When my alarm went off, I jumped out of bed, but then promptly fell down. It was nearly ten in the morning and I knew that Rose had wanted to get an early start, but I was just so tired. In the shower, it came to me that Remy and Candy were probably still asleep too, and that I could take my time. I reached for my shampoo and was struck by a strange feeling; the color of the bottle, a pastel blue, was suddenly very familiar. The flash and feel of a dream sparked for an instant, then was gone. My mind was trying to find something, a memory, something important. What had I dreamed?
Rose and Remy were sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee when I came down, and Ruby was washing dishes. “Want some eggs, Miz Jean? I gots some on the stove still, and there’s fresh coffee in the pot and or’nge juice in the ‘fridge.”
“No, thanks anyway, I’m not that hungry.” I got out a glass and poured some juice, then sat down and joined the early risers.
Remy looked no worse for the wear; his eyes were a bit blood-shot and there was the trace of a fading bruise on the bridge of his nose, but all in all he come across as someone who’d been out partying the night before.
“How are you feeling?”
He took another sip of coffee. “A hell of a lot better than last night.”
“How’s Candy?”
Silence. Rose finally answered, “She’s fine, but will need a while to rest and recover. Remember, she sustained quite a blow to the head.”
“I’d better go take her some juice,” Remy said flatly, and slowly stood and went upstairs, absolutely neglecting to get any juice whatsoever.
“I-is he angry at me?”
“No, dear, his mood has nothing to do with you. Last night, after you went to bed, I heard Candy yelling at him for not doing anything to help her or save her. She called him a boy and said that if he needed a werewolf to get him out of trouble on a daily basis, he wasn’t man enough for her. Of course her vocabulary was much more colorful, I’m only paraphrasing.”
“That bitch! If I hadn’t have gotten her out of there…”
Rose shook her head, putting down her mug. “Don’t worry too much about Candy. She has an enormous ego and can be a pain, but you shouldn’t let it get to you. To tell the truth, I used magic to heal her concussion, so now the only thing really hurt is her pride. She’ll probably stay in her room ‘recovering’ for a few days, you mark my words.”
“Candy doesn’t know it, but Remy did save her. He made two zombies just burst into flames, and I know you hate over-the-top displays like that, but I just wouldn’t have been able to get to them in time. He already acts like a little kid when she’s around, and I suppose now he’s going to try and win back her favor.”
“You really care about Remy, don’t you?” Rose asked.
I shrugged, kind of uncomfortable. “He’s a good friend of mine, more like a pack-mate, or I guess the closest I’ll get to having a pack-mate, that is.”
“Then you haven’t been in contact with the caern since Rick’s death?”
“No. I don’t want anything to do with them,” and I told Rose about Lord Pytor, the way he treated me, and what happened at the caern the night of my Rite of Passage.
“There are other Garou all over the world, and no doubt you’d be welcome among them, but you’re free to stay here and work for me as long as you want.”
“Thank you. I’m not sure yet what I’ll be doing, but I’ll certainly keep that in mind,” I replied.
Remy returned to his seat and grimaced at his coffee. “Damn, it’s probably ice-cold now,” he muttered.
Rose reached over and cupped the mug in her hands. “Oh my, what a coincidence, your coffee has become hot again.”
He grinned slightly. “Thanks, Rose. So, where do we go from here?”
“That’s precisely what we need to discuss. I trust that last night’s ‘expedition’ didn’t reveal much?”
“Well, we know those zombies didn’t come from Lafayette. The section we were in hasn’t been used in over ninety years, and the bodies there would have been bones, or at least well past the level of decomposition the walking dead presented.”
“Unfortunately, we are dealing with the supernatural, and we can assume nothing. The animated dead had been effected to rise, the ones that attacked Jean and Rick were, I assume, magically summoned from the swamp,” Rose looked to me, “is that right?”
“Yes. I’m not sure if it was mage magic or Garou spirit magic, but I’m very sure a normal person couldn’t do that.”
“Right. They may well have come from the cemetery, and we can’t ignore that.”
I was about to reply, when I noticed Ruby standing by the table, waiting patiently to speak. Rose looked up and smiled, “Yes, Ruby?”
