Blood & Magic Read online

  - Chapter 11 -

  Pathways

  “Hang on, I'm lost. So Inquisitors are changers, which are alternates, which are like humans, but...”

  “No, for God’s sake listen,” Gabriel said.

  The cafe was odd to say the least, reminding Henry of the Hookah bars he had visited while in Turkey. An aromatic scent clung to the air, sickly sweet and heady. Light poured from coloured glass oil lamps, hung from the ceiling in no discernible pattern. Blocks of pink, green and blue shone out, the colours falling across Gabriel's face as Henry listened to him. The pair were huddled around a small metal table at the side of the shop, each nursing a glass of an electric green liquid Gabriel claimed to be tea. It didn't taste like any tea Henry had ever tried.

  “There is the universe, made of 5% matter and energy Humans can measure and 95% stuff science can’t explain, we call the energy part of that magus,” Gabriel said.

  “With you so far.”

  “Magus can interact with matter in untraditional ways, it can do funny stuff with some elements to create certain effects, like the distraction field from earlier. The distraction field is just one of results of the five magus infused elements. Magus also interacts with living tissue, creating a new species from homo sapien that we call alternate, or altur sapien if you like your Latin. We have five types of alternate, each with different abilities. I'm not gonna try to teach you them now, because you'll get a headache and we still have a long night ahead of us.”

  “What kind of abilities?”

  “Take the Physicalist power, some people have this and don't even know. Look at Usain Bolt - mid level physicalist and has no idea, how does he think he can move so quick? Stephen Hawking, high-level Mentalist, although I heard he does understand magus, guessing he'd have to keep quiet about it.”

  “Steven Hawking is a-” Henry said, but Gabriel interrupted him.

  “Take a look at this,” Gabriel said, taking a napkin off the table and a pen from his pocket. On the napkin he drew a five pointed star, a pentagram. “You recognise it? Well, take each point and you find a fundamental alternate power. Myths and symbols aren't made without reason, they tend to describe real phenomena that are best kept secret.”

  “What sort of powers are we talking about?”

  “We aren't talking magic tricks, more a manipulation of the fundamental elements that make up the world. Some types of alternates can move objects with their mind, manipulate fire, or electricity, gain inhuman strength or speed, read your thoughts, or even heal wounds. The list goes on and on.”

  “Why was the battle outside not more... Harry Potter style?”

  “Why did they use guns? Because in most alternates, their magus is quite weak and they can cause far more harm with a gun than their own powers. Anyway, alternates are a bit trickier to understand than powers, we each have three elements to our magus. Think of it as pick and mix, although we call them gifts. We represent that with a triskele,” he said drawing the new shape. “First, we have a power; then a charm, like being able to see alternates like you can; and last, we remember.”

  “Remember?”

  “Alternates pass down genetic memories, to differing extents. Guessing you have had some flashbacks which feel pretty familiar, yet you can't explain why? Alternates get these to varying degrees, from total recall of previous lives to weird déjà vu moments. Five different levels five in fact.”

  “What a shock, five types,” Henry said, one eyebrow cocked.

  “Exactly, not so hard after all?”

  “I’m still with you aren't I?”

  “Go back 800 years and we discovered someone with all five abilities. Using the blood of this poor bastard, they fixed the interbreeding problem between two different types of Alternate. It used to be only two identical types of alternates, or an alternate and a human, could reproduce. That was, until science got involved and managed to resolve the problem using fifth-blood. When Alternates on adjacent sides of the pentagram bred after being treated with the blood,” he said pointing to the crudely drawn star on the napkin. “their children became a sort of hybrid, combining two powers, represented by the inner corners of the pentagram. Great, everyone thought, but there were some side effects. Anyway, long and the short of it means you have another five types of alternate to remember. You still following me?”

  “What do mean by side effects?”

  A scuffle outside caused Henry to lean across the table, only to be pushed back by Gabriel so that he remained concealed inside the cafe.

