifer says, I do have some rather specialized knowledge and experience about creatures like this killer of yours. I agree with her profile in that I don’t think you are dealing with a human killer here. But why this thing is killing people like this, so publicly, so quickly, that I don’t know. I’m going to have to try and track it for awhile. I will need to spend time where it has been hunting. I need to see what it is seeing and see if I can discern its real purpose before it actually kills again. I will start tonight, since that is when it is active, at night.”
Jennifer was nodding as I spoke. She really looked pleased that I agreed with her profile so far.
Miguel, on the other hand, was looking almost as pale as I did. He was looking at me, listening to me, but with the vacant kind of stare that told me that his understanding of the world had just been turned upside down.
“Jennifer, make sure that the Bureau communicates with the local police. They should maintain the same vigilant presence that they’ve had in place for the last week, but I don’t want anyone else trying to cover for me. I need to hunt this thing in my own way. I don’t want to spook it, unless we absolutely have to in order to save a life…”
Standing on the edge of Light and Night, of City and Beach, I was in Shadow. A watchful, vigilant Shade that moved from one world to the next with the ease of a moth flitting around a light bulb, one moment fully visible and real, the next moment a figment of the imagination.
In this new quasi-state of being, I could walk among the evening revelers leaving no more memory of my passing than that of a strange, cold shiver that caused a tingle along the spine and raised the hairs on the back of the neck.
The Hunt continued…
“What do you mean by ‘not entirely human’? What else could the killer be? No animal would leave the victims spread out like that or draw those weird pictures next to the bodies.”
Jennifer nodded. Her medium length gray curls bounced as she did so. She pointed out items on her computer screen with her long elegant fingers as she spoke. “The pattern of the bodies and the symbols that are drawn has meaning, so it definitely isn’t an animal. But the way these people have been killed, it isn’t with a weapon. A knife, even a dull one, wouldn’t tear the flesh like was done on this victim and over here on this victim. These are wounds that have been made by claws of some kind, very sharp claws.”
“That doesn’t mean that some sicko hasn’t found a way to make a weapon that acts like a claw. Remember, we are in South Florida. We have more than our share of weirdos down here.”
She looked back at Corrales, her eyes intense behind her large glasses. “This killer is not your average weirdo, Miguel. There is something about the feel of this case…I believe that the missing organs of the victims have been removed for some important reason.” She shook her head violently as she contemplated the case, which sent her silver-gray curls flying. When she started speaking again her words spilled out in ever faster sentences. “I just don’t think a human killer would have been capable of doing everything this killer did to each victim in such a short time in place where someone could come up on them at any time. The evidence is here Miguel. These people were killed on this beach. They each walked to the spot of their death with someone else who was clearly human at that time, but the tracks leading away from the site are not human. Each victim is missing an organ, a different organ from any of the other victims.”
Both Miguel and I just sat there watching and listening as she ran through the evidence as she spoke, clicking on a photo here, flipping past a slide there, all at the same speed she was talking. It all came so fast that it took us a moment to catch up to her when she had stopped, glancing between the two of us. She was the first speak again, but only as she reach over to click on the final slide in her presentation.
“I think the killer is a doppelganger.”
To be honest, I wasn’t that shocked. I had been following her points fairly closely and had already come to the conclusion that this killer was not your run-of-the-mill psychopath.
Miguel broke out in laughter, slapping his forehead. “You almost had me there, girl! I haven’t heard that word in over twenty year…doppelganger indeed. I remember those creatures from my role-playing days. So, now that you’ve had your little joke at my expense, what’s your real theory?”
Corrales had gone from side-splitting laughter to serious-as-a-heart-attack in the span of ten seconds. He looked from Jennifer to me and back to Jennifer.
“I wasn’t joking Miguel. That’s why I asked for Agent Bones to be here as well. He has considerable…experience…with creatures like this.”
His expression went from serious to confusion as he tried to make sense of this.
I slid my chair over to be close to him and looked him in the eye. I reached out and gently but firmly brought his right hand up to my neck. He was so confused that he didn’t even try to resist.
“Miguel, I not this ugly because of some crazy disease or any botched plastic surgery. I know you look at me and you think you see just a deformed person; at least once you try to process that information. But your true first reaction, the reaction you have before your brain dismissed it out of hand, is that I look like a zombie, that I look like a walking dead man. Well guess what? Your first impulse is right. Feel my right there where the carotid artery should be. No pulse. Feel how cold and clammy my skin is? I’ve got the flesh of a dead man because that’s what I am.”
“But…but…” He jerked his hand away, wiped it on his Armani pants as if they were dirty jeans and as if the feel of Death could be wiped off like a smudge of dirt.
I nodded. “I know. You see, I’ve found that I can walk around with less and less make-up than my makers ever thought I could because people see me for who I am at first glance, but then dismiss the mere thought of an undead zombie as either a good Halloween costume, or some weird skin disease, or a botched surgery or two. The human mind doesn’t deal well with things that don’t fit neatly inside the niches that it has assigned to them to. Simply because everyone knows that monsters such as zombies and vampires and…doppelgangers…their own minds fool them into believing that the thing they just saw with their own eyes was something else entirely.”
He looked shaken, to say the least. I put one hand to try and steady him, but he cringed, so I pulled it back with a shrug.
“Like Jennifer says, I do have some rather specialized knowledge and experience about creatures like this killer of yours. I agree with her profile in that I don’t think you are dealing with a human killer here. But why this thing is killing people like this, so publicly, so quickly, that I don’t know. I’m going to have to try and track it for awhile. I will need to spend time where it has been hunting. I need to see what it is seeing and see if I can discern its real purpose before it actually kills again. I will start tonight, since that is when it is active, at night.”
Jennifer was nodding as I spoke. She really looked pleased that I agreed with her profile so far.
Miguel, on the other hand, was looking almost as pale as I did. He was looking at me, listening to me, but with the vacant kind of stare that told me that his understanding of the world had just been turned upside down.
“Jennifer, make sure that the Bureau communicates with the local police. They should maintain the same vigilant presence that they’ve had in place for the last week, but I don’t want anyone else trying to cover for me. I need to hunt this thing in my own way. I don’t want to spook it, unless we absolutely have to in order to save a life…”
Standing on the edge of Light and Night, of City and Beach, I was in Shadow. A watchful, vigilant Shade that moved from one world to the next with the ease of a moth flitting around a light bulb, one moment fully visible and real, the next moment a figment of the imagination.
In this new quasi-state of being, I could walk among the evening revelers leaving no more memory of my passing than that of a strange, cold shiver that caused a tingle along the spine and raised the hairs on the back of the neck.
The Hunt continued…
Friday, November 17, 2006
South Beach Diet...Part 2
Shaking my head as I stepped over the puddle of fermented vomit, I emerged from the darkness of the small alley and entered the pulsating stream of human sexuality that was the South Beach night life.
If the dress code of the partying crowd was any indication, it was about 80 degrees and humid out. Even the bikini clad gals and the bare-chested young studs were shiny with beaded sweat. I was, of course, the lone exception. I was wearing a lightweight, black windbreaker over a loose black sweatshirt. My sturdy jeans were properly distressed while my heavy black steel-toed work boots were brand new.
While preening, inebriated minnows darted and dodged all around me, I was the plodding, brooding predator seeking others who might be trolling for prey.
As chaotic and colorful as the neon, Art Deco scene was in normal vision, it was bland compared to the ever changing arrays of color displayed by the Spirit forms of the overflowing crowd. In the last year I had gotten much better at switching my vision from the mundane to the Shadowland while continuing to navigate physically through the mundane world.
It was so easy to scan crowds this way that I could almost operate on auto-pilot. If Agent Wilson had been right, the creatures that I was looking for would be far more likely to stand out in the Shadowland than they would in the mundane:
I made my appearance the next morning in the Flagler Federal Law Center where the Bureau had their main office in Miami. My ‘flight’ had been quick and hassle free. Agent Corrales met me in the spacious lobby on the first floor before taking me up the thirtieth floor meeting room that had a breathtaking view of Miami Beach across the bay and the sparkling ocean beyond that. Jennifer and a small cadre of forensic techs were waiting for me with all of the photographs and collected evidence laid out on the expansive conference table.
The photographs of the four victims, two men and two women, were gruesome. Each of the victims lay spread eagle on their backs, with arms outstretched and their guts ripped open.
My entrance stopped all discussion as each person took stock of me. Corrales had hid his reaction well down in the lobby, but that had more to do with the fact that I had waited in one of the darker areas for him to come find me. Even though I had my standard makeup job to cover up the worst of my appearance, it was getting harder and harder to disguise the fact that I now had a seriously ugly mug.
Jennifer got up from her seat at the table where she had been typing on her laptop and approached me, hand extended. “Rusty, thanks for coming so quickly.”
I shook her hand, carefully. “No problem, Jennifer. I hope that I can be of help to you.”
Corrales came up beside me, careful not to get too close to me. “Agent Wilson here has been singing your praises, Agent Bones. We certainly hope that you can help us resolve this case before the press eats us alive.” His eyes narrowed. “I didn’t see much in your Bureau profile though about building profiles.”
Jennifer cleared her throat, looked back at the various techs who had been watching our exchange. “Rusty’s skills are rather unique, Miguel, and his full profile is classified. Can we clear the room? The information we are about to discuss is to shared on a need-to-know basis only.”