“Don’t mean to be breakin’ in, Miz Rose, but Miz Candy says to tell Mr. Remy he didn’t bring her no juice, and lordy, I hope she don’t kiss her mother wit’ dat mouth.”
Remy didn’t say anything, he just kept staring at his mug, shaking. Abruptly, it shattered as he leapt up. “Why can’t I do anything right for her?!?” he roared, eyes anguished. He grabbed my glass of juice and stormed upstairs before Rose could do anything.
There was that feeling again; the sinking déjà vu of remembering something that you didn’t see the first time. Remy’s words seemed to echo, as if I’ve heard him say the same thing before, but not here. Impossible. I’d only known him for two months. Still, I’d become comfortable around him and he was now a part of my life in New Orleans. I even missed him when he’d been gone for what seemed like days with Candy. That warm and pure gleam in his eyes, and the smile, as if he were on the verge of saying something funny. Even the way he carried himself, standing rod-straight, and the way he flipped his jet-black hair was comforting.
“Jean?”
“Oh, sorry. I…ah, zoned out there for a second.”
As she picked up pieces of the mug, Rose tossed me a wink and conspiratorial grin. “Worried about Remy?”
“No!” Unthinkable, it wasn’t like that…was it? “I was just thinking about a dream I had last night, that’s all. Or, at least, I think it was a dream, I’m not sure.”
“Tell me about it, I’ve been told that I’m quite the interpreter of dreams.”
“That’s just it, I don’t remember the dream, in fact, I would have thought that I didn’t even dream anything. I just got this strange feeling and was trying to remember,” I replied.
“No dream is ever forgotten, your subconscious remembers it even if you don’t. If you’re that curious, I can help you ‘see’ into your mind. Magic would be involved.”
“Would it hurt?”
“Not at all, it would be similar to being in a hypnotic trance, I am a Ph.D., remember?”
“Ok, I guess.” At that moment, I caught a glimpse of a piece of the broken mug; part of the handle was still attached to a large, flat bit which was lying sideways. The shape, I knew it, I’d seen it before, all of it. A sudden and irrational fear pumped through me and I backed up violently from the table.
“Hmm, I’m guessing we should do this right away.”
Ruby had arrived with a paper bag for the shards of mug and a towel to clean up the spilled coffee, so Rose and I went into the library. Actually, it wasn’t so much the idea of magic that I was nervous about, it was that Rose seemed to be treating me in an almost friendly manner. Since I came to New Orleans, she’d come across as a stern teacher, but now some of the affability she’d shown when I first met her was beginning to return.
Maybe I’d been searching too hard for acceptance recently. After all, Lord Pytor wasn’t exactly Mr. Supportive with me, but I’d still tried to meet his expectations. It all came with losing my parents, but I wasn’t going to let that make me into some kind of therapy case. It was time to start depending on myself.
“I want you to think about the last thing you remember before falling asleep last night,” Rose said as I sat down in one of the wing chairs.
“Should I close my eyes and think about flowers?”
“Only if you’re a hippe. I want you to say, in as best detail as you can manage, what you see. This will help you understand the dream environment you’re in.”
“Ok. Should I start now?”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled. “I was thinking about that beautiful fountain in the market. Then, I started thinking about that commercial where all different kinds of people are throwing pennies into a fountain and making different wishes. That got me thinking about that old song, ‘Three Coins In The Fountain’, and I was remembering a poem I wrote when I younger about a woman wishing the man who was cheating on her would love her again.”
“Then, sleep.”
I felt myself getting dizzy as Rose softly spoke those words. “I was peeking through a door, white door with a thick coat of paint. I wasn’t supposed to be looking in there, I kept thinking that someone would come and yell at me because I had work that I was supposed to do.”
“What were you supposed to be doing?”
“Polishing the silver, the big set with the sailing ships on it. I was nervous because I’d accidentally bent one of the prongs on the desert serving-fork, so I hid it under a loose board in the floor, and I was afraid that if I polished the silver, they’d find out.”
“Who is ‘they’?”
“Old Ben and the others. He always yelled at me, but he was upstairs because she wanted to talk to the gentleman caller alone. She told all of us to go upstairs until we were called for, but I wanted to see who was coming. Old Ben said that it was her lover.”
“Who is ‘she’?”