  “I mean they received minor additional abilities beyond their combined alternate powers, like the Grol gained increased senses, but they ain't got no physical magus in them to cause it. Bigger problem was they developed personality traits that, in some, could cause quite big issues. We call them hybrids or as they used to be branded, daemons,” Gabriel said.

  “What do you mean by-” Henry said, before Gabriel interrupted him again.

  “Cutting straight to what you are. At some point, they found a group of individuals that, while being alternates, didn't quite fit into any of the ten categories I've described so far. They had some additional talents of their own that set them apart and were, according to some documentation, part of a cult thing... let's not dwell on that. They called them Inks.”

  “Inks?”

  “You lot can change your power between the five, no big shakes as it is one of the five charms available to all alternates, but you also get to change your charms, or more accurately, switch them at will. You can change powers and charms to suit a situation, which includes your second sight thing and you have a level three genetic memory, which means you can be trained up quickly. Anyway, Inks have found themselves maintaining some kind of order in the alternate world, as well as protecting alternates from human oppression. Generally put, Inks have their work cut out.”

  “Why are they called Inks?”

  “Seriously, that is your question after what I just told you? And you mean, why are you called an Ink? Some say Inks see the normal five alternate abilities a bit like coloured ink covering the alternate's body. I always went with the fact all Inks ended up working for the Inquisition.”

  “The Inquisition, as in the witch hunts?”

  “Yeah, of sorts. Anyway, time we drugged you up again.”

  Before Henry could question him, Gabriel sunk a needle into his arm, a familiar tingling sensation setting in.

  “How many people do you think died before? In that explosion?”

  “Lots. Look Henry, you can't get hung up on that. I know in the over-city you get all upset when someone dies, but the life of an alternate isn't so secure. We are in the middle of a civil war, Deliverance versus the Inquisition. They want to remove human control from of this world, let the 'superior race' take over. Your role will be vital to stopping that happening, and soon you will be stopping events like tonight from happening altogether.”

  “But if it wasn't for me, they wouldn't have died.”

  “No, they wouldn't have. You have to live with that. Bury it or let it out, I don't give a damn, just get over it already. A group of people you didn't know died. Do you get all upset at the mass killings that go on all the time across the world, those fighting in wars or dying of poverty? No? Well grow a pair and get some perspective. Take some solace in the fact you aren't likely to survive the night, and even if you do, you'll probably be dead within-”

  The sound of people shouting outside broke their conversation, followed by gunfire, shots echoing around the small cafe.

  “Time we left,” Gabriel said.

  Putting a ten pound note on the table and giving a cheap smile to the waitress, Gabriel took Henry's elbow again and led him to the back of the cafe. Passing through a draped curtain which acted as a door onto a side alleyway, the pair meandered their way around strewn rubbish, finding a path to the street.

  “You idiot Gabriel, bringing the little squid here,” a voice said from behind them as they reached the squares again
.

  There was the unmistakable click of a gun close to Henry's ear, he didn't need to turn around to know where it was aiming.

  “Bugger,” Gabriel said.

  No witty remarks, no obnoxious comments. Of course the blooming cockney would get him murdered, slicked back hair and Del Boy manner hadn't inspired the greatest confidence from the start.

  A warm heat swept across the back of Henry's neck, followed by the sound of a body hitting the floor. Well, that was peachy, Gabriel had probably been knocked out and, with him gone, they'd do whatever they wanted with Henry. Kill him, he hoped, he never thought he would fare too well with torture, not that anyone generally does.

  “Let's go,” said a voice which, to Henry's surprise, belonged to Gabriel.

  Henry turned to see a man crumpled on the floor, his head draped against the pavement, and Gabriel standing over him, pale as snow and breathless.

  “What happened?” Henry said.

  “Magic,” Gabriel said, a choke to his voice.

  Henry looked down the street, a group of men had just seen what had happened running towards them. Gabriel grabbed Henry's arm and spun them in the opposite direction.