“I see.” He looked sharply over at the techs. They got the point and began to shuffle from the room; more than one of them looked relieved. “May I presume that I am allowed to stay?”
Jennifer nodded and sat back down in her chair while pointing out two others to be pulled up. “Of course you are Miguel. You are the lead agent on this case, after all.”
We both sat down as she pulled up a presentation that she had been working on. Once the room was clear except for the three of us and the doors had been shut, she began to speak again.
“Miguel, as I’ve told you before, I can’t build an accurate profile of the killer in this case based on the facts that we have accumulated to date. What I haven’t told you yet is that I am pretty sure that the killer is not entirely human…”
The flashback was interrupted as I caught a glimpse of someone, something, in the crowd that didn’t fit. The Spirit form of the being stood out from the large cluster of younger, brighter Spirits gathered outside of a particularly flashy nightclub. It was a darker, smaller form than those of most humans, and it felt my presence as I honed in on it.
The small head of the form swiveled in my direction as soon as I locked my gaze onto it. Two laser red eyes locked onto me for the briefest of moments before a massive explosion of intense light knocked me from the Shadowland and back into the realm of normal vision.
The crowd was milling about, oblivious to the dance between two Hunters as I tried to associate the out of place Spirit form I had seen with the right physical body in the swirling, dancing, flirting mass of humanity.
With all of the glances of fear, disgust, and disdain that I was getting, I couldn’t pinpoint my prey just yet. I was reasonably certain, however, that I stood out well enough to let my prey know that he or she wasn’t alone at the top of the food chain any more.
The minnows danced and darted about, too exhilarated by Life to realize that the true dance of Death had only just begun.
If the dress code of the partying crowd was any indication, it was about 80 degrees and humid out. Even the bikini clad gals and the bare-chested young studs were shiny with beaded sweat. I was, of course, the lone exception. I was wearing a lightweight, black windbreaker over a loose black sweatshirt. My sturdy jeans were properly distressed while my heavy black steel-toed work boots were brand new.
While preening, inebriated minnows darted and dodged all around me, I was the plodding, brooding predator seeking others who might be trolling for prey.
As chaotic and colorful as the neon, Art Deco scene was in normal vision, it was bland compared to the ever changing arrays of color displayed by the Spirit forms of the overflowing crowd. In the last year I had gotten much better at switching my vision from the mundane to the Shadowland while continuing to navigate physically through the mundane world.
It was so easy to scan crowds this way that I could almost operate on auto-pilot. If Agent Wilson had been right, the creatures that I was looking for would be far more likely to stand out in the Shadowland than they would in the mundane:
I made my appearance the next morning in the Flagler Federal Law Center where the Bureau had their main office in Miami. My ‘flight’ had been quick and hassle free. Agent Corrales met me in the spacious lobby on the first floor before taking me up the thirtieth floor meeting room that had a breathtaking view of Miami Beach across the bay and the sparkling ocean beyond that. Jennifer and a small cadre of forensic techs were waiting for me with all of the photographs and collected evidence laid out on the expansive conference table.
The photographs of the four victims, two men and two women, were gruesome. Each of the victims lay spread eagle on their backs, with arms outstretched and their guts ripped open.
My entrance stopped all discussion as each person took stock of me. Corrales had hid his reaction well down in the lobby, but that had more to do with the fact that I had waited in one of the darker areas for him to come find me. Even though I had my standard makeup job to cover up the worst of my appearance, it was getting harder and harder to disguise the fact that I now had a seriously ugly mug.
Jennifer got up from her seat at the table where she had been typing on her laptop and approached me, hand extended. “Rusty, thanks for coming so quickly.”
I shook her hand, carefully. “No problem, Jennifer. I hope that I can be of help to you.”
Corrales came up beside me, careful not to get too close to me. “Agent Wilson here has been singing your praises, Agent Bones. We certainly hope that you can help us resolve this case before the press eats us alive.” His eyes narrowed. “I didn’t see much in your Bureau profile though about building profiles.”
Jennifer cleared her throat, looked back at the various techs who had been watching our exchange. “Rusty’s skills are rather unique, Miguel, and his full profile is classified. Can we clear the room? The information we are about to discuss is to shared on a need-to-know basis only.”
“I see.” He looked sharply over at the techs. They got the point and began to shuffle from the room; more than one of them looked relieved. “May I presume that I am allowed to stay?”
Jennifer nodded and sat back down in her chair while pointing out two others to be pulled up. “Of course you are Miguel. You are the lead agent on this case, after all.”
We both sat down as she pulled up a presentation that she had been working on. Once the room was clear except for the three of us and the doors had been shut, she began to speak again.
“Miguel, as I’ve told you before, I can’t build an accurate profile of the killer in this case based on the facts that we have accumulated to date. What I haven’t told you yet is that I am pretty sure that the killer is not entirely human…”
The flashback was interrupted as I caught a glimpse of someone, something, in the crowd that didn’t fit. The Spirit form of the being stood out from the large cluster of younger, brighter Spirits gathered outside of a particularly flashy nightclub. It was a darker, smaller form than those of most humans, and it felt my presence as I honed in on it.
The small head of the form swiveled in my direction as soon as I locked my gaze onto it. Two laser red eyes locked onto me for the briefest of moments before a massive explosion of intense light knocked me from the Shadowland and back into the realm of normal vision.
The crowd was milling about, oblivious to the dance between two Hunters as I tried to associate the out of place Spirit form I had seen with the right physical body in the swirling, dancing, flirting mass of humanity.
With all of the glances of fear, disgust, and disdain that I was getting, I couldn’t pinpoint my prey just yet. I was reasonably certain, however, that I stood out well enough to let my prey know that he or she wasn’t alone at the top of the food chain any more.
The minnows danced and darted about, too exhilarated by Life to realize that the true dance of Death had only just begun.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
South Beach Diet...Part 1
I emerged from the Shadow into a dark side alley. I stopped at the end of the alley for a moment to take in the festive scene of a typical South Beach evening—pounding music, snarled traffic, pulsing neon lights, and a throbbing crowd of underdressed people of all races, genders and orientations milling about happily trolling for their next fling.
The call for assistance had come earlier in the afternoon from the Miami office of the Bureau:
“Hello.”
“This is Special Agent Miguel Corrales from the Miami Office, are you Agent Rusty Bones?”
“Yeah, that would be me. What can I do for you Agent Corrales?”
“Well, uh, we’re having a bit of a problem down here and we’re hoping that you might be able to help us to solve it.”
“What kind of problem are you having?”
“Well, um, it’s kind of hard to explain without sounding…ridiculous.”
I laughed. “Don’t worry about that Agent Corrales. I specialize in handling problems that sound ridiculous to most people. Tell me what you got going on.”
“You’ve probably seen some of our problem on the news, if you watch that stuff. We have someone, or something that is stalking and killing people here near South Beach.”
There had been a few news stories about a series of gruesome killings in Miami Beach lately. I hadn’t really paid attention to the stories, so I didn’t know too many details, other than that the mutilated bodies of young, otherwise healthy young people were turning up on the beaches of that city’s hottest nightspots, only to be discovered in the early morning hours.
“I’ve seen some of the coverage, yes. Looks like you might have a serial killer of some sort who has become active down there. But the Bureau has better people than me to create a profile of potential serial killers.”
“Yeah, well that’s just it. We’ve had a profiler brought in from Quantico already, Jennifer Wilson, she’s looked at everything, including the details that haven’t been released for the media outlets and she swears that the facts aren’t fitting any into any of her profile models. She gave me you name and number and suggested that I give you a call.”
I remembered Jennifer. She was a bright young agent who had sought me out on one of my many trips to Washington in the last few months. She had been one of Ravyn’s students a few years back. She had the natural talent to be a full fledged Caster and had been offered a position within the ORC’s, but had decided to pursue a career in law enforcement. She was now a rising star within the Bureau using her Talent and her training to build profiles of serial killers. She hadn’t been wrong yet. If she was stumped, this was serious.
“OK, I’m listening. What details have you guys kept from the press?”
“Well, all of the victims were badly mutilated, that much has been made public. But what wasn’t released is that each victim was missing a particular organ. We’ve also found blood and other…evidence that wasn’t from any of the victims at each site.”
“What kind of evidence?”
“Fluids that we can’t identify, strange looking symbols drawn in the sand near each body. Tracks going away from the sites of the killings always lead to the ocean.”
“And Agent Wilson said that she couldn’t create a profile from this?”
A young woman in a skimpy bikini top and a multi-colored sarong staggered to the edge of the alley where I was hidden and retched onto the ground, interrupting my reverie. She looked up from my puke spattered boots, staggering up to one knee. “Hey buddy, whatcha doin’ back there?” As her eyes traveled upward from my boots, her eyes grew wide. She got up quickly and stumbled off to rejoin her friends.
The call for assistance had come earlier in the afternoon from the Miami office of the Bureau:
“Hello.”
“This is Special Agent Miguel Corrales from the Miami Office, are you Agent Rusty Bones?”
“Yeah, that would be me. What can I do for you Agent Corrales?”
“Well, uh, we’re having a bit of a problem down here and we’re hoping that you might be able to help us to solve it.”
“What kind of problem are you having?”
“Well, um, it’s kind of hard to explain without sounding…ridiculous.”
I laughed. “Don’t worry about that Agent Corrales. I specialize in handling problems that sound ridiculous to most people. Tell me what you got going on.”
