Motus Vita

Motus Vita (9)

Posted by Ebonstorm on October 21, 2013

Posted in: Chapter, Character Bio, Clifford Engram, Motus Vita, Serial. Tagged: Albrecht, Albrecht Fleisher, ebonstorm, ice cream, Manny Rodriguez, Nexus, Night Train, Oroborus, Primal Earth, Samuel Owiti, storm elemental, supernatural, Thaddeus Howze, The Dark Gift, The Darkness, Vita, Zhang Hongjing. 1 Comment

He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. And when you gaze long into an abyss the abyss also gazes into you. —Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche, “Beyond Good and Evil“, Aphorism 146 (1886)

He said I was screaming but I can’t remember. My head, my heart, my very soul was filled with the screams of millions.

I couldn’t hear myself anymore.

All I could remember was striking him again and again. He resisted, I was a series of burns, my upper body covered in nothing but smoldering rags. But I didn’t feel a thing. My arm rose and fell rhythmically, like a piston in a V-8 engine, hammering him into the ground. Dark energy surrounded me, flying off in every direction, souls dying within me, feeding the beast their lifeforce, enhancing its power a thousand fold.

Fenrir was almost free and unleashed. Paradoxically, my complete exultation in my rage kept him with me. Free to escape, he was drawn to the purest source of rage around.

Me. I had turned from a prison to a killing field.

I didn’t want to stop. I couldn’t stop. I wouldn’t stop. Vita misled us. He lied to us. He brought us here to die. The hammering continued even after Vita fell limp. I couldn’t feel the Phoenix any more, it was gorged and feasting, too busy to watch over me. Too busy to do what it was created to do.

The hammering continued. I was filled with a dark ecstasy, as if this was what I was born to do.

To kill renegade gods.

Then I felt something change. The air grew thick, heavy, a hand, a clawed one grabbed my left shoulder. Black as night, fingernails of onyx, a grip of steel. I could break it like a twig. The vampire held his grip, his darkness became an anchor to me. Metaphorically, I felt my spirit reach out to it.

Then a second hand, as warm as the other was cold. Filled with Life, Manny grabbed my hand, the hammer surrounded in the darkforce that is Fenrir, as I stood over the unconscious body of Vita. My dark-force filled flesh should burn him, it should eat of his mortal flesh like a bonfire does a witch’s. He should be burning before my eyes.

I cannot bring my hammer back down. My arm is frozen there. His hand using no strength holds me in place and I turn to look at him, mouth open, pure rage flowing forth and he was shining. A smile beamed out from his face. A smile as beneficent, radiating kindness as powerfully as he normally radiated intensity.

Just like that, the darkforce was dispelled. The blue black sigils which surrounded my right arm lost their light and returned to being a spiritual prison to a god-like force of destruction. The possession was over. The souls of this ruined Earth dissipated releasing me. Exhausted I looked down.

Vita, protector of the Earths, Traveller of the Hidden Ways, lay dead in my grip. What had I done?

My name was Samuel Owiti. I was born in Kenya in the year 1787. When the British were bringing their empire to Kenya, they decided they would do it using rail and would hire many of the local tribes to work for them, laying track and building bridges. I was a worker on such a track over the Keyosa river.

My tribe was a small one, barely two hundred members but the men worked for the British since it appeared they were not planning to leave Kenya any time soon. The British railway was enriching provinces and we thought it might be good for our small tribe to take advantage of this irresistible force.

Our people believed in magic then. The magic of family lines, of spirits of hospitality, of the power of the Orisha, of the spirits of nature. It was the spirits of nature we feared and appeased the most for they were the closest to us and often willing to manifest when nature was out of balance.

There was a spiritual war taking place when the British brought their train through our province. And when it was done, many lives were lost. More importantly, it brought our province under the scrutiny of older eyes. Older than the spirits wandering the plains, older than the mountain gods of Kilimanjaro. So old, they were born someplace outside of our world.

I met one of those spirits. On the night of the final completion of the tracks. After the bodies of our families were given their rights, I heard a train coming across the tracks. No one else seemed to hear it. No one else saw the fog that accompanied it. I found myself drawn toward the sound and I could see it as it crossed high above the river, making a thunderous noise, steam flaring from its nostrils, and a hellish light burned from its single eye. A light I can still remember all these years later.

It stopped before me. I had been struck motionless, in awe or fear, I knew not which. I waited as its steaming breath surrounded me and the world as I knew it fell away. Only the moon remained constant as day and night changed. The countryside around me grew more advanced, a small group of buildings in the distance grew larger, more prominent, and our village became a city.

“This is your future. We have seen it.”

I fell to my knees as the voice was like nothing I had ever known. Rapturous, making me ready to assume God had come to me, but in its next sentence I thought maybe instead Satan was before me instead.

“But only if you are prepared to die here. This future does not include you. It exists because of you.”

“What are you? Why should I believe anything you say? This is too much to be believed. Am I already dead?” All I had was questions, nothing coherent, nothing made sense.

“What if I told you, all your choices, all your decisions can cause the world you live in to change for the better or the worse, would you believe that is possible?”

I felt like this question was something I could comprehend, so I tried to focus on just that one tiny thing. “Yes, I believe a man makes the future he works toward.”

“What if I told you, there are multiple futures, some go forth and become great and vast things, others wither on the vine, based on the decisions of humanity as a whole. What if I told you there are some decisions at certain points which affect the lives of billions, sometimes positively, other times negatively. What if I told you, tonight, you will make such a decision, Samuel Owiti? I will go one step further and tell you, if you say no, and walk away, this decision will change your world from what you saw, to this.”

The city fell away, flames engulfed the buildings, towering clouds rose into the skies with a burning light within, destroying all they touched. People vaporized, nothing but their shadows remaining. All of mighty Africa reduced to a radioactive wasteland. “Enough, you monster, if your goal is to bring me to your cause, you need not have done this.”

“Done what, Samuel? Do you think I did this? I am not the cause of this event. You, humanity, are the monster. I am merely its Witness. That is what I do. I witness. I watch, I only intervene under certain circumstances. Very rigidly defined circumstances. But with you, I could do more. Much more. But perhaps you need more to convince you. Let us go forward from your last day on Earth to seven years in the future. You will return to your home to find it overrun with foreign troops. Smell the gunpowder, see the burning; find your families, all of them gunned down by the very same British who claimed they would bring prosperity to you. They brought it, but kept the prosperity for themselves. Do you see where you would be now? Dead. Valiant, but dead, just the same.”

I wanted to disbelieve him. But I could feel the veracity of his words. I could see my brother-in-law standing hip deep in the British dead, before he was gunned down, his machete dripping blood even into death. I know this is how he would die. He hated the British. All of my family fought and died. I even saw what I think was me but I flickered like a light trying to resist going out.

“If I go with you, will you stop this?”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no? You said if I went with you I would be able to change things?”

“For others, yes. Their futures will change because of your choices. But this spot. This place in time, this is a point that cannot, will not be changed. The only point in question is you. You are superimposed on multiple quantum realities. Because we are discussing your future, it is, for the moment in flux. You have only a short time to decide.”

“If I go with you, I will not die?”

“Not this day. Nor will you in seven years. You will live another two hundred and twenty six years before the threat of Death will be before you. You will have to make the choice again then. This assumes no threat as great as yourself, no being on the scale of what we are, no forces from realms outside of us whose power rivals our own, will you have to worry about. On any day you change something pivotal, you can expect to draw the ire of those who placed us in this service. You are not the first Conductor. Nor will you be the last.”

A door opened in the distance and through the fog, I could see a man come to the edge of the rear of the engine. He staggered down the ladder and walked to me. His coat was stained with blood. Fresh. He was a short man who wore his white hair long and braided in the back. In the moonlight he had a fine white mustache hanging over the edges of a wide and expressive mouth. He smiled at me while staggering in my direction to fall into my arms. “My time here is over. I have done what I could for as many as I was able in as many forms as I was allowed. The Darkness is coming and I fear I will not last long enough to overcome them. I give the power to save us to you. If you will take it up. I know you have and you did, and you will regret this too. This is as it should be. No such use of power should come without regret.”

“How long have you been doing this?”

“I have guided Hēi Lóng, the Black Dragon, for nearly a thousand years. Will you take this burden from me? I was suited to this task but now I realize I am truly a man out of my time. I can no longer make the decisions that need to be made.”

A thousand year old man. A train that was a dragon, whose fierce eyes now stared at me. A future of war, not just here but across time and space. A man who was out of time. I answered, “Yes. Tell me your name.”

I could barely hear him and had to lean my ear close to his lips. Then he coughed and drew in his last breath. With it he said, “Take my coat, and my watch. Create a new future.”

And then Zhang Hongjing, minister of a China before I was born, died of the wounds of treachery administered to him nearly a thousand years ago.

The coat was heavy and it changed into something more modern as soon as it was on. I felt my humanity fall away. Hunger, cold, fear, all replaced by something ancient, fearsome, godlike.

I took the watch from his hand and as I strapped it to my coat, I could feel the serpent wrap itself around my heart. Tendrils of magic filled me, and took my breath away as it squeezed itself into my chest, fitting itself, nestled around my organs.

“For a time, we will be as one. For a while.”

It would be twenty years before the Black Dragon, a creature older than Man, would speak to me again.

I am home. Just as he promised. I would die in the exact same space, my superposition ratified, my position confirmed.

After two centuries roaming all of time and space, I recognize the mountain in the distance, Kilimanjaro.

The gods of Kilimanjaro call me home after two centuries away. The two lions greet my spirit and lead me away from my death.

Movement was my life; my identity as Motus Vita is done. Their embrace means I am finally free. Once a demigod, I am content to be Samuel Owiti once more. As a child I was cast away, and raised by a man not my father, and a woman not my mother. My work as Motus Vita was to help others find a home when none appeared to exist for them. That work for two centuries was good. Now I, too, have come home.

I rise above the ruins of what was once a great city, my home, leaving behind three warriors, whom I, in my fear and desperation, lead to their deaths unless they can become something other than they are. In the minutes left to them, they must master the serpent that encircles the worlds.

They must master Ouroboros.

Paranormal 2

Motus Vita (8)

Posted by Ebonstorm on October 14, 2013

Posted in: Chapter, Character Bio, Clifford Engram, Motus Vita, Serial. Tagged: Albrecht, Albrecht Fleisher, aliens, ebonstorm, Grand Central, ice cream, Indra's Vajra, lightning spear, Manny Rodriguez, Nexus, Night Train, Primal Earth, storm elemental, supernatural, Thaddeus Howze, The Dark Gift, Vita. Leave a comment

You believe you can separate fantasy from reality. You’re starting from an incorrect premise. You believe there is a difference.
–The Night Train

The storm elementals closed us and the burning stink of ozone accompanied them.

We could barely handle one. How in the world would we fight four?

As we prepared to strike, their bodies powered up and they lit up from the inside. Then with a flash of lightning and a thunderclap that threw Manny and I away from where we were standing and sliding back up the ramp in Grand Central Station, they were gone.

It took a minute until my vision came back and my ears stopped ringing.

When I finished wiping the tears from my eyes, I saw Albrecht standing there whispering to the small elemental formation surrounding the heart of the elemental we mostly destroyed earlier.

“Should I ask why you weren’t flat on your ass?” Manny was more than a little pissed and I understood.

Albrecht’s sharp-toothed grin was disturbing both from a human point of view since he was a vampire and from a personal perspective since a smile was the last thing I would have expected him to show. To us, no less. “I guess it liked me and protected me from the other elementals leavetaking. Next time, I promise to warn you in advance.”

I bet. I dispelled the lightning blade and picked up the ice cream. “We’re here. Where do you want us to go?” I looked up the platform and noticed all of the staff that bustled around the engine had disappeared while we were blinded.

“ALL ABOARD,” boomed from all around us and no place in particular.

“I guess our ride’s leaving. And me without a ticket. What now, fearless leader?”

“After you, Mr. Rodriguez.” I smiled and waved toward an opened train car door.

“Oh, no. After you, Mr. Engram. I insist.” He wasn’t smiling. “No, really, I do insist.”

“For the love of all that is unholy, we will go first. Come along, Sparky.”

Manny looked at me and mouthed silently. “He’s named it?”

“Does that mean you’re planning on keeping ‘Sparky’, Albrecht, you hardly know him, her, or it? I’m not judging. Just asking.” I wasn’t surprised he didn’t answer, he seemed totally absorbed by his interactions with the elemental.