“The mistress. I didn’t see her that much, but she was very pretty. I could see through the door that she was wearing a lovely blue dress. It looked like it was made from the same blue as the sky. They were having tea in the receiving room and I couldn’t hear them very well, but they were having a big fight. He was begging her to help him, but the mistress said that if it was such a problem, he could handle it himself. She said she wasn’t afraid of the Nephandi.
“I opened the door a bit more, and he was down on one knee, and he asked her to marry him. The mistress laughed and called him a fool. He asked again and was saying all these things about how much he loved her, but she told him to leave and that she never wanted to see him again. All the problems had been because of him, and it was up to him to clean them up.”
“What problems?”
“She didn’t say. All the mistress said was that she and hers weren’t going to die of the plagues like commoners. He shouted at her in French, and then I really didn’t know what they were saying because I didn’t know the language of the Creoles. The gentleman was suddenly walking over to the door, and I was just standing there when he came into the room.”
“What did the room look like?”
“Small, it was the room that connected the receiving room to the hall to the kitchen, and the door swung back and forth, it didn’t have a latch. There was only one table against the wall where the silverware was put when it was being polished. Under the table was the loose board.”
“What did the man look like?”
“I couldn’t see him because he was taller than me. He was dressed all in black and looked really proper. He yelled something in French, then he said, ‘Why can’t I do anything right for her?!?’ and smashed the tea cup that was in his hand. He was gone when I looked up again, but my face hurt, and after they found me, Old Ben told me that a piece of the cup had flown up and cut my cheek.”
“What else happened?”
I started to fall forward out of the chair, but caught myself. The stupor wore off, and I ‘came back to myself’ back in the library. Rose was sitting opposite me on the ottoman.
“I think that’s when I woke up.”
“Do you remember what you said during the last five minutes? Do you remember coming into the library?”
“Yes and yes. I’m fine Rose, honest. Wow, even in my dreams I’ve got chores.”
She grinned, but it was strained. Something was wrong. “It sounds to me like a memory from one of your past lives.”
“No way, I don’t believe in that kind of thing.”
“Your race does.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean that I have to. What’s a ‘Nephandi’?” I asked, trying to change subjects.
“You mean you don’t know?”
“Of course I don’t know, why would I have asked if I did? I was thinking that maybe it was a word that my mind made up, but you seem to know what I’m talking about, even if I don’t.”
Rose narrowed her eyes slightly. “There’s no need to get snippy, young lady. A Nephandi is a mage that has fallen to their pride and chosen to serve infernal masters. In a way, they’re comparable to Black Spiral Dancers.”
“Oh.”
“It sounds to me like that past life was lived here in the South, a servant or slave perhaps. Were you white or black?”
“For the last time, I’ve only lived once, that is, I’m still living my life. I’m not sure what happens when someone dies, but I just don’t want to think about it right now, ok? And I was white, because I remember looking at the blood on my hand after I wiped it off my cheek,” I replied.
“Fine, but if this is going to be your reaction every time you encounter something you don’t understand, you’re not going to get very far as a Garou.”
I was about to respond, but noticed Ruby standing in the doorway of the library. “Beggin’ yo pardon, Miz Rose, I couldn’t help but be hearin’ Miz Jean, an’ I know where she’s talkin’ ‘bout.”
“You know where that house is?” Now this was getting out of hand, but for some reason, I felt that I had to see that room again.
“Yes’um. You’re standin’ in it, honey.”
A sinking feeling washed over me, and I looked to Rose, who was never one to betray shock. “Well then, where in the house is that room? I assume it’s no longer separate since I’ve never seen it, but then, this building has been remodeled and acquired several additions.”
“I t’ink Miz Jean was talkin’ ‘bout the old servant hall b’hind the main west wall. Way back in the early days, it went from the kitchen to a little servin’ room right up next to the study. Lordy, dat was a long time ago, but when I was just a young’un, I remember it bein’ torn down. The door of the servin’ room was filled in to make one of the walls o’ the pantry.”
Rose nodded, “Good, let’s go see.” And with that, she took off.