“You’ve probably seen some of our problem on the news, if you watch that stuff. We have someone, or something that is stalking and killing people here near South Beach.”
There had been a few news stories about a series of gruesome killings in Miami Beach lately. I hadn’t really paid attention to the stories, so I didn’t know too many details, other than that the mutilated bodies of young, otherwise healthy young people were turning up on the beaches of that city’s hottest nightspots, only to be discovered in the early morning hours.
“I’ve seen some of the coverage, yes. Looks like you might have a serial killer of some sort who has become active down there. But the Bureau has better people than me to create a profile of potential serial killers.”
“Yeah, well that’s just it. We’ve had a profiler brought in from Quantico already, Jennifer Wilson, she’s looked at everything, including the details that haven’t been released for the media outlets and she swears that the facts aren’t fitting any into any of her profile models. She gave me you name and number and suggested that I give you a call.”
I remembered Jennifer. She was a bright young agent who had sought me out on one of my many trips to Washington in the last few months. She had been one of Ravyn’s students a few years back. She had the natural talent to be a full fledged Caster and had been offered a position within the ORC’s, but had decided to pursue a career in law enforcement. She was now a rising star within the Bureau using her Talent and her training to build profiles of serial killers. She hadn’t been wrong yet. If she was stumped, this was serious.
“OK, I’m listening. What details have you guys kept from the press?”
“Well, all of the victims were badly mutilated, that much has been made public. But what wasn’t released is that each victim was missing a particular organ. We’ve also found blood and other…evidence that wasn’t from any of the victims at each site.”
“What kind of evidence?”
“Fluids that we can’t identify, strange looking symbols drawn in the sand near each body. Tracks going away from the sites of the killings always lead to the ocean.”
“And Agent Wilson said that she couldn’t create a profile from this?”
A young woman in a skimpy bikini top and a multi-colored sarong staggered to the edge of the alley where I was hidden and retched onto the ground, interrupting my reverie. She looked up from my puke spattered boots, staggering up to one knee. “Hey buddy, whatcha doin’ back there?” As her eyes traveled upward from my boots, her eyes grew wide. She got up quickly and stumbled off to rejoin her friends.
Saturday, November 11, 2006
Zulu's Message
Dear Rusty,
As requested, here is a brief description of some of the loans that Bone Financial has detailed in its SEC application and promotional material. The material is all part of the public domain at this time, available upon request to any interested party. Quoted sections are taken verbatim from Bone Financial documents.
“The Bone Financial Life Loan is the ideal financial instrument for applicants who are highly skilled, white collar professionals that are working in industries that are undergoing significant economic disturbance, such as the auto industry.”
The Life Loan is designed to be the main financial product that keeps the company in the public eye. The premise for this loan is that the eligible applicant receives a temptingly sizable lump sum of money that they can anything they want with. They can use it to pay off mortgages, consolidate bills, to take large vacations, purchase businesses or other large ticket items that enable the beneficiary of the loan to seemingly change their lives in a qualitative way. The borrower then has a choice to make either monthly or quarterly payments to pay the interest on that lump sum. The size of those payments is of course dependent on the interest rate assigned to the loan, which is derived using a formula based on a number of factors such as the credit rating of the individual, their current income, their total asset/liability ratio and their expected lifespan.
“The true beauty of the Life Loan, and perhaps its most appealing feature for many borrowers, is that the payments remain relatively low because the borrower only has to the interest during their life.”
The balance of the loan is collected from the estate of the borrower. The borrower is required to maintain a term life insurance policy for the full amount of the loan balance plus a premium of at least 25%.
While the Life Loan is the product that is most prominently featured in their literature, the more puzzling product is almost hidden in dismissive footnotes as a philanthropic outreach program. This ‘product’ is called a ‘pre-mortem purchase agreement’ or a PMPA.
PMPA’s are essentially arrangements where Bone Financial purchases the rights a person’s body after they die. The literature is unclear on exactly why Bone Financial would pay out money to buy the rights to dead bodies, especially prior to the death of the individual in question, but they do make vague allusions to using the bodies for ‘scientific research.’ The customer sells away all rights to their body after death.
As part of the PMPA, the person who is selling the rights to their body receives a lump sum payment—the size of which is based on a formula that the company refuses to divulge based on ‘trade secrets’—that payment though will be reduced if the person wishes to retain the services of a Certified Mortuary Assistant who would plan and conduct the appropriate memorial service for the decedent when that time comes.
As you can see, our friends at Bone Financial have put considerable thought into this set-up and have figured out how to legally acquire a large number of dead bodies to which they will have full legal rights to use as they deem appropriate, although I would anticipate that there will be some local resistance to any facility that will be used as a warehouse for these cadavers.
I will continue to look for information that may be of value to you and your friends, but I want you to keep in mind that you will not have any support from the Bureau or the DOJ, so be very careful.
Take care,
Zulu
As requested, here is a brief description of some of the loans that Bone Financial has detailed in its SEC application and promotional material. The material is all part of the public domain at this time, available upon request to any interested party. Quoted sections are taken verbatim from Bone Financial documents.
“The Bone Financial Life Loan is the ideal financial instrument for applicants who are highly skilled, white collar professionals that are working in industries that are undergoing significant economic disturbance, such as the auto industry.”
The Life Loan is designed to be the main financial product that keeps the company in the public eye. The premise for this loan is that the eligible applicant receives a temptingly sizable lump sum of money that they can anything they want with. They can use it to pay off mortgages, consolidate bills, to take large vacations, purchase businesses or other large ticket items that enable the beneficiary of the loan to seemingly change their lives in a qualitative way. The borrower then has a choice to make either monthly or quarterly payments to pay the interest on that lump sum. The size of those payments is of course dependent on the interest rate assigned to the loan, which is derived using a formula based on a number of factors such as the credit rating of the individual, their current income, their total asset/liability ratio and their expected lifespan.
“The true beauty of the Life Loan, and perhaps its most appealing feature for many borrowers, is that the payments remain relatively low because the borrower only has to the interest during their life.”
The balance of the loan is collected from the estate of the borrower. The borrower is required to maintain a term life insurance policy for the full amount of the loan balance plus a premium of at least 25%.
While the Life Loan is the product that is most prominently featured in their literature, the more puzzling product is almost hidden in dismissive footnotes as a philanthropic outreach program. This ‘product’ is called a ‘pre-mortem purchase agreement’ or a PMPA.
PMPA’s are essentially arrangements where Bone Financial purchases the rights a person’s body after they die. The literature is unclear on exactly why Bone Financial would pay out money to buy the rights to dead bodies, especially prior to the death of the individual in question, but they do make vague allusions to using the bodies for ‘scientific research.’ The customer sells away all rights to their body after death.
As part of the PMPA, the person who is selling the rights to their body receives a lump sum payment—the size of which is based on a formula that the company refuses to divulge based on ‘trade secrets’—that payment though will be reduced if the person wishes to retain the services of a Certified Mortuary Assistant who would plan and conduct the appropriate memorial service for the decedent when that time comes.
As you can see, our friends at Bone Financial have put considerable thought into this set-up and have figured out how to legally acquire a large number of dead bodies to which they will have full legal rights to use as they deem appropriate, although I would anticipate that there will be some local resistance to any facility that will be used as a warehouse for these cadavers.
I will continue to look for information that may be of value to you and your friends, but I want you to keep in mind that you will not have any support from the Bureau or the DOJ, so be very careful.
Take care,
Zulu
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Sunny Daze
(This post is dedicated in loving memory to Mrs. Helen Hakes, a kind and loving soul who passed to soon.)
Unpacking a box of belongings that my ex-wife had placed in storage when she had sold our old home and moved to Phoenix Coop, I stumbled across an old, battered rag doll with a dull green dress and a smiling face framed with faded yellow sunflower petals.
The doll brought a smile to my face. Sunny. Sunny Daze. That was the name that my daughter Jasmine had given her when she received her as a Christmas present when she was four years old by our neighbor at the time, Mrs. Hanes.
Jasmine had so many stuffed animals and dolls at that time, but Sunny had been one of her favorites. She was the simplest of toys, her dress was sewn on tight, so she couldn’t be undressed like Jasmine’s Barbie dolls could, but there was something special about that doll and her smile.
I picked up the soft, limp doll, remembering the way that my daughter’s eyes had lit up when she opened the box containing Sunny. The name leaped from her lips as if they had been old friends, just reunited. I don’t think she put her down for three days after receiving her.
The dress was stained in the front from what looked like fruit punch, and one petal was now missing, but somehow that just increased her charm.
Mrs. Hanes had smiled and nodded her head when she heard how much Jasmine had liked the doll. “I’m so glad. She’s just like a doll I had when I was a little girl. We didn’t have much when I was young, but I always had a friend that I could talk to when I had my raggedy doll.”
We only lived next to Mrs. Hanes for a couple of years before we were able to buy a bigger house in a better neighborhood, but the memory of Mrs. Hanes brought a smile to my face. She was the kind of person that I watched out for as a beat cop. She was a feisty widow who lived on her own in a home full of knickknacks and memories.
Despite having the use of only one arm, she was determined to ignore her disability as she went about her daily tasks. Her husband had passed some years before we moved next door, but I felt like I knew him well, since she was always eager to proudly show her old family pictures and tell stories about their lives together.
She was even more eager though, to show the newspaper clippings and photos of her pride and joy, her son. She was so proud of his accomplishments that tears formed in her eyes whenever she spoke of him.