Albrecht entered the darkened car and Sparky started glowing with a low blue light, illuminating what appeared to be a modern passenger car for a transcontinental rail. We followed staying close to the circle of light being cast by the creature. The train doors snapped shut behind us and the train began to move.

No turning back, now.

“Before we begin our journey, I would like to have the ice cream placed in the dropbox at the front of the car. Engram, you remember your way around, don’t you?”

“It looks different, but I can figure it out. Do I have to scoop or will you just eat the container as well?”

I found the door and pulled it back. I just dropped the whole bag into the hopper and closed it. Out of curiosity I pulled the door and just that quickly the ice cream was gone. No sound, no thunk, just vanished. When I was here as a kid, I learned nothing was as it appeared to be, but now with so much more experience, I was beginning to think this wasn’t even a train.

“Please be seated and take a look out of the windows.”

I was disappointed for a few minutes, it appeared to be nothing more than a subway tunnel with the occasional burst of light from passing through a station on the center express track. No one seemed disturbed by our passage, their bored expressions told me they must be seeing exactly what they expected; an express train as it zipped by.

This wasn’t a revolutionary trick, most magic worked along the same principle. People saw what they expected to see or could rationalize away what they saw with just the smallest amount of effort. This lent itself to the Agency’s mission since most people simply refused to believe in the supernatural even when confronted by it face to face.

Zombies became drug addicts, demonic possession became psychological dysfunction, the face of Jesus on a pancake could perform a miracle but only the pious would believe it, even if it actually happened. By the way, it would happen because the person believed it would, not because Jesus would manifest Himself through a pancake.

There were two thousand such pancakes, toasts, paint splotches, skidmarks, togas, coffee spills which, through the belief of people all over the world, manifested such miracles spontaneously at any one time. This belief in the power of pancakes, as well as belief in such a charged religious figure caused an interaction with the ambient Magiosphere all over the planet.

There weren’t more because so many people didn’t believe it was possible for that to happen. But there were enough that the agency was forced to take action, so they created tabloids. Funding publications like the Enquirer, the Tattler and the Star to keep misinformation out there, seeding disbelief while confusing what people thought was real.

“And you believe the Agency is clever in this trick, do you?” The sound came from a crackling speaker system in the overhead.

“Do you have to do that? Can you pick one way of communicating with us and stick with it?” I wasn’t even sure which way to face so I just sat there like I was crazy and spoke out loud to no one in particular.

We came above the ground and were heading uptown into the Bronx. I knew this route. The train blew its whistle. I opened the window, stuck my head out and saw a train on the platform ahead of us.

Stopped ahead of us. With passengers getting into the train.

The Night Train sped up. Blowing the whistle more frequently and louder, it covered the distance between itself and the train ahead in a matter of seconds.

I sat back down and strapped myself in and counted down.

When I expected to be crunching up against the Number 6 train ahead of me, I instead saw the fog grow fantastically thick and the train was gone from view, and the sound of the track disappeared as well. It was replaced with a sound similar to the fridge in my old apartment, an annoying buzz and hum, complete with the scent of food gone bad.

Then I remembered the nausea that accompanied a jump. The move to a new track, someplace else. It didn’t last long but it was uncomfortable, something you never got used to.

I felt something warm running down my lip and I realized my nose was bleeding. This never happened before. I looked at Manny and his nose was also bleeding. He had taken out a handkerchief and leaned his head back. I never had a handkerchief when I needed one so my sleeve would have to do. I pinched my nose shut, leaned back and waited for the blood to stop.

Albrecht appeared to be unaffected. Oh, goody. Am I really surprised?

The train car door opened in front of us. A light backlit the shape of a man wearing a conductor’s coat. He came into our car and the door shut behind him. The lights in the car came on, thankfully quite dim. He was a man of middling height and build. He would have been completely unremarkable except for his lack of an actual face. That and he was noisily eating ice cream.

“Your noses will stop bleeding in a minute or so. Nothing to worry about.” His eyeless face was quite a distraction. Only slightly less so than the gusto with which he consumed his ice cream. His mouth flickered into and out of existence appearing only long enough to manifest for a spoonful of ice cream and then disappeared once the spoon was out of his mouth.

At this point, nothing could surprise me. I just decided to accept everything I was about to see. I didn’t yet understand what that would mean.

I had so many questions, some Agency related but many just to understand what this thing was that I owed my life to? Start at the beginning. “Do you have a name we can call you?”

“Call me…Vita. Without me, life on Earth might have never come into existence, so I will accept that as my name. I have to admit, I am glad you did though. Dinosaurs didn’t invent anything and they hogged up the Earth for sixty-five million years. All that time and they didn’t invent, create, or do anything interesting. When I saw the meteor that ended their existence, it was the first time in my existence I did not fulfill my design.”

“Excuse me? You have been around since the dinosaurs?” Manny looked up from sharpening his sword, intrigued but trying to appear nonplussed about the revelation.

“Yes, I let those bastards die.”

“Because they didn’t invent ice cream?”

“No, Engram, because they didn’t do anything. They just existed. Sat around eating plants and each other. Every day, day after day. Nothing changed. Until that moment, the entire universe for me was this tiny blue planet doing absolutely nothing. I knew when I let the comet strike the Earth, I had changed the face of our local reality forever. My choice damned this planet.”

Albrecht looked up from his preoccupation with Sparky and asked, “What does this have to do with today and your current affliction?”

Vita walked to the window and put down his ice cream. “What do you see?” Outside the window had become black as night, there was nothing to see. At first. Then I could see tiny lights twinkling in the distance. Stars. I noticed a section of the sky was blackened out, no stars, nothing visible. A crescent of light appeared at the edge of the blackness and then I realized it was a planet. A planet with three moons.

All pretense of aloofness gone, Manny pressed his face against the glass. “Where are we? Why aren’t we dying? This looks like spaceflight to me.”

“We are looking at Primal Earth. The perfect Earth, with the idealized citizens who make the right decisions, who do things the right way and have made the most correct decisions for everyone who lives there. This is the Earth all of the others are descended from. See that third moon? There is an entire civilization built on the Darkside which acts as a launchpad to the solar colonies established in the early 1900s.”

“Can we see it up close? I always wondered what a perfect world looked like.”

“No. This is the one Earth, I can never visit. My presence would disrupt what is a golden age there. But we came here because I wanted to show you what the Agency has never truly let you understand. Your civilization is one of many, more successful than some, less successful than others and all of you are reflections of this one planet. On Primal Earth, there are three species of Homo Sapiens, intelligent raptors, no over-population, no wasteful developments, travel to the stars, and a Humanity in harmony with itself and the universe around it.”

“What about my kind? Is there a place for my people with the Dark Gift?”

“Yes, on Primal Earth, the Dark Gift is nothing more than a mutation with beneficial capacities making your people tough, durable and fearless explorers of new worlds. The bloodlust, the fear, the destruction have been tempered with wisdom and kindness.”

Color me suspicious by nature, but I simply can’t help myself. “Okay, they have a perfect world and have managed to avoid all of the catastrophes my world did and they are now happy, peaceful and one with the Universe. Why did you bring us here?”

“I have to take you to a few other places to make that clear. You might want to lean back in your chairs. The transition will be jolting.”

I had never experienced pain like this. Every nerve in my body was on fire with each dendrite complete with its own personal torturer. It seemed to go on forever. When the pain stopped, I saw my skin was swollen and distended, blood covered my entire face and I wasn’t sure if I would survive the night. Manny looked almost as bad, especially given his weakened state, only the vitality of youth kept him moving. I looked to the vampire member of our party and found him motionless, still and covered in blood. The elemental sat silently upon his lap unmoving and without any form of elemental display.

“They are dead. While they recover, we shall continue our conversation. Clean yourselves up. We’re going outside.”

I looked outside the window and what I saw was nothing less than the end of the world. Broken buildings littered the landscape of what might have been New York or Shanghai or some other sweeping metropolis whose influence was nothing less than magnificent. Remnants of buildings whose superstructures touched the sky swayed in the hot and dusty winds we experienced as we stopped the train on a section of a monorail that still had a platform near it.

“What happened here?” The air was cloying, hot, oppressive, filled with a sense of futility, of a war that had been fought and lost. Piles of sand were everywhere, and nothing green grew here. As far as the eye could see there was nothing but a war zone. Once I paid attention, I could see craters, as if bombing had taken place. I could see gun emplacements on the tops of the remaining tall buildings. This explained why the tallest were missing their tops. Someone shot them off.

“This is the result of a guardian who was unable to do his job to protect the people of this planet.” Vita stepped onto the platform and reached down to the sand covered ground and picked up a fistful of the fine brown dust. He let it blow between his fingers. The dust was pulled away in the wind.

The city was eerie in its silence. Nothing this big should be this quiet. I strained my hearing to find even a single sign of life.

Then I heard it. A wind that wasn’t a wind. The sound of an aircraft high in the sky. Then I saw it. A contrail. Then two, three, four. The primary contrail continued on but its three spawn changed direction and began to move toward our position.

“Is there something you want to tell us? Now would be a great time.”

“I failed these people. I wasn’t here when they needed me. You will help me make this right.”

“These people are dead. I don’t think we can do anything for them, now. If this was your job, you screwed it up.” Harsh, I know, but it was the truth he needed to hear.

“Don’t lecture me about duty, Ingram, Slayer of Dead Gods, Dog of the Apocalypse, what I need from you is your fury. This was a world filled with twelve billion souls just like your Earth. Are you saying you won’t avenge these people?” Vita was screaming, eyes bulging wide, standing over me and positively intimidating.

“Boss.” Manny tried to get my attention.

I got mad when he reminded me of my family name and the prophecy associated with it. I’ve run from that all my life and was content to keep running. “Avenge them? I didn’t even know they existed beyond a theoretical understanding they could exist! I see you’re having some kind of issue regarding this and it is a tragedy but there is nothing we can do for them at this point.” I grabbed his coat and pushed back trying to draw some kind of reason out of this entity I didn’t truly understand.

“Boss…”

“The part of me stolen on your Earth, prevented me from getting back here in time. I failed them because I didn’t understand Human greed. You must help me make this right. They will not stop here. They will continue to move through the Nexus, devouring Earth after Earth until they reach yours.”

Three explosions occurred less than a mile away from where we were standing. The builders on this Earth, made things to last. The impact of the three projectiles made a lot of noise but very little dust and barely damaged the buildings they landed on. Then they started coming out of the craters.

The creatures on the ground took off, using some form of jet pack. They were humanoid in appearance and dropped out of the sky in seconds, landing all around the monorail platform and aiming strange weapons at us.

Then the howling began. The wind of an elemental burst out of the train car, surrounded with lightning reaching out to whatever was around it. The strange alien armors exploded as the creature struck one after another. After only a few seconds of local devastation, the elemental flew through the air toward the center of the landing spots and grew in size, larger until it dwarfed the sites completely a cyclone of devastation. No new units would join the hundred or so surrounding us.

Then the Vampire left the car behind the elemental. But it wasn’t exactly Albrecht any more. The Dark Gift had become completely manifest, showing him after another thousand years of evolution. His skin had turned completely black. He was swollen with lifeforce, his muscles rippled, veins bulged and his eyes blazed a fiery red. He leapt from the train car and disappeared from sight. Armors exploded one after another. Ripped apart, black blood shot from each, two or three at a time. Albrecht could be seen only for a second as he dispatched foe after foe.

Vita, Manny and I took cover as the aliens began trying to fight back, firing too slowly to track Albrecht. A few who managed to keep their heads tried firing at the three of us and their weapons shot pulses of hot blue light that destroyed whatever it hit. We began to run into the platform seeking cover. Then Manny stopped and screamed. I thought he was hit but he grabbed his head and a black energy started leaking from his eyepatch.

He lifted the eyepatch and a black light shot forth and scoured the sky. Anything it touched, died. Machine, being, technology. Only Albrecht seemed immune. A third of the invaders stopped and died. A few seconds later the black energy stopped and Manny fell over quiescent, mumbling to himself.

Then I felt it too. I was about to try and channel energy when I found myself filled with it. Not my personal qi. This was a dark and necromantic power. The power of angry souls crying out. There were thousands, no as their voice filled me I realized there were millions calling out to me. They filled me. They demanded vengeance. They demanded retribution.

They expected me to get it for them.

On the horizon, a dozen more contrails made their way toward us.

The Phoenix residing within my being, rose from its slumber. It feasted on the souls of the damned, each willingly giving themselves to it. Each increasing its already considerable power.

It took to the sky and I could not stop it. With the zeal of a million souls seeking retribution overcoming my will, I did not want to.