At that point in time, the only parts of the Archer estate I’d been in was the front hall, the front room and dining room which were to the right and left of the front hall, the kitchen which was straight back after a long hallway, the library, which could be reached through the front room, my room upstairs, and Rose’s lab. I knew, of course, that the house was huge, and the older parts dated back to before the Civil War, in fact, the first building to stand on the grounds was the old plantation house, built in 1762. One learned a lot if one listened to Remy.
I followed Rose back through the kitchen and into the large pantry, which was actually two rooms separated into a front and back by a wall that looked like the door had been removed and the doorway widened. She and Ruby went in, but I hung back. There was something vaguely foreboding about all of this, and I didn’t want to go into the back pantry. After a second, I got disgusted with myself. It was nonsense, I told myself, I was letting my imagination scare me. The dream had just been a dream, nothing else. What was that Sigmund Freud once said, “Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.” I walked in.
The walls were white, actually, I’d have bet they were whitewashed, they looked that old. A naked bulb lit the room, probably wired about seventy to eighty years ago, but apart from the boxes on one side of the room, it was empty. Ruby was pushing a box further towards the other side, and Rose was kneeling by the far wall, inspecting the floor.
“Looking for the loose board? I don’t think you’ll find it. It’s probably just an amazing coincidence that the room from my dream was similar to one in your house. I mean, weren’t most Southern mansions built in a like pattern?”
“Jean, for once please do stop being such a skeptic. Ah, knew it!”
Rose had managed to pry up one end of a floor board, but the other end of the plank was firmly set in with the rest. In swift one motion, she pulled back hard and the piece broke off, leaving a small dark hole, edged with ragged splinters. My eyes were glued to the little chasm, and I felt deadly afraid that something horrible or wyrm-tainted would crawl out.
Ruby handed Rose a key-chain flashlight, and she shone it down into the hole. All of me was shaking, and I almost stopped Rose’s hand, but willed myself to stay still. It was like I was afraid for her to know what was under the floor, and I wanted to run out of the room and hide upstairs.
“Let’s see…” She stuck her hand in the hole and pulled out something black and twisted.
“Here ya’are, Miz Rose,” and Ruby put a bowel of water down on the floor, at least, I thought it was water; it smelled strongly of chemicals.
So full of anxiety I that I thought I’d pass out, I could only watch as Rose gingerly dropped the thing into the bowel. The water clouded as the black gunk washed off, and when she picked the thing up again, I could clearly see that it was a large silver fork with one of the prongs bent sideways. A schooner-type sailing ship was etched on the flat part, and a script ‘A’ inscribed on the handle.
“Well, what do we have here?” Rose’s face lit up in a triumphant smile, but the light dimmed and the gesture turned wicked. The woman before me threw the fork aside and raised her riding crop. Hot, too hard to breathe.
“No! Don’t! Please, don’t hit me!” A rushing of wind and mind picked me up and set me down cowering back in the pantry. “Please, Mistress Annabelle…” My plea trailed off to a whisper.
“Just calm down, Miz Jean.” Ruby had her hands on my shoulders, holding me still. Rose still had the fork in her hand and was staring at me, alarmed.
“I’m beginning to think that there’s more to this than I first suspected. Jean, can you hear me?”
I nodded, but for some reason couldn’t meet her eyes. Rose saw this. She approached me slowly and turned my face towards hers. The same fear rocketed through me. Shifting to lupus form, I tossed my head, rolled out of Ruby’s embrace, and did what Rick had called ‘throating’; rolling over on my back to incur the other Garou’s mercy and assure their dominance, a default ‘you win, don’t hurt me’. No wolf harms a cub that throats.
This time, it only took me a second to calm down, and I shifted back to homid, now clad only in my dedicated clothes. “Rose, what did you do to me? Did your magic mess up or something?”
“First of all, I never ‘mess up’. I’ve already told you what’s going on. Memories from one of your past lives are resurfacing in your mind, and even though you refuse to accept it, it’s obvious that life was lived in this house.”
“Yes indeed, Miz Jean. D’you know what all you said? You were tellin’ Miz Annabelle to leave you ‘lone. Miz Annabelle Archer was one of the daughters of Mr. Pierre Archer, one of Miz Rose’s relations, but way back before Miz Rose’s great-grandma was born. Y’all need to go an’ talk wit’ Marguerite, she remembers.”