Looking into the smiling face of Sunny, I thought of the love that Mrs. Hanes gave and the way that she always remembered our kids’ birthdays and our wedding anniversary. It wasn’t a true holiday season until we received the traditional Christmas card from Mrs. Hanes.
When I called Jasmine to tell that I had found Sunny again, I could hear her voice light up over the phone. “You found Sunny? Wow, I had wondered where she went!”
“Do you want me to bring her to you, Jazz?”
“You know what, Dad? I think Sunny would be something that would be perfect for Alexa.”
“Are you sure Jazz? I know how much you loved this doll.”
“I think that Mrs. Hanes would approve Dad. I miss her.”
“Who, Sunny or Mrs. Hanes?”
She laughed. “Silly! I miss Mrs. Hanes.”
“Me too, Jazz. Me too. Say hello to your mother and Ms. Fyre for me, won’t you?”
“Sure thing. Bye Dad!”
I held the small, soft doll carefully in my hand as I hung up the cell phone with the other hand. It was amazing to think that such a small thing could mean so much, could represent so many memories and so much love.
Just like there could never be too much love in life, there could never be enough Sunny Daze. It was good to be reminded of that once in a while.
I sent a silent prayer of thanks to Mrs. Hanes for her many gifts.
Unpacking a box of belongings that my ex-wife had placed in storage when she had sold our old home and moved to Phoenix Coop, I stumbled across an old, battered rag doll with a dull green dress and a smiling face framed with faded yellow sunflower petals.
The doll brought a smile to my face. Sunny. Sunny Daze. That was the name that my daughter Jasmine had given her when she received her as a Christmas present when she was four years old by our neighbor at the time, Mrs. Hanes.
Jasmine had so many stuffed animals and dolls at that time, but Sunny had been one of her favorites. She was the simplest of toys, her dress was sewn on tight, so she couldn’t be undressed like Jasmine’s Barbie dolls could, but there was something special about that doll and her smile.
I picked up the soft, limp doll, remembering the way that my daughter’s eyes had lit up when she opened the box containing Sunny. The name leaped from her lips as if they had been old friends, just reunited. I don’t think she put her down for three days after receiving her.
The dress was stained in the front from what looked like fruit punch, and one petal was now missing, but somehow that just increased her charm.
Mrs. Hanes had smiled and nodded her head when she heard how much Jasmine had liked the doll. “I’m so glad. She’s just like a doll I had when I was a little girl. We didn’t have much when I was young, but I always had a friend that I could talk to when I had my raggedy doll.”
We only lived next to Mrs. Hanes for a couple of years before we were able to buy a bigger house in a better neighborhood, but the memory of Mrs. Hanes brought a smile to my face. She was the kind of person that I watched out for as a beat cop. She was a feisty widow who lived on her own in a home full of knickknacks and memories.
Despite having the use of only one arm, she was determined to ignore her disability as she went about her daily tasks. Her husband had passed some years before we moved next door, but I felt like I knew him well, since she was always eager to proudly show her old family pictures and tell stories about their lives together.
She was even more eager though, to show the newspaper clippings and photos of her pride and joy, her son. She was so proud of his accomplishments that tears formed in her eyes whenever she spoke of him.
Looking into the smiling face of Sunny, I thought of the love that Mrs. Hanes gave and the way that she always remembered our kids’ birthdays and our wedding anniversary. It wasn’t a true holiday season until we received the traditional Christmas card from Mrs. Hanes.
When I called Jasmine to tell that I had found Sunny again, I could hear her voice light up over the phone. “You found Sunny? Wow, I had wondered where she went!”
“Do you want me to bring her to you, Jazz?”
“You know what, Dad? I think Sunny would be something that would be perfect for Alexa.”
“Are you sure Jazz? I know how much you loved this doll.”
“I think that Mrs. Hanes would approve Dad. I miss her.”
“Who, Sunny or Mrs. Hanes?”
She laughed. “Silly! I miss Mrs. Hanes.”
“Me too, Jazz. Me too. Say hello to your mother and Ms. Fyre for me, won’t you?”
“Sure thing. Bye Dad!”
I held the small, soft doll carefully in my hand as I hung up the cell phone with the other hand. It was amazing to think that such a small thing could mean so much, could represent so many memories and so much love.
Just like there could never be too much love in life, there could never be enough Sunny Daze. It was good to be reminded of that once in a while.
I sent a silent prayer of thanks to Mrs. Hanes for her many gifts.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Chilled to the Bone
“I’m sorry, Rusty, but Dick Arnold has found some very strong backers within the administration. I’m afraid that there is nothing that we can hang an investigation on at this time.” I could hear the strain in Zulu’s voice even over the phone.
“OK, so I can’t use any Bureau resources, but you aren’t saying that I can’t look into things on my own are you?”
He sighed and took a moment before answering. “Your time is your own to do with as you please, when you are not otherwise on assignment…”
“Good. I’ll keep the Bureau out of this until I come up with something substantial.”
“Rusty…”
“It’s OK. I’m getting pretty damn good at keeping things separate when they need to be, I’ll be careful.”
“Rusty, you need to listen for a moment. This has gone higher than I would have thought possible. I tried everything I could do to get Arnold indicted as part of the cleanup of the Omega Project. But this Arnold has allies at the highest level of this administration. They worked behind the scenes to quash all of my efforts. The firm that represented him is chock full of former prosecutors and Justice Department policy makers, many of them from my former staff. Instead of getting indicted, Arnold has come out of this affair looking like a hero. I don’t know that you are going to be able to bring the Bureau in on this case at any point, especially if you result to any extra-legal means of gathering that evidence.”
“Well, I do know that he is back in business and that he needs to be stopped. Have you seen that damn commercial, that Bone Financial commercial?”
He sighed again. “Yes. It’s playing in every major media market in the country. I am hearing that there are offices scheduled to open in each of those markets within the next 90 days.”
“There’s something really fishy with this whole Bone Financial business. I know that prick, El Diablito, is involved in this as well. I don’t understand how they claim to be making any money at this whole post-mortem mortgage thing, do you?”
Zulu cleared his throat before he spoke. “I’ve seen some of the documents that they filed with the SEC, but I can’t claim to truly understand how this whole scheme works.”
“Can you at least tell me what you do understand?”
“Yes. I’ll e-mail you a summary of the key points of their various products and the spin they place on them in the SEC filings. The information is publicly available, so there is no concern in sharing it with you. Before I hang up though, I want to make it very clear to you, Rusty, that you need and your friends need to be exceptionally careful with any investigation that you engage in. Dick Arnold knows about you and I’m sure that he is taking precautions against any intervention that may attempt. Arnold may well have suspicions about me now. I’m quite sure that Arnold has the money and connections to employ agents of his own who will prove to be formidable adversaries. You will not have the backing or the support of the Bureau, so be careful. I will not be able to bail you or your friends out of any jams. Do you understand?”
“I do. Don’t worry, Boss, we can handle ourselves just fine. Oh, before I go, I do want to give you a heads up about something as well.”
“Oh?”
“You’ve read our report on Drake’s demise, right?”
He paused again. “Yes.”
“Well, I’ve had the task of hearing his damn story, and I can tell you that we’re going to be hearing from his father, Dracaar, sooner rather than later. I’m going to send you a message about some artifacts that are being held in various museums around the world. You might want to see that some extra security is quietly put in place at these places. I don’t know if we’ll be able to prevent them from being taken at some point, but we’re going to need to know when this stuff starts disappearing. That will be among the first signs that Dracaar is getting his bearings and is starting to make his move.”
“I see. I’ll be waiting for that report then. Good night, Rusty.”
“Take care.”
I closed the phone carefully. It was so thin that I had to be very gentle with it. I had already gone through two previous models in recent months. I slipped the phone into the pocket in which I normally kept it and zipped the pocket closed.
I stood up and walked back to the kitchen door of old farm house in Salem Township, a rural area on the edge of Metro Detroit’s suburbs, which I had purchased a few months back. I opened the door and stepped out into the night air.
The moon was full and bright, its shine bathed the wooded landscape in soft white light. Looking towards the west, I noted a storm brewing as a mass of clouds that obscured the stars crawled inexorably closer.
Winter was coming.
The question was, as always, how long and hard would this winter be?
“OK, so I can’t use any Bureau resources, but you aren’t saying that I can’t look into things on my own are you?”
He sighed and took a moment before answering. “Your time is your own to do with as you please, when you are not otherwise on assignment…”
“Good. I’ll keep the Bureau out of this until I come up with something substantial.”
“Rusty…”
“It’s OK. I’m getting pretty damn good at keeping things separate when they need to be, I’ll be careful.”
“Rusty, you need to listen for a moment. This has gone higher than I would have thought possible. I tried everything I could do to get Arnold indicted as part of the cleanup of the Omega Project. But this Arnold has allies at the highest level of this administration. They worked behind the scenes to quash all of my efforts. The firm that represented him is chock full of former prosecutors and Justice Department policy makers, many of them from my former staff. Instead of getting indicted, Arnold has come out of this affair looking like a hero. I don’t know that you are going to be able to bring the Bureau in on this case at any point, especially if you result to any extra-legal means of gathering that evidence.”
“Well, I do know that he is back in business and that he needs to be stopped. Have you seen that damn commercial, that Bone Financial commercial?”
He sighed again. “Yes. It’s playing in every major media market in the country. I am hearing that there are offices scheduled to open in each of those markets within the next 90 days.”