Vita stood and a face slowly formed, a cruel face, sharp and angular. A face that smiled a devil’s smile as the Phoenix streaked toward its prey.

Jump to Motus Vita, Chapter 9

Paranormal 2

Motus Vita (7)

Posted by Ebonstorm on October 8, 2013

Posted in: Chapter, Character Bio, Clifford Engram, Motus Vita, Serial. Tagged: Albrecht, Albrecht Fleisher, ebonstorm, Father Nosceti, Indra's Vajra, lightning spear, Manny, Manny Rodriguez, Night Train, storm elemental, Thaddeus Howze. 1 Comment

A hair divides what is false and true.
–Omar Khayyam

“Since you are late, you can stop and bring me what’s left of my broken servant.” The telepathic message was imperious, haughty and downright pissing me off.

To hell with good impressions.

“Look lady, er fellow, whatever you are, I am not your manservant. I won’t be stopping to pick you up some ice cream, getting your laundry or picking up your servant on my way to an audience with you. Do we have an understanding?”

“Surely.”

The telepathic connection was suddenly gone. “Gentlemen, I’ve just had a conversation with the Night Train. It reminded me we’re officially late.”

I started back toward the train station when I noticed Manny and Albrecht just standing there. I looked in the direction they were staring. Then I could hear this electrical sound like a transformer trying to pass a current. I noticed EMTs grabbed their patients and started running back toward their vehicles.

Police drew their pistols and headed toward the ruins of the church while sparks started jumping and popping around what was left of the storm elemental.

Manny had lifted his eyepatch and slowly walked toward me. “You might want to take a look at that. I don’t think we’re done.”

A quick handsign and I was Looking at what appeared to be a matrix trying to restructure itself. The elemental appeared to have a self-repair capacity. Great.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t mind stopping to pick up my servant?” The telepathic tingle returned and a hint of smugness found its way along the link.

Then I got it. “This thing is yours?”

“He can be taught.”

“Okay, how do we turn it off before more people get hurt.”

“Say nice things to it.” The link grew quiet again.

Pinching between my eyes, I approached the cops. “I need you guys to get back. I’ve got this. I flashed my government ID and they tried not to look too eager to leave the scene. Most all but ran back to their squad cars and put some distance between them and the reforming elemental.

Manny reloaded his shotgun and came up behind me at the ready. “Just say the word.”

“Hello. Can you hear me?” I held out my hand and the lightning discharges began creeping toward it.

“Engram, is that wise?”

“I have it on good authority, it wants to hear nice words, not acts of violence. Manny, put your gun away and bring your friendly voice. Albrecht do you have any animal husbandry in your immortal repertoire of skills?”

“I knew something about animals, but since I have become Gifted, they have little to do with my kind.”

“Well, guess what? You get to be our ambassador.”

“Are you certain you might not be a better ambassador? You are, after all, a user of magic.”

“As I have tried to explain in the past, magic is just another technology where the rules are not known to most people. If you knew the rules, and weren’t already Gifted, you could use magic. It’s just like using a hammer.”

Manny added, “a hammer that tried to kill you when you turned your back on it.”

“Details, my boy, mere details.”

Albrecht studied the elemental. It seemed to be trying to pull itself together. There was something about the static discharges which told me it wasn’t doing well. “Stand back, both of you. Three of us might appear to be threatening. I will approach it alone.” The vampire waved us back and moved slowly toward the downed creature.

He murmured something soft in a language unfamiliar to me. Perhaps his native language. I didn’t know that much about him or his family other than the fact he was one of the possible heirs to his father’s financial empire. I questioned, to no one in particular, how one came into one’s inheritance when your father was immortal and wouldn’t experience True Death unless something bad were to happen to him.

The elemental’s sparking reduced as we moved back and the stink of ozone was lessened. Albrecht was almost standing next to the creature and knelt down close to it. The electrical discharges had almost ceased and a small wind vortex was beginning to form. Dust and debris could be seen being pulled into the creature and disappearing. The elemental seemed to be feeding on the debris as a form of fuel. Perhaps all elementals in addition to being composed of an element, fed on the destruction caused as a means of maintaining themselves. It made sense since they were not native to our world, being here might require a great amount of energy to maintain them.

“Engram. There is a metal device at the center of the wind vortex. It does not appear to be something I would expect to find in a church.”

“Don’t touch it. Let me take a look.” I slid up slowly and Looked. The object was a shaped like a barbell weight, with the two hand shaped ends wrapped around small glass orbs. One of the orbs was broken and a smoke was slowly escaping. In the center of the barbell shape was a third round sphere of black metal or glass. I can’t say I had never seen anything quite like this but Second World items vary so widely, it was hard to say anyone could recognize every single object. If I had my phone, I could have taken a picture and sent it to Home Office and someone might have been able to figure out what it was. As it was, I would have to just take a guess.

“I think this is the focus which was used to bring the elemental here. The two orbs are filled with an incense, representing air. The framework is an object which offers the creature structure. The black stone in the center is the binding focus. By damaging one of the orbs, possibly with the grenade launcher or the lightning strike, we have made it difficult for the creature to reform. But we didn’t kill it. And it is possible it might reform with less control if we leave it here.”

Manny slung his shotgun and sat down a bit of a distance away. “I’m not touching that thing. Anything that tried to kill me a half an hour ago won’t see me at my humanitarian best. You two better draw straws.”

It made sense for me to carry it, having the most experience with magic. “Okay little fellow, we’re going to be taking you home.” I reached out to grab the focus at the center. It was about the size of a loaf of bread. I tried to reach through the vortex of wind and found quite a bit of resistance, a surprising amount, in fact. But the resistance was nothing compared to what I experienced while trying to pick the focus up. It was heavy, easily fifty pounds, but I wasn’t surprised by that fact. What did surprise me was the electrical jolt it gave me when I tried to move it. This was the equivalent of touching a taser.

The unpleasant equivalent.

After ten seconds, I decided to put it back down as gently as I could without throwing it across the parking lot. After I finished cursing I nursed my tingling hand and said, “Okay, I won’t be carrying it. Albrecht, your turn.”

Amused by my expression while I tried to hold on to the focus, the vampire reached out and tensed himself for the shock. The shock that didn’t happen. He whispered something to it and began stroking it like a metal kitten. The electrical patterns and wind vortex steadied and formed around him.

“Okay, you carry it. Whatever. Let’s go.”

“Does that mean you’ll be picking up some ice cream on your way here? My favorite is pistachio.” The telepathic jibe was followed by silence.

On the way to the train station, we past a convenience store and grabbed a pint of pistachio ice cream. At this point, it couldn’t hurt and I did owe the Train for telling us how to deal with the storm elemental.

“If you can talk telepathically, why am I coming to meet with you? For that matter, if you could talk telepathically, why haven’t you explained what you wanted to whoever took your part? While were at it, can you connect the others so I don’t have to tell them what you said?”

“These two are your companions for the journey?” the question seemed a bit odd but I let it go.

“Yes, for the duration, we three are a Company.”

“You mean, you four. I think the elemental likes your friend. I can share information with all of you.”

Albrecht’s mind came into the link and I perceived it as a cold, reptilian intelligence, all anger, all hunger, patient and cunning. Manny was the opposite, a bright, hot and eager mind, absorbing information, analysing everything around it; these two were polar opposites in a way that was frightening. It was only the geas holding Albrecht back from ripping Manny apart. And it was only Manny’s love for me, keeping him from emptying a shotgun filled with specialized rounds whose contents included holy water, silver nitrate and sharpened silver splinters into Albrecht and tearing him into vampire salsa. Even if the rounds didn’t kill him directly, it would make him vulnerable enough for Manny’s silver edged sword to dice him into manageable pieces.

And as usual, I was stuck somewhere between two extremes, living up to my name again.

As we descended the steps into the train station, the normal awe of Grand Central Station fell back against the mental energies as we approached the Night Train. The closer we got to it, the less the real world seemed to matter to us. I felt as if I was trapped in a surrealists painting with the world melting around me, becoming incoherent and unknowable.

As we approached the train, it continued its explanation from earlier. “I could have communicated telepathically but only with people who have been aboard the train before or know someone who has. Hence the reason you were summoned. To fully explain though, you will need to take a trip with me to understand why it is important for me to get the part back.”

“You can still travel without the part?” I was still trying to grasp the nature of the problem.

The Night Train’s response had the psychic equivalent of a chuckle. “Of course. There isn’t anything being done while I am on Earth that would be significant to me. The part they stole is necessary for humans to travel with me. Without it, I simply am unable to carry people to their new destinations.”

“Excuse me, you need this part for humans to travel with you? What happens to people who travel with you without this part?” Manny, ever practical took the words right out of my head.

“Without it, people can become lost to the forces of Chaos which comprise my being. They can be spontaneously turned into other objects, lose vital organs or even their skeletons. It is unpredictable.”

Albrecht who, up until this point, had been bonding with his new electrical friend, looked up and commented as if nothing said up to this point mattered, “If you had planned to kill us, you would not have bothered to tell us what it took to bring this beast back to you. So you must have a means to protect us. Stop playing with us and tell us what you really want.”

“Are all the Gifted as unpleasant as this one?”

Before Manny could evince his opinion, I thought it would be better if I answered. “No, not all of them are as angry or ill-mannered as Albrecht here, but he has extenuating circumstances. His older brothers have been trying to kill him for at least a century.” I only learned this recently when I was reviewing reports about New York’s Red Watch and its convoluted politics. His brothers were unpleasant members of a new faction, similar to the one that tried to kill their collective sire all those years ago. This probably explains why Albrecht had been hiding with Father Nosceti.

“I wouldn’t have called it hiding, Engram.”

“Sorry. Thinking out loud. No offense meant.”

“None taken. Inaccurate as your thinking may have been.”

“We’re here bearing storm elementals and ice cream. You haven’t told us how you plan to carry us without turning us into a pudding or surrealistic art.”

The platform where the train waited for us, was shrouded in a low-lying fog, the stuff you see in horror movies and ninth grade proms. Very theatrical and over the top. The train was of a design I had never seen before, something strange, made of a bronze metal. I suspected its appearance was part of the surrealistic aura surrounding the train and I was certain it would change again before too long. Ghostly shapes moved around it, looking busy and efficient. They stayed far away from us.

The sections of the train near us were not lit and appeared to be passenger cars. There were fewer lights at the platform levels. Grand Central without people was already an eerie thing, the lights and the fog only added to the creep factor. Our pet elemental’s energies charged up and began whipping the low-lying fog around his vampire warder. Sparks shot out with the creature making a popping sound like a terrier barking.

Suddenly the doors opened, a blast of air came out and three or four shadows stepped onto the platform.

The shadows approached us, silently, their intent unknown. The psychic link apparently broken, I could no longer sense anyone’s thoughts. The Train was no longer in our heads.

Albrecht’s right hand dropped down and his vampiric claws grew long and shiny. I knew he could carve his way through a brick wall with those. Manny’s guns effortlessly appeared in his hands, safeties clicking off his custom-made Sigs. I hadn’t received a tingle from my curse marks but I couldn’t take any chances.

I charged my cane and readied the lightning spear. Its blue illumination seemed pale and weak in this magical darkness.

As its light pierced the darkness, we saw four more storm elementals headed right for us, their energies contained in humanoid forms.

They raised hands crackling with energy.

I dropped the bag with the pistachio ice cream.

Jump to Motus Vita, chapter 8

Paranormal 2

Motus Vita (6)

Posted by Ebonstorm on October 5, 2013

Posted in: Chapter, Character Bio, Motus Vita, Serial. Tagged: Albrecht Fleisher, ebonstorm, Father Nosceti, Indra's Vajra, lightning spear, Manny Rodriguez, Night Train, storm elemental, Thaddeus Howze. Leave a comment

hand_element__channel_lightning_by_tvlookplay-d5qznov

And the things that we fear are a weapon to be held against us.
— Ian Rush

Fifteen minutes can turn your entire world upside down. You get this on good authority.

I made this trip just to see what Agency informant, Father Nosceti wanted to tell me about the recent threat levied by the Night Train. The very fact he asked for me made me suspect he was involved.

Instead I found myself in a life and death struggle against an old vampiric enemy trying to finish something he started fifteen years ago. The situation escalated out of control. Names were called, geases were made, apologies were not.

After I got the vampire incident under some measure of control, the illusion was shattered by hearing a new sound followed immediately by screaming, gunfire and weirdly echoing car alarms whose wails were distorted by a dense and supernatural fog.