“Yes, I think that would be a good idea, but I would have thought that Marguerite died years ago,” Rose replied, standing up and putting the fork in her pocket.
Ruby just shook her head and smiled. “Naw, she livin’ still, but then, she’ll have’ta tell y’all ‘bout why.”
The light bulb above us suddenly flashed and shorted, bringing the room to tar-thick darkness. A terrifying horror crept over me, but was quelled when Ruby switched on a flashlight.
“Dat’s funny, I just done put a new bulb in dere two day’s ago. Ah well, I’d best go an’ fetch a ‘nother one.”
“Good, thank you, Ruby. Jean, please go find Remy while I get a few things together. We’re going visiting.”
“Um, sure.”
“And please, try to keep an open mind. You’re a werewolf, after all.”
After I managed to tear Remy away from the ‘suffering’ Candy, we walked across what used to be the fields of cotton at the rear of the estate grounds. Now, they were filled by grass, though well-maintained. Remy told me that the crop fields used to be double their current size, but some of the land was given to sharecroppers after the Civil War, then eventually auctioned off in the late 1930’s. Also, the grass had only begun to grow in the last fifty years, as the cotton had so severely depleted the nutrients in the soil.
Rose had gone ahead of us, and had a good five minute head start. She’d told us that we were headed towards what she called the ‘old quarters’ and that Remy would know where to go. Fine with me, I was in no hurry, and it gave me time to bring him up to speed on what was going on. Actually, he didn’t say much, just shrugged and kept walking.
“Look, what’s the matter with you? You’ve said barely five words today, and if you’ve got a problem with me, I have a right to know.”
Remy sighed and ran his fingers through his gorgeous hair. “It has nothing at all to do with you, and I apologize that I behaved the way I did in front of you. That display at breakfast was inexcusable.”
“No, it’s fine, if it’s about Candy, I can understand you getting upset.”
“I’m not trying to be…I don’t know, it’s just, I really don’t want to talk about it right now, Ok?”
“That’s fine.”
“So, you’ve discovered one of your past lives, huh?” he asked.
“No, that’s what Rose said, not what I think happened.”
“And what do you think happened?”
I slowed down to wisk up a weed stalk to play with. “I think that girl left behind some kind of psychic energy or resonance that I picked up on, and caused me to have the dream.”
“I see, so you believe in psychic energy, but not in reincarnation? Kiddo, you’re weird.”
“This coming from a guy who likes to hang out in graveyards.”
Remy snatched my weed and feinted left, then ran ahead. He looked back and stuck out his tongue, daring me to chase him. I scanned the field, but no one else was around. Perfect. I bent over and launched forward, changing to lupus form as my paws hit the ground. In an instant I’d caught up with him and knocked him down. Remy’s scent was strong, intermingled with that of the plants and dirt, and a hint of the house and Candy clung to his clothes. Still, there was something else, and I nosed for it.
“Hey,” he said, laughing, “get off me!”
Jumping back, I returned to homid, lunged in quick, and grabbed the candy bar from his pocket. “Come on, don’t you want your chocolate back?” I baited.
“That’s my lunch!” Remy rolled over and stood. He smiled, then his eyes squinted up mischievously and he clapped his hands and quickly stepped backwards, disappearing.
“Huh?” Was all I had time for before he snagged his candy back from behind me.
“No fair, you used magic!” I whined.
“No fair, you took it in the first place.” He smirked, then slowed down a step so I could catch up. “Come on, I’ll give you half when we get there. I’m guessing Rose doesn’t want us fooling around and wasting time.”
“You started it,” I said beneath my breath, and grinning to beat the band, flicked him in the back of the neck and ran ahead.
It took a few minutes to notice, but the fields had yielded to a sparse forest, and path or sorts formed itself. We finally reached an old shack in a clearing. It looked too much like the swamp-shacks for my comfort, but something seemed different. The sun shone down through the leaves, casting the whole place in a green haze, and the forest felt wholesome, not tainted. Also, the shack was in great shape, and didn’t appear to be any more than fifty years old, but one could never be sure. Rose was leaning against a tree and waiting for us.
“You both took your sweet time. Before we go in, I want to remind you of a few things. First, this woman, Marguerite, is very old. Just how old, I’m not sure, but I do know that she was born a slave.”