“There’s something really fishy with this whole Bone Financial business. I know that prick, El Diablito, is involved in this as well. I don’t understand how they claim to be making any money at this whole post-mortem mortgage thing, do you?”
Zulu cleared his throat before he spoke. “I’ve seen some of the documents that they filed with the SEC, but I can’t claim to truly understand how this whole scheme works.”
“Can you at least tell me what you do understand?”
“Yes. I’ll e-mail you a summary of the key points of their various products and the spin they place on them in the SEC filings. The information is publicly available, so there is no concern in sharing it with you. Before I hang up though, I want to make it very clear to you, Rusty, that you need and your friends need to be exceptionally careful with any investigation that you engage in. Dick Arnold knows about you and I’m sure that he is taking precautions against any intervention that may attempt. Arnold may well have suspicions about me now. I’m quite sure that Arnold has the money and connections to employ agents of his own who will prove to be formidable adversaries. You will not have the backing or the support of the Bureau, so be careful. I will not be able to bail you or your friends out of any jams. Do you understand?”
“I do. Don’t worry, Boss, we can handle ourselves just fine. Oh, before I go, I do want to give you a heads up about something as well.”
“Oh?”
“You’ve read our report on Drake’s demise, right?”
He paused again. “Yes.”
“Well, I’ve had the task of hearing his damn story, and I can tell you that we’re going to be hearing from his father, Dracaar, sooner rather than later. I’m going to send you a message about some artifacts that are being held in various museums around the world. You might want to see that some extra security is quietly put in place at these places. I don’t know if we’ll be able to prevent them from being taken at some point, but we’re going to need to know when this stuff starts disappearing. That will be among the first signs that Dracaar is getting his bearings and is starting to make his move.”
“I see. I’ll be waiting for that report then. Good night, Rusty.”
“Take care.”
I closed the phone carefully. It was so thin that I had to be very gentle with it. I had already gone through two previous models in recent months. I slipped the phone into the pocket in which I normally kept it and zipped the pocket closed.
I stood up and walked back to the kitchen door of old farm house in Salem Township, a rural area on the edge of Metro Detroit’s suburbs, which I had purchased a few months back. I opened the door and stepped out into the night air.
The moon was full and bright, its shine bathed the wooded landscape in soft white light. Looking towards the west, I noted a storm brewing as a mass of clouds that obscured the stars crawled inexorably closer.
Winter was coming.
The question was, as always, how long and hard would this winter be?
Bone Financial
(A deep throated voice speaks over the image of a harried, middle-aged man pulling his hair as he stares at a pile of bills spread out over a table.)
“Are bills mounting up faster than you can pay them?”
(A new image flashes, a soccer mom looks plaintively at her beat up minivan as smoke rolls out from underneath the hood of the vehicle.)
“Have you hit a bump in the road to prosperity?”
(The two now sit together wistfully looking at colorful brochures for a blissful cruise that they tearfully toss into a garbage can before they collapse back into their worn couch.)
“Don’t give up on your dreams just because life has thrown you a few curveballs.”
(A new day has dawned; the now happy couple is seen walking out the door of a cheerful looking building with Bone Financial writing in golden letters across the top of the doorway. The husband is clearly holding a check in his hand. As they are walking hand in hand from the building, he shows it to his wife.)
“Let Bone Financial show you a new way to the financial freedom to enjoy the one life you have to live.”
(The scene shifts to a young, fresh faced man with an earnest expression as he sits down on the edge of a neat desk. He begins to speak in a different voice than has been speaking up to the present.)
“Bone Financial is offering a suite of financial products that no one else can offer, no matter your credit history. We can help make your dreams come true. Come see a Bone Financial Advisor today to see what we can do for you.”
“Are bills mounting up faster than you can pay them?”
(A new image flashes, a soccer mom looks plaintively at her beat up minivan as smoke rolls out from underneath the hood of the vehicle.)
“Have you hit a bump in the road to prosperity?”
(The two now sit together wistfully looking at colorful brochures for a blissful cruise that they tearfully toss into a garbage can before they collapse back into their worn couch.)
“Don’t give up on your dreams just because life has thrown you a few curveballs.”
(A new day has dawned; the now happy couple is seen walking out the door of a cheerful looking building with Bone Financial writing in golden letters across the top of the doorway. The husband is clearly holding a check in his hand. As they are walking hand in hand from the building, he shows it to his wife.)
“Let Bone Financial show you a new way to the financial freedom to enjoy the one life you have to live.”
(The scene shifts to a young, fresh faced man with an earnest expression as he sits down on the edge of a neat desk. He begins to speak in a different voice than has been speaking up to the present.)
“Bone Financial is offering a suite of financial products that no one else can offer, no matter your credit history. We can help make your dreams come true. Come see a Bone Financial Advisor today to see what we can do for you.”
Monday, October 30, 2006
Readings in Drakeology--#1
For those readers who are interested in reading further about the places, peoples and histories that Drake will be discussing in his posts, these supplementary posts will provide lists of reference links and books where further information can be found.
I will keep these posts brief and relatively infrequent, unless there is a demand for more.
Wikipedia is a good (but not necessarily the most accurate) source that is freely available so many links will be to articles on that site where readers who have an even deeper interest can find other sources quoted that they can access if they so choose.
The first link that I am providing is to the Wikipedia article on the city of Ur...
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ur
One should note that the quoted dates of prominence for Ur are later than Drake's claimed age...he states that he is 6,000 years old (meaning he would have been born at approximately 4000 BCE), while most sources state that Ur didn't rise to any level of prominence until at least several hundred years later, sometime around 3300 BCE.
Here is a link to the period of time in that region to which Drake is claiming to have been born:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chalcolithic
It is called the Chalcolithic Period, which is sort of a transition time in Asia between the Neolithic (stone age) and the Copper Age.
Finally, for this premier edition of 'Readings in Drakeology', I have two more items. The first is a good book where I have been able to find many of the things that Drake speaks about in:
Magick of the Gods and Goddesses by D.J. Conway, 2003, The Crossing Press.
In the first post by Drake, he mentions the name for his father's 'people', the An'girasii.
In my readings of DJ Conway, I came across a reference on page 384 that uses a very similar word: 'angiras' a Sanskrit word meaning 'a divine spirit' that may have been the basis for the Persian word, 'angaros' meaning 'courier' and the Greek words 'angelos' and 'daimon'. This was all used in the discussion by author Conway to explaain the origin of the word 'angel' in English and 'malakh' in Hebrew.
If Drake is indeed correct, then perhaps the Sanskrit word is derived from the An'girasii name for themselves, which according to Drake, means 'the Chosen'.
Future posts by Drake will discuss the An'girasii and their claimed origins and influence on the development of humanity much more.
So I will leave you with a couple more links to Wikipedia, the first of these is the entry for 'angiras' and the following ones are hints at where Drake's narrative will take us in his next few posts (each Sunday he will get to make another post, circumstances permitting).
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Angiras
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lothal
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harappa
Enjoy!
I will keep these posts brief and relatively infrequent, unless there is a demand for more.
Wikipedia is a good (but not necessarily the most accurate) source that is freely available so many links will be to articles on that site where readers who have an even deeper interest can find other sources quoted that they can access if they so choose.
The first link that I am providing is to the Wikipedia article on the city of Ur...
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ur
One should note that the quoted dates of prominence for Ur are later than Drake's claimed age...he states that he is 6,000 years old (meaning he would have been born at approximately 4000 BCE), while most sources state that Ur didn't rise to any level of prominence until at least several hundred years later, sometime around 3300 BCE.
Here is a link to the period of time in that region to which Drake is claiming to have been born:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chalcolithic
It is called the Chalcolithic Period, which is sort of a transition time in Asia between the Neolithic (stone age) and the Copper Age.
Finally, for this premier edition of 'Readings in Drakeology', I have two more items. The first is a good book where I have been able to find many of the things that Drake speaks about in:
Magick of the Gods and Goddesses by D.J. Conway, 2003, The Crossing Press.
In the first post by Drake, he mentions the name for his father's 'people', the An'girasii.
In my readings of DJ Conway, I came across a reference on page 384 that uses a very similar word: 'angiras' a Sanskrit word meaning 'a divine spirit' that may have been the basis for the Persian word, 'angaros' meaning 'courier' and the Greek words 'angelos' and 'daimon'. This was all used in the discussion by author Conway to explaain the origin of the word 'angel' in English and 'malakh' in Hebrew.
If Drake is indeed correct, then perhaps the Sanskrit word is derived from the An'girasii name for themselves, which according to Drake, means 'the Chosen'.
Future posts by Drake will discuss the An'girasii and their claimed origins and influence on the development of humanity much more.
So I will leave you with a couple more links to Wikipedia, the first of these is the entry for 'angiras' and the following ones are hints at where Drake's narrative will take us in his next few posts (each Sunday he will get to make another post, circumstances permitting).
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Angiras
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lothal
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harappa
Enjoy!
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Drake's Tale--#1
(This is the first in a series of posts that will be detailing Drake’s history in his own words. Pursuant to the agreement I have entered with him, there will be no content editing over what he has to say. Each of these posts will have the same title, above, numbered sequentially.—RB)
My story is a long one. But it must be told.
Six thousand years ago, I was born the third of three sons to Dracaar (having looked back on his blog, I see my not so literate host has misspelled my father’s name in more than one way) and Madeena of the ancient city state of Ur.