Now you know everything I know. Feel informed? Nope? Good, then we are all in agreement…

Ten seconds ago, there was the sound like a bomb had just been dropped in front of the church.

“What the hell was that?”

Nosceti waved and his guards split up, two went into the inner office and the other two took up station next to him. “Follow me. We’re leaving through the back.”

Given the screams I heard downstairs, intermixed with a liberal amount of machine gun fire, this seemed like a sound strategy. Manny was getting his color and I helped him to his feet.

Albrecht peeled off the scraps of what was left of his shirt and put on his jacket over his pale marbled flesh. His arteries and veins showed through his opalescent skin and he pulsed with infernal power. Power stolen from my friend.

“How many men did you have stationed downstairs?”

“You didn’t Look?, Nosceti’s answer was tinted with sarcasm.

“I was trying to be polite.” I replied. Manny stood up, nodded and I let him go.

“There were at least fifteen.” Nosceti followed his men and Albrecht brought up the rear behind Manny. I took point because I figured Manny would still be pulling himself together. He would be safest between Albrecht and I.

“Were these your best men?” Albrecht whispered as we descended a stairwell heading toward the rear of the church.

“Some of them, why do you ask?”

“Because there are a fewer of them now than there were ten minutes ago.” The vampire’s comment was dry as if he were giving a weather report.

We picked up our pace as we descended into an underground tunnel.

“Do you plan to tell me what this is all about? The short version that gets me information before I get killed by a ravaging horror.”

“I worked for some people who had it in their mind to use the Night Train as a means of smuggling… items along its route. So they inserted some people undercover in an effort to infiltrate the Train and try to become a member of the Riders, the permanent members of the Train’s staff.”

“None of them came back, did they?” I already knew this story. The Agency had tried it too. Anyone who was inserted with the goal of becoming a Rider never returned. Their memories were wiped and they forget they ever knew a life outside the Train.

The tunnel was longer than I thought and we could hear the fight in the distance growing louder.

“So we did the next best thing. We found out how the Train moved the way it did and tried to replicate it. But there was a key component missing. Teleportation is an unreliable magic and no one has managed to ever make it work well enough to commercialize it. Anytime we used the teleport markings we copied from the train, the caster died.”

Rats passed us on the way through the tunnel, only increasing my desire to get above ground to get the lay of the land.

Nosceti continued, “The circles worked, the product was moved. But no one was willing to die to cast a single spell to move something the size of a loaf of bread. The feedback from the spell simply fried the mage.”

Again, not news. The Agency eventually found a way around these limitations but we didn’t share that information. Even our method had some risks… “So what did you do? Because I sense what you did next is how you ended up in this situation, isn’t it?”

“Yes, we decided what was missing was the power source that allowed the train to move between dimensions. So we stole it. It wasn’t protected or even hidden on the train. We weren’t sure how to use it and we didn’t know what it did, completely, but we stole it and went underground. It cost us fifty of our best magicians to determine how it worked but it did. For a while.”

“What happened, then?”

The secret passage lead into the far end of the church’s parking lot. In case the place was ever rousted Nosceti could exit the church and look as if he wasn’t even on the property. Now over a hundred feet from the building in an open parking lot, we could hear voices from the side of the structure. People ran and screamed in horror. We didn’t see anything, at first. Some of them fell over clutching their throats and after a few moments, fell still, contorted in apparent agony. The rest of the story was going to have to wait for a second.

“Manny, tell me what you see.” He took a deep breath before lifting his eyepatch and looking around.

“There is a miasma rolling away from whatever it is that’s making short work of the Father’s men. I think it was a side effect of its arrival. It appears to be fading away.” He folded his eyepatch back down.

Since he lost the eye all those years ago, I had a replacement made that would allow him to see sources of magic.

“Do you hear that ?” Now that we were outside, it was easier to make out something besides the pop of gunfire. I looked around and noticed some of the trees near the front of the church were whipping around wildly, while the trees at the back were barely moving. It was a tightly localized wind. Something reminiscent of a tornado. Living in the Midwest, this was a sound you became familiar with and after you saw your first tornado up close, you never forgot it. Before I could try to figure out where it was, the rest of the church exploded.

Whatever had been tearing its way through the church had reached the rear of the church and made short work of what was left. The collapse of the main structure fell away behind the creature, adding to the dust in the air. The side walls of the church were still partially intact and provided a bit of cover for the remaining shooters.

Nosceti’s men leapt out of the subterranean tunnel and ran to their armored car. One opened the door, the other gathered a larger firearm from the trunk. The second pair picked Nosceti up and ran with him between them.

Once the dust cleared, it was a storm elemental that stood in the rubble of the church. Imagine if someone had given a storm the shape of a man and made it twenty feet tall. A cloud of windswept debris was caught in its aura and it hurled this debris at Nosceti’s men trying to buy their boss time to escape with their lives. Two were speared through the chests and pinned against cars like rag dolls.

“Fire in the hole!” was shouted by two men as they ran back along the side of the church trying to put some distance between them and their target before firing their grenade launcher.

They managed to get their round off before the creature gestured and lightning struck them both. They turned from live men to dead ones. The scent of burnt flesh wafted acridly through the windswept air. The grenade struck the elemental and exploded within its confines, igniting debris within it for a second. Then the light of the burning material went out. But the elemental’s form became looser, and less cohesive. Poor bastards had managed to damage it.

The roar it released as a response to being injured was unbearable.

Mix a steam whistle, an imploding building and a the roar of the Number 6 Express train at two feet from your nose and you have a sample of what this thing sounded like while it screamed.

Then it roared again and this time it had words. “GIVE IT TO ME!”

At our distance, we could barely stand it. You could feel it like it was inside of you, a sound that wanted to liquify your organs. People who were closer than we were, just dissolved into piles of pulpy flesh. It was horrible. Nosceti didn’t pay enough for that.

I reached into the car and grabbed the good Father. His flunky standing outside moved toward me and I ignited the lightning spear tip on my cane given to me by Magistar Tracy. He decided to stay out of this particular conversation.

“What did you take? And where did you take it? And you better tell me, because I am of a mind to step out of the way and let it have you.”

“They didn’t tell me where they took it. All they told me was it was more important than we knew.” Nosceti was becoming unglued, the presence of this storm elemental was screwing with his magical affinity.

He was untrained. His power more an aspect of his natural charisma, he lacked the discipline required to use it with sorcerous intent. A being like this elemental would resonate with his power and terrify him since it exposed him to the pure energy of the Eye of Knowledge. Such an unshielded exposure could warp his psyche.

“What did they call it? Those mystics you hired must have had some idea what they were dealing with. They wouldn’t have bothered otherwise. Spit it out.”

“YOU!” The storm turned in our direction, evidently something about Nosceti stood out to its mystical senses. The shout in our direction caused the security guard with the rifle to flee toward the fence and as he tried to climb it, there was a spontaneous electrical discharge and he fell away to the ground. This thing was starting to bleed electricity into all nearby metals.

Nosceti was screaming to be heard over the noise. “They called it ‘Indra’s Vajra’, that’s all I know. I have to go, I have to get out of here!” Nosceti pushed me away as the driver peeled out of the lot. Leaving Manny, Albrecht and I standing there. Unbeknownst to Nosceti, his untimely getaway might have just saved our lives.

“Cover your ears, I shouted to them.” The elemental seemed more upset than ever as the car pulled away. It had barely begun to move before turning toward the fleeing limousine. I turned the air before us into a dense medium slowing it just enough to prevent the sound from moving as cleanly, buffering the entity’s shout. I imagined the air molecules refusing to move to carry the sound.

“GIVE IT TO ME!” A wave of sonic energy ripped from the creature causing the ground in front of the creature to shred and rip like a pinata at a hungry kid’s party. The wave struck Nosceti’s car and tore it apart, shattering glass, fracturing metal and presumably shearing flesh and bone.

My hands shook with the force of the halted vibrations. I flexed and shook them to relieve the cramp from holding the air still.

As the scraps of Nosceti’s car slid to a halt, the elemental began emitting discharges of electrical energy. It was breaking down, becoming unstable. The electrical discharges were shooting out in every direction striking everything taller than a blade of grass.

“On your bellies. And stay there. I mean it. That’s enough electricity to kill even you, Albrecht.”

There was an old sedan next to me. Didn’t know the owner and I’m certain they wouldn’t approve but if we survived this, I would buy them a new car.

Extending the lightning blade from my cane, I sliced off the back end of the car straight through to the rear tire. Yes, I could have been more elegant, but I was pressed for time. Ten seconds was about all I had. Three good slices and the car tire fell off the axle and landed on it’s side. I stood up on the tire and prepared to channel more electricity than I had ever imagined.

A good lightning bolt from a storm had about a million volts of electricity. A storm elemental might not put out the same level of energy as a good storm but I had already seen it was capable of frying anyone caught by its powers. All I had on my side was the fact the creature was dissipating so its energy would be less than it’s peak performance.

I am not a mage. Not in the classic sense. Magistar Tracy was a mage. Someone who had dedicated a significant portion of their study to the manipulation of elemental energies.

Me? I’m a hack. I knew something about elemental energies, I could create simple ones, I could manipulate minor representations, turn a campfire into a bonfire, turn a match into a blowtorch, but these were parlor tricks compared to what most magi could do. If we had a mage here, he would be able to catch that lightning, play with it, make it sing an aria and throw it back with something extra.

As a hack, I could manipulate electricity, turn lights on and off, start a car without a key, run a computer for a minute without a power source, I could even act like a taser with just two fingers. As a hack, I could catch that lightning, channel it though my body, and redirect it back to the source. With some preparation or a circle or a sigil, I could do a bit more but that took time and preparation of which were in short supply.

All I could hope was it didn’t kill me before I was able to redirect its energy.

My cane did its job. With the lightning spear still extended, and using the magical principle of contagion, like attracts like, the lightning was drawn to me. It caught the discharge high in the sky away from Manny and Albrecht. The tire acted as an insulator to prevent me from grounding out.

Then the discharge traveled though my spell-charged body and out through my right hand, riding my cursed marks back to the target. I could see the surprise on its face as the redirected energy disrupted its elemental form. As it passed through me, I changed its nature, sort of converting it from AC to DC. Now it was a weapon against itself.

It shrieked and with a gust of wind, expired.

I was about to cheer, when my chest felt as if an elephant was standing on it. Heart attack. Not the good kind that comes on slowly. This is the other one. The one that arrives like a mugger in a dark alley with a bat and no remorse.

My breath seized up in my chest and I didn’t remember anything after that.

When I woke up, Manny was leaning over me, on his knees, dripping sweat into my blinking eyes. “Tell me you weren’t just kissing me.” I asked with every breath being agony.

“When I’m saving your life, its called mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. You were down for nearly fifteen minutes. I was about to call it.”

Albrecht stood over me looking down, decidedly unhappy. “You were dead, Engram, for quite some time, but your loyal lapdog wouldn’t leave you. Even when it was apparent you were too far gone.”

“If you thought I was dead, why didn’t you just leave?” I already suspected the answer, I was just curious to see if he would be honest about it.

“The geas would not allow it.” He was all but sulking when he said it.

“The same geas that didn’t let you kill Manny while I was ‘dead’ either.”

“Indeed. The same.”

“So you knew I wasn’t past saving otherwise you would have killed Manny and rifled my dead body for loose change.” The vampire pretended not to hear me.

The elemental’s wind had died down and with the loss of the wind, the fog returned, thicker than ever. Emergency vehicles were everywhere. Their existence confirmed the fact I was still among the living because I was very annoyed by flashing lights. The shrouding fog didn’t help, making them brighter and more annoying.

Manny stood me up and looked into my eyes with a flashlight. I resisted the urge to smack his hand away. Manny had been a corpsman during his time in the military, a fact I tried to appreciate from time to time.

“Pupils are responsive. You’ll make it. You might want to see someone about that ticker though.”

“Next time you get the urge to kiss all over me, you will be taking me out for more than pizza.”

“Whatever, boss.” Manny shook his head and smiled.

I took out my phone to check the time and found it little more than an electrically fried brick. “Any idea of what time it is?”

That’s when I felt it. There was a tingling, an invasive feeling, the feeling you get when your parents are looking through your sock drawer for your secret porn stash. I felt exposed and resisted the urge to cover my privates as I looked around for the source of the telepathic invasion. Then I realized it wasn’t a human mind, this was something vast, something whose mind was clearly as far beyond human intelligence as humans were above cockroaches.