  There had been all together too much running tonight for Henry's liking, even if most of it involved running for you life which, granted, gave you an incentive to carry on. They took random turns, zigzagging across the endless squares to try to lose their attackers, who, judging by their shouts, were getting closer. Perhaps they would have escaped, had it not been for the dead end.

  The courtyard was filled with mirrors on every wall, of all shapes and styles, from grand Edwardian pieces to small pocket mirrors arranged on tables. In the reflection, Henry saw what Gabriel was talking about, how Inks saw alternates. To him, Gabriel appeared as unwell in his reflection as in real life, however in his reflection, he had a weird green mist that moved across his body, twisting around the contours of his muscles and bones. Henry knew he wasn't human, but then, he didn't know what an alternate who was coloured slightly green did, unless that was the colour they went when unwell. Evidence would suggest his power had something to do with knocking people out, but Gabriel obviously wasn't any good at it, because the man from the street before now stood in front them, blocking the only way out. He wasn't alone.

  To his left was another man, built for carrying double decker buses. On his right, a third man of slimmer build stood gleefully, his eyes as crazed as his movements. Henry recognised him from the hospital and seeing him up close gave Henry every validation that running had been best course of action. Gabriel wasn't in fighting shape and Henry had no idea how to defend himself. This was going to go well...

  “Hey squid, how are you today? My boss would like a quick word if that's all right? Otherwise my instructions are to, and I quote, 'cave your head in,'” said the man in the middle.

  Gabriel coughed, but gave no reply, looking around the courtyard for some escape. A nice idea, but unless they could jump through mirrors like in dodgy fantasy novels, they had nowhere to go.

  A glance in the mirror changed the appearance of the three figures in front of Henry quite considerably. Like Gabriel, a mist surrounded them, withering and writhing as it touched their skin, settling as a living tattoo. These men wore red patterns across their bodies, apart from the guy in the middle who wore blue. With such intricate detail, it was impossible to describe how extraordinary the colours and shapes were. Henry could find no sense of what they meant, although he would have happily kept staring at all the patterns that formed on their skin for quite some time, if the threat of imminent death hadn't been present. All three men held guns pointed toward Gabriel and himself. Gabriel had a gun too, but he didn't raise it. Maybe he had a master plan, but, judging by the way he swayed like someone who hadn't yet found their sea legs on a ferry crossing, Henry very much doubted it.

  “Guys, I don't know anything. Until tonight, I didn't realise any of this existed, I won't talk to anyone, I swear,” Henry said.

  “You think we care if you talk? Your kind are behind the suppression and injustices we have to live with every day of our lives. I'll tell my boss you didn't want to talk, it would only have delayed things anyway. Don't worry, I'll make it a lot more painful for you, I promise,” said the guy on the right.

  There was a ripple through the air, the pulse hitting the attackers with enough force to send them flying off their feet and into the mirrors on the other side of the room. The glass shattered creating a pool of reflections around them, their red auras mixing with their injuries making them more red ink and blood than normal skin.

  She came in fast and acted even faster. The woman hit the three figures hard, spilling their guns out of reach just as they had managed to stand, forcing the fight to turn to close combat. She moved quicker than they did and, judging by the gut wrenching sound of breaking bone, she was as strong as any of her opponents. Sharply cut black hair was the only thing Henry took in about her, before his attention diverted to Gabriel who was trying to move a mirror away from the wall.

  Henry helped budge the mirror from place. Behind it was a metal grate that led, well, God knows where, but it was obviously what Gabriel was after. Together, they slid it from place, but as they did, Gabriel's legs gave way and he collapsed.

  People are a lot heavier than you think. Henry discovered this as he tried to hoist Gabriel from the floor. He looked back at the woman, who was now holding one of the men in an arm lock while she kicked out at another, all with the grace of a ballet dancer.