My parents were not married, although this was not in any way unusual in that time and place. My mother was the daughter of one the three powerful priest-kings of the city at the time. She was a powerful priestess in her own right, although her chosen deity was Tiamat—a faith that was officially banned within the city because of the propensity of Her advocates to inspire Chaos amongst Her followers. Due to my mother’s position in that society however, she was in no danger.
My father, Dracaar, was even more complex. He was the most powerful and easily the most successful general in the army of Ur. He towered over everyone else in the city. He was easily a foot taller than even the largest of his own band of elite warriors, standing nearly seven feet tall. Even among the social elite of Ur, he exuded a sense of power and a charisma that commanded respect and deference from nearly everyone who encountered him.
But my father was even more different than he appeared, physically. As you all know, my father was not entirely human. Dracaar was a member of a small but powerful race of beings who call themselves An’girasii, a word from their original language that means ‘the Chosen.’ These beings, the An’girasii, will be discussed at much greater length in future posts. Suffice it to say that they are extremely powerful Spirit beings who have their own unique physical forms, but who are also capable of taking human forms, as they choose.
When they chose to take human form, the An’girasii are able to interbreed with humans, something they have been doing for as long as they and humans have been sharing this world, which is to say a very, very long time. The benefits the An’girasii of this interbreeding will also be discussed later, but the benefits to the immediate offspring are rather variable and unpredictable. Those that survive long enough to be born may or may not inherit some of the An’girasii magickal talents.
My two older brothers, Nehmad and Sorud, were lucky enough to inherit both our father’s impressive stature and very visible vestiges of his magickal talents. I, however, was cursed with the stature of my mother and no recognizable magickal talent to make up for my smallish nature.
Growing up, I was left to my own devices. My two brothers were Father’s favorites and spent much of their time honing their warrior skills and developing their magickal talents over the weather. Sorud had the power to summon and control wind, while Nehmad reveled in his mastery over earth. Once I was old enough to feed and change myself, Mother left me in than tender care of the household slaves. The slaves were far more interested in making sure that they avoided the beatings that came with failing to keep the household running well than they were taking care of the runt of the mistress’s litter.
Mother was more concerned with developing her own considerable magickal talents and with the strategic forming and breaking of political alliances as needed than she was with raising any of her children. She was not a paragon of maternal virtue.
So my early years were spent staying out of the way of those were more important, more loved, more powerful, and more fearful than I was. Besides wishing that I was more like my older brothers, I spent most of my time observing and learning from those who were too busy to notice or care about me.
My story is a long one. But it must be told.
Six thousand years ago, I was born the third of three sons to Dracaar (having looked back on his blog, I see my not so literate host has misspelled my father’s name in more than one way) and Madeena of the ancient city state of Ur.
My parents were not married, although this was not in any way unusual in that time and place. My mother was the daughter of one the three powerful priest-kings of the city at the time. She was a powerful priestess in her own right, although her chosen deity was Tiamat—a faith that was officially banned within the city because of the propensity of Her advocates to inspire Chaos amongst Her followers. Due to my mother’s position in that society however, she was in no danger.
My father, Dracaar, was even more complex. He was the most powerful and easily the most successful general in the army of Ur. He towered over everyone else in the city. He was easily a foot taller than even the largest of his own band of elite warriors, standing nearly seven feet tall. Even among the social elite of Ur, he exuded a sense of power and a charisma that commanded respect and deference from nearly everyone who encountered him.
But my father was even more different than he appeared, physically. As you all know, my father was not entirely human. Dracaar was a member of a small but powerful race of beings who call themselves An’girasii, a word from their original language that means ‘the Chosen.’ These beings, the An’girasii, will be discussed at much greater length in future posts. Suffice it to say that they are extremely powerful Spirit beings who have their own unique physical forms, but who are also capable of taking human forms, as they choose.
When they chose to take human form, the An’girasii are able to interbreed with humans, something they have been doing for as long as they and humans have been sharing this world, which is to say a very, very long time. The benefits the An’girasii of this interbreeding will also be discussed later, but the benefits to the immediate offspring are rather variable and unpredictable. Those that survive long enough to be born may or may not inherit some of the An’girasii magickal talents.
My two older brothers, Nehmad and Sorud, were lucky enough to inherit both our father’s impressive stature and very visible vestiges of his magickal talents. I, however, was cursed with the stature of my mother and no recognizable magickal talent to make up for my smallish nature.
Growing up, I was left to my own devices. My two brothers were Father’s favorites and spent much of their time honing their warrior skills and developing their magickal talents over the weather. Sorud had the power to summon and control wind, while Nehmad reveled in his mastery over earth. Once I was old enough to feed and change myself, Mother left me in than tender care of the household slaves. The slaves were far more interested in making sure that they avoided the beatings that came with failing to keep the household running well than they were taking care of the runt of the mistress’s litter.
Mother was more concerned with developing her own considerable magickal talents and with the strategic forming and breaking of political alliances as needed than she was with raising any of her children. She was not a paragon of maternal virtue.
So my early years were spent staying out of the way of those were more important, more loved, more powerful, and more fearful than I was. Besides wishing that I was more like my older brothers, I spent most of my time observing and learning from those who were too busy to notice or care about me.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
A Blast from the Past...Part 2
Jim leaned forward, his elbows braced on the table. “The second article discussed a new financial instrument that an obscure little company was trying to get approval for, post-mortem mortgages.”
I couldn't resist interrupting. “Post-mortem mortgages? How the heck would that work?”
“Well, the article was a little fuzzy on the details of how exactly these things would work. But essentially, this new little company, Bone Financial, was offering to pay out substantial lump sums to ‘well qualified applicants’ who agree to sell the rights to their bodies after death.”
Ravyn looked exasperated. “What kind of company would buy the rights to dead bodies?”
Jim nodded. “I was curious about that as well. In some countries, viable organs for transplant have some economic value, but in this country it is currently illegal to sell any organs from a deceased person. However, an interesting person from this Bone Financial was quoted as saying that the bodies would not be used for organ donation, and in fact, these applicants were not in any way discouraged from donating their organs, should they so choose to. The name of that person was what caught my interest. It was a guy by the name of Leto, Mr. D. B. Leto, to be precise.”
“Could that be the same…?”
Jim nodded at my question. “It gets worse. I also noticed that there was one final note about how this new company, Bone Financial, was ‘a member of the Mercury-Unlimited Group family of companies.’ Once I put all of that together, I was able to do some research on the Net. I was able to pull up a photo from the Bone Financial website of this D. B. Leto, who is listed as the President of the company. It looks an awful lot like our friend, El Diablito.”
“Son of a bitch! When did you learn all of this?”
“I was just putting all of this together between the games today. I was going to call you and let you know tomorrow, after I had a chance to do some more research on MUG and Bone Financial.”
“Do you know where this Bone Financial is headquartered? I think I may need to make a road trip.”
Jim held up his hands. “Hold your horses, Rusty. I’m still gathering the information on these two companies. Let’s not rush into anything blind. Let me put together a full dossier of all available information on these new companies, then we can get together again, in the real world this time, and then we can plan our next moves.”
The Frau sat back and stretched her arms. “I agree with Jim. Let’s not be too hasty. Let’s make sure we go into this next case with as much information as possible. I’m very curious as to how this Bone Financial can actually be planning to make money by paying out money before people die for their bodies, especially if they aren’t selling the organs. My guess is that there are a lot of hidden aspects to this scheme that we will need to puzzle out before we can really see the whole picture here. Jim, keep us informed when you have your research done. Rusty, you need to go finalize your little deal with Drake.” She looked knowingly at Cerrydwen and Ravyn. “Ladies, we have our own little project to finish, agreed?”
Both Ravyn and Cerrydwen nodded their agreement to the Frau.
I was curious. “Just what are you gals up to now?”
The Frau stood up, walked over behind me and patted me on the shoulder. “It’s women’s business, Rusty. When everything is ready, you’ll know. Until then, you’ll just have to guess.” With that, she walked to her portal, opened the door, and left.
Cerrydwen was the next to leave, simply nodding to each of us, although she did flash a brief, conspiratorial smile at Ravyn as she nodded towards her. She was at the door and out so quickly it was as if she had run.
Ravyn flashed a smile as she hugged Jim and I and bounced out to her own door.
I looked at Jim. “Any idea of what they are up to?”
He shrugged, downed another mug of Diet Pepsi, and sighed. “I have no idea. It’s probably best that way too.”
I couldn't resist interrupting. “Post-mortem mortgages? How the heck would that work?”
“Well, the article was a little fuzzy on the details of how exactly these things would work. But essentially, this new little company, Bone Financial, was offering to pay out substantial lump sums to ‘well qualified applicants’ who agree to sell the rights to their bodies after death.”
Ravyn looked exasperated. “What kind of company would buy the rights to dead bodies?”
Jim nodded. “I was curious about that as well. In some countries, viable organs for transplant have some economic value, but in this country it is currently illegal to sell any organs from a deceased person. However, an interesting person from this Bone Financial was quoted as saying that the bodies would not be used for organ donation, and in fact, these applicants were not in any way discouraged from donating their organs, should they so choose to. The name of that person was what caught my interest. It was a guy by the name of Leto, Mr. D. B. Leto, to be precise.”
“Could that be the same…?”