The problem with telepathy is it’s a two way street, you can’t look without being seen. What I saw for a few seconds, took my breath away, then the message came through and I realized who was talking. It was the Night Train.

“Clifford Engram, you are late.”

So much for making a good impression.

Jump to Motus Vita, chapter 7

Paranormal 2

Motus Vita (5)

Posted by Ebonstorm on September 29, 2013

Posted in: Clifford Engram, Fantasy, horror, Motus Vita, Serial. Tagged: Albrecht Fleisher, church, Father Nosceti, fog, light cage, magic, New York City, Night Train, sigils, The Voice. 1 Comment

a tale of clifford engram

“In racing, they say that your car goes where your eyes go. The driver who cannot tear his eyes away from the wall as he spins out of control will meet that wall; the driver who looks down the track as he feels his tires break free will regain control of his vehicle.”
― Garth Stein, The Art of Racing in the Rain

Looking out the window of Father Nosceti’s raggedy little church I could see the fog that heralded the arrival of the Night Train enshroud New York City. I was running out of time. Time is relative, or so the quote by Einstein went.

When you are with someone you love, time is fleeting, when you’re burning your hand on the stove, time goes on forever. I’ve also realized that when you are in the wrong, a second can seem like forever while you figure out how to make it right.

If your memory’s good, you remember Manny, my esteemed associate, who emptied his handgun into the surprising voice of a longtime enemy and the last person we expected to find in the office of a witness protection candidate, Father Nosceti. The voice belonged to a vampire, Albrecht Fleischer, whom I had hoped to never lay eyes upon again.

Manny’s response to Albrecht was completely understandable. Secretly, though I will never admit it, I would have loved to put seven or eight bullets into Albrecht myself but this was not the time, nor the place.

Granted, Albrecht did kill his extended family. And his reason was one of expedience, not because he was starving, or because there might be a reason which might make killing a man’s family understandable or acceptable in the right circumstances, a war, or because they were carriers of a deadly plague. He killed them because they were in his way. This was a scene about to get out of hand.

And I had about one second to put it down, before it spun completely out of control.

As the bullets dropped from Albrecht’s outstretched hand, I remembered they were our bullets. Marked, sealed and sigiled for flavor.

Manny and I have worked together for nearly fifteen years and one of the reasons I don’t carry a gun is because he does. No need to replicate what is already being done better by someone else was my thinking. I used my unique skill of channeling to take advantage of our teamwork.

Using my cane, I tapped it on the ground and I activated the runes on the bullets and each came to life a spear of light pinning the vampire to the floor as spikes of light cut through him.

In their current state, they wouldn’t hurt him because I didn’t want them to. This version of the spell is meant to only immobilize him. Giving me perhaps ten seconds to make this right.

Before I can say a thing, Father Nosceti finding the situation intolerable, boomed out a surprisingly powerful “Stop!”

Everyone was momentarily frozen in varying states of weapon readiness. The four bodyguards were in action, doors bursting open and very large caliber firearms swinging into place after the first rounds were fired.

The two in the room had already taken positions in front of Nosceti, ready to protect him from vampire, mage and mercenary alike.

Manny had already dropped his first clip and reloaded, determined to meet Albrecht’s charge with a gun in his hand. Knowing him like I do, this second clip was filled with something of a more vampire-killing nature.

By activating the light cage, I hoped to avoid any further escalation. It only would hold Albrecht for a minute.

“You are all my guests. Put your weapons away. Now.” Nosceti’s display of power, faded as he fell back to his chair coughing violently. His gift was his voice, a tool of seduction, coercion, and if necessary, mind control.

After his relocation into witness protection, all of the Agency’s operatives were rendered immune to its power. It had also been limited keeping him from utilizing it with the strength he had in his youth. In these close quarters, it was still quite effective.

“Remove your spell, or I will break your long bones, slowly sucking the marrow while you watch.” The vampire was already testing the limits of the light cage, but since part of it was formed from the bullets embedded in his flesh, he was pinned from within and without.

We used this spell when we have to return targets alive to headquarters, or when we need to make a barrier to aid in a hasty retreat. He wasn’t going to break it for another minute, no matter what he tried.

I pushed Manny’s gun down slowly and he seemed to return to something resembling sanity. His pathological hatred of vampires had saved our lives more times than I can count so I was willing to forgive this breach of protocol.

“Lord Fleischer, we beg your forgiveness. We were not aware you were a guest of Father Nosceti. I will release you at once.” Tapping my cane on the floor again, the light cage fell away and the vampire fell unceremoniously to the ground.

He stood up, brushed himself off as if nothing had happened. He reached up to his chest, plucking the remaining two bullets from his undead flesh and handed them to me as if he had just plucked a couple of flowers. “I demand blood tribute for this affront. His attack cannot go unpunished. Shall he be paying for it, Engram, or will you?”

“Is that necessary, in this time of crisis, Albrecht?” Nosceti had regained his composure, apparently surprised that the vampire would invoke the blood tribute for having been wronged. This was an Old World tradition, rarely used, and generally a thing done only between vampire leaders and their thralls.

As the room absorbed the request, everyone returned to their positions and Albrecht loomed over me, his Scandinavian heritage displayed in his height and build. His blond hair waved over his face, contorted with barely contained rage.

He was within his right and I had to balance our current needs over his pride. I could challenge it and delay it, but he would want need to escalate it making it a physical challenge which could end in death.

Now that I think about it. That may have been exactly what he wanted.

I didn’t have time for his petty revenge politics. “I will bleed for his sin.”

Manny immediately pushed his way between us. Being larger and more imposing Manny looked Albrecht in his eyes while he spoke, “No, boss. I can’t have you doing that. We might need you whole later.”

I am not going to pretend I am happy with what happened next. It was just another sign of a day going straight to Hell.

Albrecht finished pushing me to the side and before I could even protest had snapped his mouth on Manny’s neck and the sick popping sound accompanied his piercing of his flesh. His fangs slashed into his carotid artery and Manny’s body tensed up like he was being electrocuted. Part of the horror of the bite of the vampire is the conflicted emotions while you are in the throes of the event. The bite is an orgasmic event masking the horror of what is happening. But to make it worse, the victim knows they are dying, even while they are unable to resist, only adding to the energies absorbed by the vampire.

Vampires feed on the blood and the terror of the victim combining them in the form of a powerful magic infused into the flesh of the vampire. The older the vampire, the greater the spiritual energy bound within their flesh. Since most vampires are incapable of active magic use, they grow more powerful with age, increasing their supernatural abilities which can vary depending on their family bloodline.

Albrecht was also transfixed, his rock-hard vampiric form had become a statue, nearly-invulnerable, a self-defense mechanism against several different vampire predators known to attack them since they are immobile during feeding. Vampires may be an apex predator in their own shard but the ecosystem of their world is as durable and dangerous as they are.

I twisted my cane on the floor, grinding its hardened tip into the wood. The teak, alive in my hand responded to my emotional state, and had begun storing my excess emotional energy, weaponizing it for potential use. I was already rolling the two bullets Albrecht gave back to me in my hand, connecting the flesh and the viscera which he was so kind to provide to me, to a powerful spell. One strong enough to kill him dead, if I wanted it to.

And maybe if I didn’t.

My spell would turn him into ash. And there wouldn’t be anything he could do about it. But that was only because he had given me his viscera-covered flesh on the bullets. Without them, his natural damage resistance would make him one of the most dangerous supernatural creatures on Earth, after angels or demons, with werewolves pulling into third place.

So your next question is likely to be why isn’t the world overrun with these terrifying and frightening undead supermen?

Vampire propagation is limited by two things. The first was, to make a new vampire, you had to have a willing subject. Part of the magic of creating vampires is tapping into the spiritual void within a soul. The greater void, the more powerful the vampire childe.

This means people who don’t want to become vampires, don’t believe they can become vampires, or simply refuse to embrace the darkness will not become a vampire even if their sire wants them to.

This means the creation of a childe is is not taken lightly, and each potential candidate is screened carefully. They have to be willing, sane and not so void obsessed that they go berserk in a few years and end up attacking their sire’s holdings, killing the help, destroying their house and maybe even attacking and killing their sire. The void was the source of a vampire’s power.

The second and riskier proposition was that creating a new vampire caused a profound weakness in the sire. A prolonged weakness that cannot be overcome until their child is secured spiritually. The sire creates a spiritual connection with their child and during this time a vampire is weakened and easily attacked.

Most vampires have to be surrounded by loyal acolytes whom they can trust during this period of vulnerability and usually go into seclusion when they find a worthy candidate.

The final word on vampire reproduction is the leadership of the Councils of the Red Watch. With the controls set by the Council, creating a new vampire cannot be done unless a vampire is destroyed.

They are a zero-population species. They rigidly control their numbers because even with such limitations, it could be possible for them to overpopulate an area in a matter of a few generations devastating the human population. But long before that happened, human fear would cause them to find the vampires during the day when they have none of their abilities and kill them. Historical record attested to this.

I knew Albrecht was taking his time, trying to cause as much fear as possible. At the rate, the average vamp draws blood, a pint a minute or so if they are trying to be neat or to extend suffering. It’s been two minutes.

Two and a half. Nosceti is staring at me. Intently. I realized why in a second. My cane was beginning to glow. I was so intent on my watch, I had lost track of my cane and its absorption of my crazy. At two minutes and forty-five seconds. I began to change my grip on cane. As I picked it up off the floor, all four guards drew down on me. I didn’t care.

At three minutes and thirty seconds, the killing would commence.

He began to slow at three. But he did not release him. I charged my cane and raised it above my head. The guards pointed at me, pointedly. Nosceti’s face was emotionless and he hadn’t moved but his guards seemed in tune with his desires and moved as one.

So no one was more surprised than I when they didn’t shoot me.

At three minutes and fifteen seconds, I struck Albrecht with my cane and his protective layer of psychic energy shattered. The blow blasted his shirt and jacket off of his body. His ghost-white flesh resounded like I had struck a marble statue.

He didn’t stop. I drew back and struck him again, this time releasing my crazy stored in cane with the force of bomb. Blood formed where I struck this time and he loosed his bite but did not stop drinking.

My third blow was designed to tear him asunder, releasing all of my channeled anger. The light came back to his eyes in time to catch my cane with his hand as I brought it down for the third time. He had the blood frenzy in his eyes. He had no intention of stopping if I hadn’t attacked him.

He dropped Manny’s limp form and whipped his clawed hand toward my face. This was going to hurt.

“ALBRECHT!” Nosceti’s voice froze the very air in the room around the vampire.

Frozen, his claws tickling my cheek with tiny beads of blood forming at the very tips. Like a vengeful angel he stood perfectly still, as the fire faded from his eyes.

I dropped to the ground to scoop up my friend wiping my cheek along the way. I drew a sigil with the blood from my cheek on the center of his icy-cold forehead. I channeled my qi into him, activating the rune. As my qi entered his body, I could feel the psychic ravages left by his attack.

The Eye of Harmony opened and closed. The spell was successful and he would be as alright as anyone could be under those circumstances, minus three and a half pints of blood.

When I looked up Albrecht had taken up his seat in the corner, this time without the mood lighting. I picked up my cane and strode to the corner.

“I invoke Blood debt. You damaged him more than you had to.” I was rolling the two bullets in my pocket trying to consider the ramifications of turning him into a smoking pile of ash. Did I want to have to explain to his father, the head of the local Red Watch Council?

“What foolishness are you playing at Engram? I took tribute. It was my due.”

Suffer not a monster to live. I closed my eyes and prepared myself to launch the spell.

Nosceti stood up and with the support of his guard hobbled to where the vampire was sitting and looked him dead in the eye. “You took advantage. I agree with Engram. You owe the Blood debt. I have dealt with your family long enough to know the traditions and I know that you do. You took tribute and then you damaged his friend. Given his mission tonight, he would have needed his friend at a higher capacity than you have left him. So you must accompany him until his quest is complete or until you save the life of his friend or his master. That is the law.”

Albrecht’s eyes flashed red. Not the ordinary thing vampires do when they just want to scare the hell out of people. No this was the other kind of red.

That horrifying thing they do just before they burn all of their inner energy in an orgy of destruction. They can supercharge themselves utilizing their lifeforce until it burns out. During that time they cannot be harmed physically and even magic can barely touch them.

This vampire blitzkrieg lasts about two minutes.

You would be shocked to discover how much damage a tweaked out, vampire on a meth-rage explosion of their total accumulated life-energy stolen over the course of their immortality can wreck. I have seen bomb scenes that didn’t match the pure devastation of this act of self-destruction.