  The pair hurtled down the chute beyond the grate, with anything but grace. They toppled over one another, snagging on the changing gradient, tumbling with a splash into water, Gabriel cushioning Henry's blow. Henry gasped from the freezing water, struggling to his feet as he propped Gabriel against the wall. They were in a tunnel, it was pitch black, and Henry had no plan, but at least they were away from the men with guns. For now.

  Gabriel was still unconscious, although the little slide they had taken had probably not helped that. Henry reached into his pocket for his phone, the flashlight revealing a tunnel that was better left to the imagination. The walls were not visible through the green growth that covered their every inch and the water they stood in was completely opaque. The water flowed slowly along the tunnel and, taking that as the only indication of where to go, that was the direction Henry went. Slightly bent over to take Gabriel's weight, he set off, dragging the unconscious cockney beside him.

  As dire as trudging through the sewer seemed, it better than hanging around in the courtyard. Even if the dark haired woman won the fight, Henry wasn't entirely sure he trusted her. Perhaps they were fighting over their prize, no doubt the bounty on Henry's head.

  They hadn't been going for five minutes when he first heard it.

  “Henry?”

  His name, called out across the darkness in a whisper. The voice was familiar, safe.

  “Henry?”

  Before he considered what to do, he was already moving towards it, taking any turn along the tunnels that brought him closer.

  “Henry.”

  The voice was female, the tone resonating in his mind. Someone calling out his name, calling him to them. It was hypnotic. With each step closer, pulses of adrenaline surged through his veins, he had to find the owner of that voice, nothing else mattered.

  The tunnel turned off to a small walkway, and beyond that stood a bulky iron door with a port hole, the window clouded over with grime. Henry climbed the ledge, letting Gabriel drop to the floor with an ungracious thud.

  “This way, Henry Fellows,” the voice said.

  And he did what the voice said, although he did not understand why. If he had, he certainly would have never opened that door.

  - Chapter 12 -

  Accidents will happen

  Instinct kicked in and Alex swung her fist towards her attacker, her blow connecting with flesh as her assailant let out a cry.

  “What the hell?” Drew squealed.

>   Blood poured from his nose as he turned back toward the other PCs, their torches focused on his face. Drew angled his head back, clenching the bridge of his nose, as more blood streamed down the front of his white overalls.

  “Drew, I'm so sorry. I thought you... Well, I'm not sure,” Alex said.

  “You bloody punched me in the nose!”

  The two PCs stared at Alex for a moment as Drew whined on.

  “Christ, go and clean yourself up,” Alex said.

  Drew left the house and, from the window of the room, Alex watched him head back towards Greys Inn Gardens in almost a run, his head tilted back to try and stem the bleeding.

  In the light, the room was quite a different place, empty except for two arm chairs and a table. Along the dirty white walls were splatters of blood, like a modern piece of art, a vivid reminder of the severity of the attack here. How had the victim escaped? A vibration from her jumpsuit pocket startled Alex, and, to her surprise, she found that her phone had come back to life. The device registered thirty percent battery, why had it gone off? Alex took a series of pictures of scene, before making her way past the flurry of white suited forensics technicians that were filing into the house.

  All the previous cases had been so clean, but this one was such a mess. Why? For all intents and purposes, you could have said it was a different case, but it was her killer, Alex was sure of it.

  Chris was still examining the body when Alex crossed the field, moving with a nervous energy.

  “Chris, you found something for me?” Alex said.

  “We discovered this piece of jewellery on the victim,” he said pulling open the man's shirt at the top to reveal a small pendant, a silver Celtic triangle. “Only personal effect, so might mean something.”

  “Tell me you have something more?”

  “Indeed I do. I was looking at the stab wound and something about it felt wrong. The bruising was more apparent at the bottom of the wound than at the top, which was difficult to see through the amount of blood, believe me. Examining it closer got me thinking the angle wasn't right, so I checked the victim's hands and, 'bobs your uncle'. More bruising between the thumb and the index finger. All the blood vessels burst.”