Jim nodded at my question. “It gets worse. I also noticed that there was one final note about how this new company, Bone Financial, was ‘a member of the Mercury-Unlimited Group family of companies.’ Once I put all of that together, I was able to do some research on the Net. I was able to pull up a photo from the Bone Financial website of this D. B. Leto, who is listed as the President of the company. It looks an awful lot like our friend, El Diablito.”
“Son of a bitch! When did you learn all of this?”
“I was just putting all of this together between the games today. I was going to call you and let you know tomorrow, after I had a chance to do some more research on MUG and Bone Financial.”
“Do you know where this Bone Financial is headquartered? I think I may need to make a road trip.”
Jim held up his hands. “Hold your horses, Rusty. I’m still gathering the information on these two companies. Let’s not rush into anything blind. Let me put together a full dossier of all available information on these new companies, then we can get together again, in the real world this time, and then we can plan our next moves.”
The Frau sat back and stretched her arms. “I agree with Jim. Let’s not be too hasty. Let’s make sure we go into this next case with as much information as possible. I’m very curious as to how this Bone Financial can actually be planning to make money by paying out money before people die for their bodies, especially if they aren’t selling the organs. My guess is that there are a lot of hidden aspects to this scheme that we will need to puzzle out before we can really see the whole picture here. Jim, keep us informed when you have your research done. Rusty, you need to go finalize your little deal with Drake.” She looked knowingly at Cerrydwen and Ravyn. “Ladies, we have our own little project to finish, agreed?”
Both Ravyn and Cerrydwen nodded their agreement to the Frau.
I was curious. “Just what are you gals up to now?”
The Frau stood up, walked over behind me and patted me on the shoulder. “It’s women’s business, Rusty. When everything is ready, you’ll know. Until then, you’ll just have to guess.” With that, she walked to her portal, opened the door, and left.
Cerrydwen was the next to leave, simply nodding to each of us, although she did flash a brief, conspiratorial smile at Ravyn as she nodded towards her. She was at the door and out so quickly it was as if she had run.
Ravyn flashed a smile as she hugged Jim and I and bounced out to her own door.
I looked at Jim. “Any idea of what they are up to?”
He shrugged, downed another mug of Diet Pepsi, and sighed. “I have no idea. It’s probably best that way too.”
Monday, October 16, 2006
A Blast from the Past...Part 1
The council ended without much further serious discussion. Naomi’s bombshell visions that had been provided by the peacefully sleeping child in her arms certainly sobered up the discussion. She consented to a meeting between Alexa and the ring that held Drake’s Spirit form, if I chose to go ahead with the rest of the deal.
As Alexa stirred in her arms, Naomi looked around the table before standing up slowly. “I need to get back before she wakes up, please excuse me.”
After a brief exchange of pleasantries and a smattering of kisses on Alexa’s forehead, Naomi took her leave.
Naomi’s name was fading above her now closed door before anyone moved or spoke again.
Jim sat forward, poured himself another mug of Diet Pepsi from the magickal pitcher before he broke the silence. “Rusty, there’s something else we need to discuss, since you’ve dragged me here.”
“What’s that Jim?”
“I came across a couple of news items of interest when I was reading through some back issues of the Wall Street Primer that had piled up on my table. The first story was actually the more recent story, one that I at first glanced through in passing, but came back to in more detail and more interest after the second story really caught my attention.”
“Oh? So what were these stories about?”
He took a long swig from his mug, draining it and setting it aside as he created to room to be more demonstrative with his hands. “Well, the second story was an anouncement by one Dick Arnold, the former CEO of VortiCorp, about a new company that he has formed with a number of silent partners.”
“Dick Arnold? I thought he had fled the country when we messed up the financials for VortiCorp?”
Jim nodded. “He did. That’s what this announcement newsworthy. It appears that VortiCorp had a number of offshore subsidiaries in the Bahamas, the Turks and Caicos, and the Caymen Islands. This story was a puff publicity piece that was attempting to rehabillitate his image by blaming the financial problems of his original company on the ‘unethical and illegal activities of certain highly trusted employees’ and to trumpet his return with a newly formed holding corporation called the Mercury-Unlimited Group.” Jim sighed as he refilled and drained his mug again. “That article didn’t go into much detail about what businesses this new hoilding corporation was getting into, other than its ‘highly diversified investment portfolio,’ but the second article provided some ominous clues.”
Ravyn cocked her head and pursed her lips before speaking. “Mercury. That’s an interesting choice. There’s implied ties to business and commerce, which is probably the obvious refernce they are going for, but there could be a lot of magickal meaning hidden in that name. Mercury has a lot of associations with magick in modern occultism, especially the rulership over magick.”
The Frau chuckled, looked up from her second dissected grapefruit and spoke up. “Yes, Mercury also played a role in guiding the spirits of the dead. I don’t think this was a random choice at all, especially from what we know that VortiCorp was trying to do before.”
Cerrydwen nodded. “I agree. This name was not chosen by random. So what did the other article say?”
As Alexa stirred in her arms, Naomi looked around the table before standing up slowly. “I need to get back before she wakes up, please excuse me.”
After a brief exchange of pleasantries and a smattering of kisses on Alexa’s forehead, Naomi took her leave.
Naomi’s name was fading above her now closed door before anyone moved or spoke again.
Jim sat forward, poured himself another mug of Diet Pepsi from the magickal pitcher before he broke the silence. “Rusty, there’s something else we need to discuss, since you’ve dragged me here.”
“What’s that Jim?”
“I came across a couple of news items of interest when I was reading through some back issues of the Wall Street Primer that had piled up on my table. The first story was actually the more recent story, one that I at first glanced through in passing, but came back to in more detail and more interest after the second story really caught my attention.”
“Oh? So what were these stories about?”
He took a long swig from his mug, draining it and setting it aside as he created to room to be more demonstrative with his hands. “Well, the second story was an anouncement by one Dick Arnold, the former CEO of VortiCorp, about a new company that he has formed with a number of silent partners.”
“Dick Arnold? I thought he had fled the country when we messed up the financials for VortiCorp?”
Jim nodded. “He did. That’s what this announcement newsworthy. It appears that VortiCorp had a number of offshore subsidiaries in the Bahamas, the Turks and Caicos, and the Caymen Islands. This story was a puff publicity piece that was attempting to rehabillitate his image by blaming the financial problems of his original company on the ‘unethical and illegal activities of certain highly trusted employees’ and to trumpet his return with a newly formed holding corporation called the Mercury-Unlimited Group.” Jim sighed as he refilled and drained his mug again. “That article didn’t go into much detail about what businesses this new hoilding corporation was getting into, other than its ‘highly diversified investment portfolio,’ but the second article provided some ominous clues.”
Ravyn cocked her head and pursed her lips before speaking. “Mercury. That’s an interesting choice. There’s implied ties to business and commerce, which is probably the obvious refernce they are going for, but there could be a lot of magickal meaning hidden in that name. Mercury has a lot of associations with magick in modern occultism, especially the rulership over magick.”
The Frau chuckled, looked up from her second dissected grapefruit and spoke up. “Yes, Mercury also played a role in guiding the spirits of the dead. I don’t think this was a random choice at all, especially from what we know that VortiCorp was trying to do before.”
Cerrydwen nodded. “I agree. This name was not chosen by random. So what did the other article say?”
Monday, October 09, 2006
The Shadow Council...Conclusion
Luckily, Jim had been on the ball, recognizing the changes in Naomi as she went under her trance. He had pulled out a small pad of paper and taken down the verses for us to analyze in more detail. He read them back to us.
“Wow, I said all of that? I’ve never heard any of those lines before.” She looked down at the sleeping toddler (Alexa was now nearly 15 months old) and back up at us again. “I never did finish what I was going to tell you about what I saw when I was dead.”
Ravyn nodded. “We’d certainly like to hear about what you saw.”
Naomi cleared her throat and began her story again. “As I was saying before I got so rudely interrupted, I went down the steps in that funky smelling cave at the base of Rusty’s tree and came to the reflecting pool. I bent down to look into the pool and I saw all sorts of images moving around in the pool, there were so many and they were moving so fast at first, that I couldn’t make any sense out of what I was seeing.”
Jim was leaning forward over the table, bent over his notebook, scribbling notes, but he glanced up long enough to throw out a question. “Do you remember anything of those early images?”
Naomi paused, concentrated and nodded. “Yes. I remember seeing lots of images of war. Tanks, planes, soldiers fighting other soldiers. Soldiers shooting women and children. Lots of bombs. Missiles striking cities.” She stopped, her voice catching as she realized what she was remembering and what she was saying. A tear trickled down her cheek. “I...I...I saw so many people dying. Dying from war. Dying from disease and starvation. It looked like the end of the world. One of the last of the flashing images that I saw was a bunch of nuclear bombs going off, each over a different city, just like we saw in all of those crazy movies ten or fifteen years ago.”
Jim, furiously scribbling, glanced up again as he asked another question in a calm, clinical voice. “Did the visions stop there?”
Naomi shook her, her eyes now full of tears. “No.” She sobbed before continuing. “The images stopped flashing, but a new image came up. It was the image of a beautiful face. I know it was Alexa’s, all grown up. Her eyes were so big and sad. She looked right at me and spoke to me.”
The Frau’s face was beaming as she interjected. “What did she say to you?”