Then the light faded, his blue eyes chilled me to the bone.

“I pledge myself to you, Clifford Engram in the place of your man, whom I have wronged.” These were the formal words, but there was no submission, no obeisance, none of the reverence the words were supposed to have. He spat each one at me like bullets. “Until such time as I return to you the hurt I have caused. Only then will my words, release me.”

I could feel the geas cover all three of us, binding us together in a spiritual obligation powered by his blood. In addition to hating this monster who just harmed my friend, now I was stuck with him until he is released by the efforts of his blood geas.

What else could go wrong?

A modem’s squeal broke the awkward silence, as it indicated the sound of an incoming fax message. Nosceti flicked his head and one of the guards disappeared in the back. He came back a few seconds later with a piece of paper which he handed to back to the old man.

He laid it on the table and the message was scrawled in big letters: ‘It knows where you are. Get out.’

“Now if we are all done trying to kill each other for the rest of the evening, I can explain what I brought you all together for in the first place.” Nosceti is helped back to his desk while I helped Manny to one of the chairs which got pushed out of the way in our altercation. “As I was trying to explain before our little incident. I know why the Night Train is here, and its my fault.”

Then the building rocked like a bomb just went off outside. A second later, car alarms and screams filled the air.

Jump to Motus Vita, chapter 6

Motus Vita (4)

Posted by Ebonstorm on September 22, 2013

Posted in: Chapter, Clifford Engram, Fantasy, Motus Vita, Serial. Tagged: Albrecht, church, combat shotgun, formative experiences, Grand Central Station, Manny Rodriguez, Night Train, police, Thaddeus Howze @ebonstorm, Vampire, weapons cache, WPLongform. Leave a comment

Manny drove us down to 42nd Street and Grand Central Station.

The entire area was cordoned off so we were forced to park about five blocks away and walk back. There were dozens of police, paramilitary and military people moving people and traffic out of the area. New Yorkers were a bit more skittish than I remembered them but for the most part were easily redirected away toward other destinations.

It took us a minute to get parked since the police were moving everyone out of the neighborhood, so we were forced to wave our badges around until people left us alone. Manny took his taxi magnet off the roof and put up his police magnet complete with flashing light. Then we just parked on the curb like all the other cops did.

We had about an hour to go and I wanted to be on time. Not everyday you got to meet an officially self-sustaining, high order, Chaos manifestation face to face, or face to train, as it were. Wouldn’t do to be late.

Manny popped the boot, the trunk for you Westerners, and showed me his handy weapons cache. These were the weapons he used when he was on an Agency sanctioned mission and needed some quick stopping power. There were a variety of small arms, shotguns, an AR-15 and a variety of already loaded weapon belts for all of this ammo. His formative experiences with the Second World left him with a strong desire to be prepared.

He offered me something from his first selection and when I refused, he mistook my refusal to mean I wanted something more exotic. He then moved to a black gym bag and touched it. He added a simple incantation while he unzipped it.

Once opened, a cold wind sighed from the bag and dropped the temperature in the immediate area twenty degrees. He reached in, leaning all the way to his shoulder and pulled out a frost rimmed bag with a shape coded metal chip on the strap. Inside was a fully automatic combat shotgun. One of his personal favorites. He pulled the shotgun out of the smaller bag and checked the action.

Knowing Manny, it was just a reflex, because I knew when he put it in there, it was already in top working condition. He loaded it, strapped it on and put on its accompanying ammo belt under his long coat which, not coincidentally, looked like mine. He also packed a machete in the coat and two nine millimeter handguns. He checked his ammo, noting the variety of sigils hand carved onto each round. Designed to stop a variety of Second Worlders, each was intricately handcrafted in his spare time.

He fingered a long handled mace lovingly and looked at me.

“Really?” was my reply to that quizzical look.

“You never know.”

“You are already carrying enough ordinance to fight your way through half a dozen grizzly bears and a regiment of the National Guard, I think we’ll be safe enough.” he dropped the mace back into its protective baggy and placed it in the Gym Bag of Many Things.

After fitting himself, Manny stood there, trunk still open. “No piece? This isn’t London or Wales or wherever the hell you’ve been working. This is New York. Everyone is armed here.”

I opened my coat and showed him my rune-carved long knife, half a dozen throwing blades and my spell-enhanced walking cane. He laughed and said what he always said when I eschewed a firearm. “Hokey religions and magic powers are no substitute for a good nine-millimeter.”

“That is why I have you, Manny Rodriguez.”

“Fair enough. Where to, Boss?”

“Something quick to eat. Don’t want to meet a god on an empty stomach.”

We found a pizzeria not too far from Grand Central and needless to say the pizza was magnificent. No matter where I lived, no place made pizza like New York. Yes, Chicago I am talking to you. We stood there eating our giant slices, wordlessly savoring it, until we had reached a point where our hunger would permit conversation.

“Have you worked out what you’re gonna say to the Night Train?” I saw Manny smiling over his mouthful of pizza but I knew the question had serious implications. I hadn’t a clue.

“Honestly, I thought about it all the way here and I have no idea of what to say. I don’t even know who I am going to be talking to. The train normally has people working on-board so I figure I’ll be talking to one of them.”

“Protocol Zero. Still no idea what it means? I mean there are eight to ten million people in New York. It surely can’t mean to make that many people disappear, can it?”

I was going to explain the level of information we didn’t have on what the Night Train was before I got that tingling in my arm that told me, trouble was on its way. I thought it meant the Night Train was arriving early.

Manny’s hyper-vigilance was already on it. “Boss, two o’clock. Two suits, not Feds.”

I wiped my mouth and took up my cane. Two burly fellows, carrying, nice suits, Italian-cut. Not broke. Clean cut, well shaven. Too much jewelry for Feds. Their shoes were well-worn. Working men. My initial assessment was Mafia or at least criminally-associated. I waved Manny down as they drew closer. No need for shooting if there didn’t need to be. I thought I recognized their leader.

There were four of them, two up front, two further back across the street. They were most likely just watchers, there was too much traffic for them to do much if I was as dangerous as they thought I was. “Do you remember me, Mr. Engram? I work for…”

“David D’Amico.”

“He prefers to be called Father Nosceti, these days, sir.” The leader was a massive fellow, easily six two and three feet wide. Even so, his suit was custom fitted and by a fine tailor. Being a criminal didn’t mean one had to dress like one.

“What can I do for you? I am on a schedule. If it’s just a friendly visit he’s looking for, it will have to wait until I finished my work.” I knew as I said it, it was likely to be anything but friendly.

“Father Nosceti would like just a few minutes of your time, Mr. Engram. He said it would be okay if you felt more comfortable with your bodyguard along.”

“It’s just a few blocks away. We’ll make it back in time for your appointment.” With those words, they assumed I would follow and began walking away up the street. They never looked back. I decided to let my curiosity get the better of me. The timing was too close to be coincidental. They knew I would be here. I wanted to know why.

“After you, Mr. Rodriguez.”

“Why thank you, Mr. Engram, don’t mind if I do.” Manny palmed his nine and put it into his outer coat pocket as we crossed each other, masking the action in our movements.

The walk was at a brisk pace and we found ourselves standing outside of a church, an old church, that looked abandoned upon first glance except for the new lock on the gate into a little used parking space. Streetlights were out on this side of the street, making the place look more foreboding. As I looked up, a swarm of bats flew from what might have once been a bell tower. I had to give them points for setting the mood.

As soon as we crossed the threshold two odors were clear to me. One of an overwhelming perfumed incense, completely dissonant, unpleasant, designed to put you off your game, capable of distracting you from the second more subtle scent. The scent of a recently opened grave. Dank, smelling of earthworm dung and musty aging fabric, with the mingling of old man smell, of shaving creams used in a bygone era.

It was the smell of Vampire.

Manny stopped as soon as he got a whiff of the place. I put my hand on his back and tapped him to go on. He continued to follow our burly escorts, who had taken positions two in front and two in back.

We walked into the church and down the central isle. Manny stopped to cross himself as we passed the central dais, looking up at the dimly lit Jesus upon the Cross. We were taken behind the raised stage and choir area and into a very tight stairwell and for a moment, I thought we might be about to be trapped.

I squeezed my cane and felt it become hot in my hand as its magics surged to life. I could feel Manny ready to spring left and squeeze off as many rounds as his itchy trigger finger could in two seconds. I knew it was numbered between nine and twelve.

The doorway at the top of the stairs opened and a warm, soft light came out, easing our trepidation. I relaxed my hold on the banister and continued my climb. This area was better lit and filled with religious artifacts, paintings and assorted tchotchkes. Then I felt it. The power, the presence of a supernatural force ahead of me. I stumbled and Manny caught me.

“Restrain yourself, whatever you see in there.” I whispered as he caught me. He grunted his assent and helped me steady myself on my cane.

The guards opened the door and the two in front took station on the inside of the door, while the other two stayed outside. The office was deceptively spacious with a large oak desk directly across from the door. Every wall was a floor to ceiling bookshelf and gentle lighting covered the space completely except for a small corner of well crafted darkness. I could feel the eyes hiding in the darkness but choose to focus my attention on Father Nosceti.

He looked nothing like I remembered him.

David D’Amico was a mob boss who ran a variety of “businesses” in Florida about a decade ago. Some of his work crossed into my territory when he began trafficking in human beings for Second Worlder’s who used living human ingredients in their spell casting. Our interactions led to the destruction of a safe-house, a crazed sorcerer and the deaths of one hundred innocent men and women, whom D’Amico was instrumental in their passing.

I was told to bring him in alive.

I wanted to burn him alive, slowly in the hottest hellfire I could summon, but back then, I was a better soldier than I was today.

Back then, I followed orders.

His sentence was for selling at least three hundred people as laboratory animals for the study of black magic. He was allowed to turn evidence against his trafficking friends and he was “relocated” in a witness protection program. His face was Shaped, his aura altered and he was given the cover of an old, fat priest working for the benefit of the people in New York. His aura shifting was designed to be a painful and continual reminder of his new life and the price of his freedom.

I looked in on him from time to time, mostly to be sure he was still suffering. It’s a karmic thing.

Yes, he was relatively reformed in that he didn’t do human trafficking but leopards rarely changed their spots. He found ways to amuse himself selling the excess spiritual energy from his parishioners to a number of Second World parasites. The Agency overlooked much of this lesser criminal activity because the evidence he turned allowed them to shut down a number of large criminal enterprises and he acted as a resource upon occasions. Didn’t mean I had to like him or be nice to him.

“I’m on the clock. What couldn’t wait until after I was done? By the way, you look like hell.”

Nosceti’s voice was thin and papery, little more than a strong whisper. Nothing like his previous bombastic over the top behaviors. This wasn’t an act. I wanted to Look at him to see if I could figure out what was wrong with him, but I didn’t know what my spell might trigger or what his hidden guests might do if I cast any magic. So I just listened. “Hello Engram, watchdog of the Apocalypse, I wish I could say you were looking equally awful but that would be a lie.”

He had a spasm of moist and unpleasant coughing. His bodyguards moved as one. One went to his back and held him up, the other poured a glass of water and added a squirt of an unknown elixir to it. He drank the water, sat back and pulled himself together. Once his breathing settled down, he continued, “Immortality sits very well upon you, my boy. Very well, indeed. As to why I asked you here, I was one of the people who had received the Protocol Zero request and recommended you for the job.”

Now I knew who I had to thank for the pleasure, but he wasn’t finished.

“As to why I requested you…, I might understand why the Night Train is not amused with New York at the moment.”

“Wow, you actually went with the pregnant pause thing? Or are you catching your breath.” Manny hissed.

I was displeased that Manny had spoken at that moment but I absolutely related to the sentiment.

“Muzzle your dog, Engram, or I will shut his trap for you.” A voice crept across the walls and floors, sinister, oily and supremely confident of itself. A familiar voice, I never expected to hear again.

Neither did Manny. Before I could stop him, his nine appeared in his hand and he emptied his clip into the chair barely visible in the shadows.

The chalky face of Albrecht stepped out of the shadows. He had been struck in the right shoulder, twice. Only the tiniest evidence of blood appeared and he did not appear discomforted by their impacts. He held out his hand and turned it over.

The rest of the bullets tumbled out onto the floor.

As he leapt into the room, he growled, “My turn.”

Jump to Motus Vita, chapter 5

Motus Vita (3)

Posted by Ebonstorm on September 19, 2013

Posted in: Chapter, Clifford Engram, Motus Vita, Serial. Tagged: Albrecht, ebonstorm, emotional armor, ghouls, New York, rakshasa, Redcaps, subway, Thaddeus Howze, The Red Watch, vampires, Waldorf Astoria, WPLongform. Leave a comment

“Was it a big beast? With sharp cruel fangs?” –Gaston, Beauty and the Beast

I drove into New York and parked at the Waldorf Astoria.

I had a standing arrangement with the management. They watched my car, kept a room on standby for me and I got to hope I would actually sleep there.

It hadn’t happened yet.

The Agency paid for it whether I managed to stay or not. I had hoped this time in the City that Never Slept I might get to enjoy the five hundred thread count sheets reputed to be used there.

New York hadn’t changed much since my last trip. The lights were a bit brighter, the streets a bit cleaner, I could still feel the innate underlying hostility of the city, especially at night. Everyone moved with their mental and emotional armor at the ready. But even with that said, people laughed, and talked as if it were the most natural thing in the world to be on the streets at ten in the evening. Their energy was infectious and I found myself floating along the Undertide of the city.

It was quieter on Park Avenue than I remembered, taxis waited patiently at the lights without blowing their horns. I had heard there had been a kindness campaign some years ago and it appeared the lessons stuck. Even without the horns it was still loud, the streets crowded and filled with energy. I could see the living, the dead, the near-living and mostly-dead mingling, often knowingly, heading to Broadway, or Times Square or to 42nd Street.

New York was truly the ultimate melting pot. People from all over the world found their way to its confines, sharing the city, fighting over it, loving it, hating it, but never leaving it for long. The citizens of the Second World felt the same way, drawn by an unknown magic, they came here seeking their fortune no matter what shard realm they originally called home. New York was a cynosure, a realm unto itself, where no one magic held sway and thus everyone was equally capable of being all they could be.

Strangely enough, this made for a relatively quiet city since you never knew who anyone was or who they knew or what they could do. And that was okay with me; a kind of Wild West mentality, everyone was potentially armed and unfailingly polite. I put a call in for Manny as soon as I got into the city and expected him to meet me at the Waldorf.

He showed up as I was leaving my keys with the valet.

His private taxi pulled up as the young valet with an acne problem roared away, just a bit too fast in the black Corvette assigned to me by the Agency. Normally, if it had been my car, I might be upset but after my last few weeks, my attitude was just a bit more laissez-faire and able to appreciate his enjoyment of being behind the wheel of a classic.

As I dropped a fifty into the hands of the valet captain, I reminded him of our standard arrangement and encouraged him to have that young man drive the car to me if I called for it. He smiled and said it would be done.

“Cliff!” came the voice of my brother from another mother, Manny. He was tall and strong with well-kept dreads which fell over his left eye. His brown face only highlighted his bright smile and nearly perfect teeth. The eye was also covered by a simple and barely noticeable patch which vanished into the forest of locks that decorated his head. He wore a chauffeur’s outfit up to and including black gloves, a snug but fitting jacket and well cared for rubber soled shoes.

He was dressed for our kind of work.

He acted as my guide, ally and occasional lifesaver whenever I visited the Big Apple. I used to try and drive in New York but without a native’s sense of how to get around, I spent more time sitting in traffic than investigating anything.

“Manny, good to see you. Did you get my texts?”

Irrepressible, even in the face of imminent doom, he just laughed, “Yep, the usual end of life as we know it. We still need to get a bite to eat before we head downtown.”

“Not that place you took me last time?” Manny had peculiar tastes in restaurants including a variety of Second World dives.

“What’s wrong with the Palace?” He looked a bit hurt.

Nothing if you don’t mind Vampires staring at you while you eat. “You caused a scene, picked a fight and nearly got us killed by a group of hostile vampire thralls. Otherwise the food was great. Maybe we can find someplace where the diners aren’t hoping for fast food carved from the guest list.”

“You, sir, have no appreciation for good food. A good meal is worth fighting for.”

Manny opened the trunk and helped me move my bags. I was not surprised by what I saw there. His trunk was a arsenal of Second World death dealing. As usual, he came loaded for bear or anything else the Second World might offer. Manny and I had worked together for a decade or more, sometimes it was hard to keep track.

He put my bags in the trunk and gave me a hug before offering me my choice of armaments. I waved him away with my cane and his knowing glance let me know he understood we weren’t there yet. But the evening was still young.

Heading into traffic, he focused on the road while I looked at how much he had aged since I saw him last. Travel had me here two or three times in any given year, but it had been a while since I’d been back. I thought back to when I first met him all those years ago.

We met during an operation where he was one of a group of humans destined to become food for a group of rogue vampires.

He was probably fifteen at the time and had lost his entire family to these vamps. The Red Watch, the primary Master Vampires in the New World frowned on renegades and hired me to find and reveal their location to them for extermination. I was informed they were dangerous and planning on attempting a local coup, but because of an arrangement with other Second Worlders they could not move openly against them. So they hired me to find them and once found, a covert strike squad would be dispatched.

Their leader, Jericho Privitee, a former member of the Red Watch Council, with funding from the Old World Families had planned to blackmail the leaders of the Watch with a list of their indiscretions to their Vatican Masters. As I later learned, the local Red Watch had a goal of controlling all of the Second World groups under one banner, their banner. This would give them unprecedented power with so many diverse groups working together.

The Agency sent me not only to resolve the issue but to put a cap on the consolidation and prevent it from happening. Only the death of Privitee would send the right message.

No one counted on Privitee being as charismatic an individual as he was. He managed to get a large number of the unaffiliated vampires into his camp. In a city the size of New York it was hard to keep tabs on every single vampire, so his army was much larger than anyone expected. He also managed to acquire the support of several other Second Worlders including the fierce but diminutive Redcaps, flesh-rending ghouls who kept to the sewers and fed upon the hapless who stumbled upon their lairs, and rakshasas who disconnected from their own clans and were eager to work with anyone who promised them the opportunity to feast freely on souls in New York.

One of the disadvantages of working with such diverse groups was the inherent difficulty in keeping them under wraps. They left a trail that led me to their headquarters in an abandoned section of the subway using the sewer systems as a freeway for their operations.

I wasn’t sure if it was just plain luck that I found their pantry before I ran into too many of them. I released their victims and was trying to lead them back above ground before we were caught. But catching us, only ensured they were standing still when the Red Watch sprung their trap.

The ensuing battle was fierce but brief. Privitee died at the hands of the leader of the assault team, a young and ambitious vampire named Albrecht. Less than two hundred, he had waited patiently for an opportunity to rise through the ranks and Privitee’s death would give him the chance he had waited for.

I and the escapees were forced to participate in the battle and had stayed close to each other during the fight. I liberated weapons from the dead and passed them out and fought with the escapees trying to get above ground. Young Manny who was only too eager to take a shotgun loaded with vampire-killing loads waded hip deep into the conflict. He carved a swath through their lines so devastating even the Red Watch was stunned. Once the rebels had been put down, the Red Watch surrounded our group, melting out of shadows as we neared the final subway junction before reaching the streets.

Albrecht appeared uncomfortably close and shimmered, lit only by the pale lighting of the tunnels. His vampiric smile spoke of unfinished business.

“Agent Engram, we appreciate your help on this mission and the traitor and his scion have been put to death.” This sounded good so far. Then he went on. “Too many of these who remain could reveal our existence and numbers to the human authorities. We cannot allow them to live.” In the dark with nothing but his eyes and fangs glittering, his bloodlust was clear to me.

“They don’t know anything and you could glamour them so they would forget anything you didn’t want revealed. This isn’t my first rodeo. I know exactly what you’re capable of.”

“Glamours can be undone, magic can penetrate our obfuscations. There is only one way to truly be safe.” The remaining thirty humans captured from the lair of the rebels were surrounded by the Red Watch’s assault squad in their trademarked red leather outfits. Albrecht raised his hand and without any hesitation, the Red Watch fed upon those whom I had rescued and assured of a return to their lives.

Albrecht moved forward to kill young Manny. Manny’s response was to fire upon Albrecht but the empty click of the shotgun was the only reward for his bravery. I stood in front of Manny and waited for Albrecht to attack. My reputation preceded me as one of the Agency’s top operatives so he was unsure of what his play should be. “Step away from the boy and we can call an end to this unsightly event. Your Agency has been suitably paid and you compensated for your fine work in discovering the rebels. Why would you risk my wrath protecting that scrap of a human.”

“I could give a damn about your wrath.” I smiled as I heard Manny reloading the shotgun from the belt of shotgun shells he took from one of the rebels. Gotta admire his survival instincts. “I told the boy he would be safe and he will be. You will get out of my way and you will do it now. We are leaving here and you will never seek him out again. Am I clear?”

“You are but a human yourself. Do you think you could stand against the might of the Red Watch, the most powerful vampires in the world? So powerful we control the Vatican itself?” Albrecht’s voice had the sound of hysteria as if he were trying to psych himself up to attack an Agency operative. Not a standard procedure but if he won, he could tell them anything he wanted.

I’m done with this idiot. This was out of hand. “Have you ever heard of the Accursed, Albrecht?”

All of the vampires who had finished dining upon their victims had been slowly edging forward, encircling Manny and I. Manny stood ready to acquit himself if necessary.

It wouldn’t be.

At the mention of the Accursed, all the vampires stopped moving. Their faces covered in blood, teeth shining in the low light of the sewers. Still twitching corpses lay dying behind them.

“A myth, something to scare Humans and children of the Second Worlds. They aren’t real.” Albrecht’s confidence was shaken. But he seemed resolved to his mission.

I turned to look at Manny, “I want you to put that shotgun down. And don’t pick it up again. I want you to close your eyes, and don’t open them until I tell you to, no matter what you hear. Do you understand?” I kissed him on the forehead and he put the shotgun down. The vampires edged closer. “Stay down.”

“Anyone who doesn’t want to be dead should leave now.” Two of the vampires dropped their victims and sped away into the darkness without a sound.

I rolled up my right sleeve exposing the marks which held Fenrir bound to me. They were already glowing their trademark blue. The vampires didn’t run. “Now, Manny. It’ll be over in a moment. Keep your eyes closed.”

Albrecht drew his sword, a nice custom piece, balanced, with a short handle, a one-handed weapon. He charged me, blurring with vampiric speed. I raised my hand and put it in front of me as the runes which surrounded my flesh sprung to life. My shirt and jacket exploded from me and the runes, sigils and markings lit up across my arm, across my chest and back.

He pierced my outstretched hand, driving his blade all the way to the hilt. A short weapon, it stopped just shy of my throat. It wouldn’t have mattered. I was not alone.

“All that looks at thee is thine, Fenrir, Wolf of Legend. You may feast upon the souls of all who have died here, though a poor feast it will be, shriveled husks of men.” Albrecht tried to remove the blade but it held fast as I closed my hand about the handle. My strength magnified, Fenrir filled me with his boundless power, his ceaseless rage at being imprisoned in me and he sprung forth a dark wind, absorbing the souls of everyone in the room except Albrecht and Manny. The vampires rushed toward me in an effort to try and kill me before my power could claim them.

They never had a chance. Their damned souls served as beacons to the evil that was Fenrir. Several of them managed to lay claws or fangs upon me but in the seconds of touching me they fell away screaming as Fenrir consumed them. Painfully.

It was several minutes of terrified screaming before the room grew quiet again. Albrecht, Manny and I were the only living things left. My arm burning with blue-black light slowly dimmed as I drew the sword from my flesh. The injury closed behind the sword but the bites and claw marks from the other attacks didn’t heal.

I looked to Manny and saw blood leaking from one of his eyes. Nothing to be done for that now. I took my hand that was slowly cooling and pressed my fingertip into the leaking socket. Manny screamed and fell instantly to sleep.

Albrecht looked at me, trembling. “That is the nature of the Accursed. You live only because I would hate to explain to your very influential father who hired me, that you were too stupid not to accost one of the Accursed. You can tell him the rebels having fed were more dangerous and desperate than you knew. Your entire cabal fell to them and only with my help were you able to escape. Do you understand?”

Albrecht nodded, looking around at the smoking piles of his former friends and their tragic victims. I handed him back his sword and looked at Manny’s eye. He had peeked. The only reason Fenrir didn’t kill him was because I kissed him. That eye would never heal to its former ability but in its place I had left him something to remember this night. It was a hard lesson.

One he wouldn’t easily forget.

Albrecht slunk away vanishing in the style common to vampires and I carried Manny to the street, my arms and legs trembling from the exertion of forcing Fenrir back into his cage.

Fenrir, demon wolf, drinker of blood, killer of gods, bound within my black sigils howled, sated for a time.