Naomi looked down at the angelic face of our sleeping child and brushed a small dark curl from her forehead before looking up again. “She said, ‘Mother, what you’ve just seen is the most likely future. It is a view of a day that will dawn all too soon, unless we do everything in our power to change it.’ I was crying then, just like I’m crying now, I tried to tell her that I was dead, that I wouldn’t be able to change anything about it, but she kept speaking. ‘Mother, soon, you will wake up, and when the time is right, you will remember what I am saying to you now. Know this, that there is a chance, however small that chance might be, for that future to be averted. But for that to happen, you must not yield to the normal maternal instincts to shield me from all possible harm or dangers. As I grow up, I must see and experience everything that I can of the human condition. I must know both Good and Evil and everything in between if my Dance is to have the power to change this future towards which we hurtle even now.’”
The silence in that room could not have been deeper when she finished speaking. Each of us sat there absorbing the words of the blissfully sleeping child who had not yet spoken her own first word.
I was the first one to break that sacred silence. “Well, I guess Drake gets his deal then. You can’t get much more evil than that bastard was and still be human.”
“Wow, I said all of that? I’ve never heard any of those lines before.” She looked down at the sleeping toddler (Alexa was now nearly 15 months old) and back up at us again. “I never did finish what I was going to tell you about what I saw when I was dead.”
Ravyn nodded. “We’d certainly like to hear about what you saw.”
Naomi cleared her throat and began her story again. “As I was saying before I got so rudely interrupted, I went down the steps in that funky smelling cave at the base of Rusty’s tree and came to the reflecting pool. I bent down to look into the pool and I saw all sorts of images moving around in the pool, there were so many and they were moving so fast at first, that I couldn’t make any sense out of what I was seeing.”
Jim was leaning forward over the table, bent over his notebook, scribbling notes, but he glanced up long enough to throw out a question. “Do you remember anything of those early images?”
Naomi paused, concentrated and nodded. “Yes. I remember seeing lots of images of war. Tanks, planes, soldiers fighting other soldiers. Soldiers shooting women and children. Lots of bombs. Missiles striking cities.” She stopped, her voice catching as she realized what she was remembering and what she was saying. A tear trickled down her cheek. “I...I...I saw so many people dying. Dying from war. Dying from disease and starvation. It looked like the end of the world. One of the last of the flashing images that I saw was a bunch of nuclear bombs going off, each over a different city, just like we saw in all of those crazy movies ten or fifteen years ago.”
Jim, furiously scribbling, glanced up again as he asked another question in a calm, clinical voice. “Did the visions stop there?”
Naomi shook her, her eyes now full of tears. “No.” She sobbed before continuing. “The images stopped flashing, but a new image came up. It was the image of a beautiful face. I know it was Alexa’s, all grown up. Her eyes were so big and sad. She looked right at me and spoke to me.”
The Frau’s face was beaming as she interjected. “What did she say to you?”
Naomi looked down at the angelic face of our sleeping child and brushed a small dark curl from her forehead before looking up again. “She said, ‘Mother, what you’ve just seen is the most likely future. It is a view of a day that will dawn all too soon, unless we do everything in our power to change it.’ I was crying then, just like I’m crying now, I tried to tell her that I was dead, that I wouldn’t be able to change anything about it, but she kept speaking. ‘Mother, soon, you will wake up, and when the time is right, you will remember what I am saying to you now. Know this, that there is a chance, however small that chance might be, for that future to be averted. But for that to happen, you must not yield to the normal maternal instincts to shield me from all possible harm or dangers. As I grow up, I must see and experience everything that I can of the human condition. I must know both Good and Evil and everything in between if my Dance is to have the power to change this future towards which we hurtle even now.’”
The silence in that room could not have been deeper when she finished speaking. Each of us sat there absorbing the words of the blissfully sleeping child who had not yet spoken her own first word.
I was the first one to break that sacred silence. “Well, I guess Drake gets his deal then. You can’t get much more evil than that bastard was and still be human.”
The Shadow Council...Part 4
Naomi arrived with shortly afterwards, baby Alexa held in her arms. She looked more than a little nervous as she walked up to the table as we all watched. “Is something wrong?”
“Yes and no, dear.” The Frau was the first to reply. “Rusty was simply discussing whether or not our dearly departed friend Drake should have an opportunity to meet your precious Alexa. I reminded him, however, that there are some things where one must consult with the mother of a child prior to deciding.”
Naomi gave me a hard stare as she clutched Alexa closer to her bosom. The defiance in her eyes gave her answer without a single word being uttered.
I held up my hand. “Wait a minute. I never said I had agreed to anything yet, I was simply bringing the matter up for discussion. But, Naomi, since you are here, let me tell you the whole story.” I glanced sideways at the Frau. I saw her little sly smirk.
Naomi’s body language only softened slightly once she heard the entire proposition and was caught up on the discussion to date. Her words, however, shocked all of us.
“I think that this is an offer that we will have to take at some point.”
Everyone’s eyes opened wide, a few mouths dropped open.
She rocked the peacefully sleeping Alexa ever so gently, glanced down at her beautfiul face and then looked each of us in the eye before continuing on.
“In the time that I was...gone...I spent some time at the Tree that Rusty planted. It...spoke...to me. It told me to go down into the cave within its roots and that I should look into the reflecting pool within. When I did that, I saw so many things! The Tree told me that Alexa is more special than I could ever imagine. I saw and heard things I could not believe, that I didn’t want to believe were even possible...”
As she spoke, Naomi’s eyes glazed over, the pupils rolling up towards her forehead until only the whites of her showed. Her voice took on a huskier quality as she continued to speak.
“Amidst Despair and Discord, the Daughter of Death has come!
From Darkness she was born, Descendant of Slaves now seeming free.
Conceived from Greed and Deceit, the Daughter of Death has come!
Through her Dance and her Deeds, Empires fall and the Mighty flee.
“Stricken by Faith and Terror, the Daughter of Death has come!
To War turns the Old Guard, proclaiming loudly the false Victory.
Whilst Wind tears and Waters roar, the Daughter of Death has come!
Tho’ Fire and Shadow may strive, Hope or Peace has no guarantee.
“Riven by Doubt and Fear, the Daughter of Death has come!
Final Victory within his grasp, the Undying Hunter fails in Conceit.
As the Elder Scions gather in Malice, the Daughter of Death has come!
The Hunt begins anew, can the Unliving restore Hope to Humanity?”
Naomi sagged, her head slumping down to rest on Alexa before she came out of her trance. She sat up straight and shook her head. “I don’t know what just came over me.”
Ravyn and I looked at each other. I managed to spit out the words that she was thinking as well. “I’ve heard the first two verses before, T’tubah recited them in a very similar trance state in New Orleans, just before we rescued Alexa.” I left it unsaid that we also failed to save Naomi, who was killed by a very nasty troll-like creature just as we arrived.
Naomi looked curious as we spoke. “What verses?”
“Yes and no, dear.” The Frau was the first to reply. “Rusty was simply discussing whether or not our dearly departed friend Drake should have an opportunity to meet your precious Alexa. I reminded him, however, that there are some things where one must consult with the mother of a child prior to deciding.”
Naomi gave me a hard stare as she clutched Alexa closer to her bosom. The defiance in her eyes gave her answer without a single word being uttered.
I held up my hand. “Wait a minute. I never said I had agreed to anything yet, I was simply bringing the matter up for discussion. But, Naomi, since you are here, let me tell you the whole story.” I glanced sideways at the Frau. I saw her little sly smirk.
Naomi’s body language only softened slightly once she heard the entire proposition and was caught up on the discussion to date. Her words, however, shocked all of us.
“I think that this is an offer that we will have to take at some point.”
Everyone’s eyes opened wide, a few mouths dropped open.
She rocked the peacefully sleeping Alexa ever so gently, glanced down at her beautfiul face and then looked each of us in the eye before continuing on.
“In the time that I was...gone...I spent some time at the Tree that Rusty planted. It...spoke...to me. It told me to go down into the cave within its roots and that I should look into the reflecting pool within. When I did that, I saw so many things! The Tree told me that Alexa is more special than I could ever imagine. I saw and heard things I could not believe, that I didn’t want to believe were even possible...”
As she spoke, Naomi’s eyes glazed over, the pupils rolling up towards her forehead until only the whites of her showed. Her voice took on a huskier quality as she continued to speak.
“Amidst Despair and Discord, the Daughter of Death has come!
From Darkness she was born, Descendant of Slaves now seeming free.
Conceived from Greed and Deceit, the Daughter of Death has come!
Through her Dance and her Deeds, Empires fall and the Mighty flee.
“Stricken by Faith and Terror, the Daughter of Death has come!
To War turns the Old Guard, proclaiming loudly the false Victory.
Whilst Wind tears and Waters roar, the Daughter of Death has come!
Tho’ Fire and Shadow may strive, Hope or Peace has no guarantee.
“Riven by Doubt and Fear, the Daughter of Death has come!
Final Victory within his grasp, the Undying Hunter fails in Conceit.
As the Elder Scions gather in Malice, the Daughter of Death has come!
The Hunt begins anew, can the Unliving restore Hope to Humanity?”
Naomi sagged, her head slumping down to rest on Alexa before she came out of her trance. She sat up straight and shook her head. “I don’t know what just came over me.”
Ravyn and I looked at each other. I managed to spit out the words that she was thinking as well. “I’ve heard the first two verses before, T’tubah recited them in a very similar trance state in New Orleans, just before we rescued Alexa.” I left it unsaid that we also failed to save Naomi, who was killed by a very nasty troll-like creature just as we arrived.
Naomi looked curious as we spoke. “What verses?”
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