I sat at the top of the subway stairs with the unconscious manchild and counted the stars till the trembling stopped.

Jump to Motus Vita, chapter 4

Motus Vita (2)

Posted by Ebonstorm on August 25, 2013

Posted in: Chapter, Clifford Engram, Motus Vita, Serial. Tagged: Clifford Engram, damballah, Dominique LeStrade, Louisiana, New York, The Night Train. Leave a comment

Have you ever worked on-call? No? Never let anyone convince you the money is worth it.

Because it isn’t.

The people who hired you and told you that you would be getting an obscene amount of money never mentioned how often they would call you at an inopportune time. Meaning every time they called you it would be inopportune. On a trip with the family on your first outing in months? They’d call. Eating your first home cooked meal in months with the love of your life? They’d call. Having sex with a woman you have just met and discovering just how much you miss sex? They’d call.

It had been a long time since I had sex. And even longer since I had enjoyed it. My particular baggage didn’t let too many people get close to me.

A man had to get his priorities in order. World-shaking sex. Saving the World. In that order. Besides, I knew my boss, she’d call back.

Dominique didn’t wake up as I slapped around my nightstand until my black phone found its way into my hand. “What. Do. You. Want?” I hissed into the phone, while I got up and went into the bathroom. I already knew what she wanted. What I wanted was for her to hear my displeasure and decide to suspend me for another six weeks. No such luck. She overlooked my tone and my threatening voice and proceeded to have the conversation I had been dreading during my recovery.

“I said I wouldn’t call you unless Hell froze over. The Night Train is scheduled to arrive in New York.”

And this was my business why?

“So? To quote Old Ben Kenobi, ‘You’ll never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.’ If it’s going to New York, it needs to. That is a kettle of fish I want nothing to do with.”

She proceeded to explain in her patient voice. That’s never good. “You understand, the Night Train sends an email to a designated city official indicating where it will come into the city, how many disembarking and how many it is willing to take on, yes?”

She knew I understood this, for a time in my life, I rode the Night Train until I got my act together after my aunt died. “Yes. I am familiar with the protocols.” I looked at a picture of an angel and some armored warrior hanging up in the bathroom. One of the children of Dominique’s staff had painted it and she took a fancy to it. I used it to distract myself from the impending bad news.

Her patient voice was starting to make me afraid. Where was the venom, the loathing I knew so well? “What do you know about Protocol Zero?”

Shit. I expected bad news. But not this bad. I was hoping for a cabal of bloodthirsty vampyres feeding on a small town or a collection of demons seeking converts among the Amish. This wasn’t even on my list of ‘here’s-an-easy-mission-while-you-finish-recovering’ list of things to do. “Only that the last time it was enacted, an entire town disappeared, lock, stock and barrel. A population of fifty thousand souls was never seen again.” I could feel my curse marks tingling with anticipation; it was my built-in danger sense.

“The email sent by the Night Train to the governor of New York, said. ‘Protocol Zero’. There were no personnel numbers, no requests for food, no requests for resources. The governor called the Agency and has considered an evacuation of New York. I advised him against it. I offered him you, instead. Now say goodbye to your girlfriend and haul your ass to the Big Apple while its still on the map.”

“How long do I have?” I was much less sleepy now.

“It’s supposed to arrive tomorrow at midnight. I want you there to meet it. Find out what it wants, talk to the crew and stop Protocol Zero. Don’t call me back until you have good news. Your equipment will arrive in two hours. Good luck, Engram.”

“Thanks, boss.” The click from the other end had the proper doom-laden click I had come to expect from these four A.M. calls. I squeezed in a shower while I waited for my kit to arrive.

When I got out of the shower, Dominique was standing there with a cup of her excellent coffee. I tried not to think about its origins. She tried to explain to me it was harvested from the droppings of the civet cat in countries where they raised coffee beans. The stomach acid of the civet removed the acidity from the beans in a way that the normal process could not match. Truth be told, I never had a better cup of coffee. Ever. But I asked her to never tell me the origin of her coffee ever again. Whenever she handed me a cup, she just gave me that smile that reminded me I was about to have a cup of coffee from the ass of a civet cat.

I couldn’t believe I had been here for six weeks and didn’t want to leave. Dominique traced the curse mark tattoos from my right shoulder down my back and smacked my ass as it crosses over to my left leg. “Your master called. I thought I would be ready for this. I am not good with goodbyes.”

I had to be honest, I didn’t have a lot of practice with them either. “My work doesn’t allow me to make many friends and if I do, they have a nasty habit of dying prematurely. I don’t do goodbyes well either. Why don’t we just call this an extended time out and I will be back before you know it.”

“No, cher, you won’t be back right away. It is not your fate. Damballah has told me as much.” She got into the shower while I sorted through the casual clothing I had gotten used to wearing while I was here. I would get dressed officially after breakfast.

“Does Damballah have a nightclub act? Read the future, count beans in jars, take requests from the audience?” I teased gently.

There was no response from the shower for a few seconds and I thought maybe I had made a joke in poor taste. But she hadn’t been defensive before now. I decided to take a peek inside the curtain to see if she was alright. Her nakedness always took my breath away. She had her back to me with the water running down from her hair. She stood there still as a stone. I reached in and turned her toward me. Her eyes were lit with an inner fire, the fire of possession by a loa.

“Does Damballah perform party tricks? Would it please you to know I can? Let me show you, Cursed One. You will leave my agent on this plane and return to the dying city of wealth. I foresee your meeting with a priest of the White Christ, who will offer you what you desire and take from you a promise you cannot hope to fulfill. I see you taking a journey which will end in death and suffering but for you, you will live with the consequences of your failure. Do you like my party tricks, Ingram, Eater of Dead Gods? Leave my servant in peace for you have caused enough vexation in her life. Tell her naught of what we have spoken. It is bad enough she has chosen the company of one such as you. Leave and never come to this place or risk my wrath.”

My cursed mark flared up from the tip of my right hand to the heel of my left foot, electrified with the rage of the loa who wished to impress upon me the seriousness of his threat. Its dark pathways were lit with the spiritual power of this ancient deity who was old before Men walked the Earth. I fell backward out of the shower to the warm tile wracked with agony before the Ingram rose to beat back the anger of Damballah. My marks returned to their dark, light-absorbing state and the presence of Damballah left the room.

Dominique returned to showering as if nothing happened. “Cher, would you pass me a towel?” Her voice had lost the ethereal otherworldly overtones it had a moment ago. She had no memory of the visit.

I reached over to her over-fluffy towels and grabbed hers as she pulled back the curtain and I drank in her exquisite loveliness. I dried her off, playfully enjoying her responses. I walked her to the bed and rubbed her favorite oils onto her, savoring the moment. She dressed in something light and appropriate to late summer, a counter to my dark preferences and I kept the conversation equally buoyant until the doorbell rang and my kit arrived.

A black corvette drove out of the back of a large truck and within a few minutes, the technicians took my thumbprint and disappeared as quickly as they appeared. I found my clothing, my gear and anything else the Agency thought I might need in the trunk. I took the garment bag from the trunk as the tech confirmed my thumbprint. “Godspeed, sir. I have family in New York.”

“I’ll do my best, son.” I don’t bother to ask how he knew, the fact that he did showed me just how important this was to everyone. Nothing moves faster than the rumor mill.

I went back into the house, keys in hand and proceeded to get dressed. My custom-fitted suit and long coat, embroidered with hidden sigils, only awaited my touch to activate their defensive energies. I sat quietly for an hour, re-establishing my defensive posture, charging my cane, checking my long knife, its edge, sharp enough to cleave a man from his soul.

Dominique avoided me as I put back on my Agency face, puttering around in the kitchen.

When I was done, I came to her, my darkness restored, my armor renewed, every bit the terrifying thing I was supposed to be when confronting city-destroying evil.

She kissed me fully on the lips, cracking my armor, for just a moment. She walked me to the door and taking my hand, she passed her beaded bracelet given to her by her father, to me. I knew better than to tell her no, unless I wanted one of those beatings she gave me while I recovered and was getting my edge back.

Stopping at the door, she held out a thermos. “Filled with enough of your favorite coffee to get you to New York with time to spare.” The twinkle in her eye brooked no refusal. Hell, civet cats or not, it was still the best coffee I ever had. I laughed all the way to the expressway until I opened it up heading north. Damballah be damned. I’m coming back.

I never responded well to threats.

Jump to Motus Vita, chapter 3

Motus Vita (1)

Posted by Ebonstorm on August 21, 2013

Posted in: Clifford Engram, Fantasy, Motus Vita, Serial. Tagged: Chaos, ebonstorm, investigation, magic, Order, primal forces, Thaddeus Howze, The Night Train. 2 Comments

A Clifford Engram tale

“We are the dead. Our only true life is in the future. We shall take part in it as handfuls of dust and splinters of bone. But how far away that future may be, there is no knowing.”
— O’Brien, 1984, George Orwell

If you are fortunate, you have never seen it.

No one in polite government acknowledges its existence. It arrives at night, cloaked in its own fog. Thick, sound absorbing, it rolls in a hour before the train arrives.

No health agency officiates its movements, no news agency writes on it. No reporters acknowledge they have been aboard it. Healthcare workers deny working on it, chefs deny cooking there, social workers deny helping its passengers adjust to new lives.

People know about it only in rumor. The staff is faceless; fearless; selfless.

It moves from city to city, never officially scheduled but strangely welcome. Every major metropolis expects it, sooner or later, and though there is never an official word, it arrives in the middle of the night, leaving some, but taking many.

People who have used it, never speak on it. Never write books about it. What is known even by the people who service it, is told in hushed whispers.

What we do know is this:

It is always full, never overly so, but the people are generous and sharing.

No one eats well, but no one goes hungry either.

It stops for only four hours.

Food, supplies, stores are made available. Food kitchens, churches, and yes even city officials see that it has whatever it needs as long as it is gone in four hours.

Everyone is patient. They wait for their turn. People get off first. They have been given a map, lists of resources, and a tiny stipend for work done on their passage. These first unload the Dead. Those who were too sick, too far gone, too old to survive the journey.

For some, they got on this train knowing they would not walk away from it.

Unspeaking city workers take away the dead, many unnamed to be cremated as per the arrangement with the Night Train’s operators.

The Staying finish moving the Dead and with a quick prayer, vanish into the night, knowing what they have will probably not be enough. But they hope a new place, new faces will bring opportunity the last places they were, did not.

As they pass the New Passengers who wait patiently, some smile, others pass bags to them, filled with things they might need. Blessings are exchanged and the night swallows them up.

Strangely enough, most never return to the Night Train.

Food is next. It is already sorted, boxed, and made ready for easy access. Along with food, recyclable materials are moved off the train and a waste management vehicle handles the human effluvia.

This is a smooth operation, practiced. Everyone knows their job and how to do it.

The only words written on the outside of the train is the Latin phrase, “Motus Vita.” Mobility is life. Our ancient ancestors knew this. They moved from place to place, learning the lay of the land and finding opportunity or moving on.

The Night Train crew recognizes this, so they sacrifice, never sitting still; always moving in order to give hope to the hopeless, mobility to the trapped, dreams to the impoverished, respite to the weary, food to the bellies of those unable to care for themselves.

Lastly, the New Passengers board. Many are tired, carrying only their meager possessions, they are ushered onboard by those who will be leaving on the next stop. They are cared for, cleaned up, fitted with new clothing, their hair combed, their health checked, their teeth cared for.

They are fed, assessed and by the next stop, they will have had more care than most will have seen in a decade. Social workers who reveal no secrets, help them to decide what can be done for them and calls are made along the route.

The Night Train has only one agenda, to help people keep moving on with their lives. As they pull away from the station, city officials grimace knowing they are paying for a service they need but are ashamed to have to take advantage of.

The existence of this Black train is a blessing to those served and a reminder of the failure of those in charge. They would love to stop providing service. But then they would have to explain so many other things. They go back to their offices and work a little bit harder.

If you are unfortunate enough to ride this train, you may experience shame for having to be there. Don’t. This is not the end of the line. For some, this is a chance at a new life. Accept the help.

If you do it right, you will only need it once.

The Night Train pulls away from its latest station and blows its horn, a sad, sonorous sound. People in the distance, pretending they don’t know that sound, lying nestled in their homes shudder gratefully.

Others who have just left it, smile, grateful for the chance to start again.

Of the Night Train’s crew, no one knows what they think. They turn their collars up against the wind.

Jump to Motus Vita, chapter 2