“But that’s impossible!” Assuming that she was born at the latest possible point before the Civil War ended, she would be at least 130, and the oldest living person had just died a few months before at age 122.
“All things are possible, which brings me to my second point. No matter what she says, please show her the utmost respect. That goes for you, Remy, and doubly for you, Jean. We will have no further ‘but wait’s, ‘I don’t believe’s, or ‘that’s impossible’s. Clear?”
“Crystal,” we both answered at once.
Rose stepped up onto the porch, opened the thin door, and went in; Remy and I followed. Inside the shack was nearly pitch dark, as curtains had been long ago placed over the window in the front room. It smelled like linen and earth, but the air was heavy with dust and the intense feeling of age. I could see the outlines of furniture and the like, but that was about it, besides the slight glow from the back room. If I was an old woman, this is definitely where I’d want to live, well, if it had a phone, plumbing, electricity, and an Internet connection, that is.
“Who dere?” The voice was deep yet frail, sounding exactly how I’d have thought the old woman would speak.
“It’s Rose Archer and two of my students. We’ve come to visit.”
“Little Rosie?”
“Yes.”
“Come on back den, dear.”
The front room was seperated from the back only by a half-wall and door, which was open. The glow I saw was from a kerosene lamp on the night table beside the bed, in which a small, incredibly wrinkled black woman was lying, propped up by pillows. The room and the walls were barren save for four chairs lined up against the far wall. Rose motioned that we pull them over and sit. The light was dim and soft, making it hard to see, and making everything seem like a sweet dream.
“How are you feeling, Marguerite?” Rose asked, sitting down.
“I’s fine. Gittin’ a bit hard to see, but den, my eyes never was de best. Miss Rosie, you all grown now, why last time I seen you, you was only a teeny little thing. How’re y’all?”
“Doing well, thank you. Actually, Ruby suggested that we come speak with you.”
Marguerite nodded and smiled, toothless. “Yes’um, she was sayin’ th’other day dere was bad mojo ‘round. Not just dat, but zombies too!”
Remy sat up straight. “Do you know who’s behind the zombies?!?” Rose glared and kicked him covertly.
“Excite’ble little Euthanatos, no, I don’t know who be messin’ ‘bout where dey shouldn’t.”
For a moment, Rose seemed taken aback. “You know about the Traditions? I figured you were an honored acolyte, but…?”
“What did dat stuffy Hermetic call me? Marguerite Jones, bani Dreamspeaker. Yes dear, I be a mage, but dat was a long, long time ago, and dis be my Paradigm now. No one notices a Awakened slave, now do dey? An’ I also know dis girl here a wolf, know it by de smell.”
“Yes, that’s right,” I said, kind of amazed. That, and I’d never see anyone get the jump on Rose like that before.
“We’ve come here,” Remy broke in, “because we have some questions about the old configuration of the house and things that happened back then.”
With occasional corrections by me, Rose told Marguerite everything, from my dream to finding the fork in the pantry. Every so often, the old woman would mutter something and nod, her head and thin hair silhouetted by the white pillows on which she leaned.
“I’s guessin’ you want to know ‘bout Mistress Annabelle? Huh, well, I was a girl in dem years, probab’ly not more’n birthing age, an’ I worked in de kitchen makin’ food and cleanin’. Old Ben, he was de most loved slave out o’ us all, ‘cause he ran de house jus’ like the fields was run, tight. Later Old Ben and some of us who’d been born slaves to de Archer family jus’ stayed on as servants.
“Mistress Annabelle had a mouth on her, dat’s for sure. I knewed from early on dat she was a mage, well, we called dem witch doctors back den, but dat’s what everyone was, jus’ de same. Both shame and pride she was to her father, an’ he let her turn away every man who came knockin’, but by den, even Master Pierre was gittin’ riled. Yes’um, I remember de little white girl who did odd jobs for Old Ben. Daughter of Irish immigrants from de other side of the city, she was.
“Oh lordy, all dat must have been back in the 1850’s, but I’s too tired now to t’ink of the right year. All dem Nephandi were ‘round den, too, and dat’s how I always remember when it was. Maybe you could find out for me, Miss Rose, dere’s a whole lot of stuff from dat time down at de New Orleans Hall of Records downtown…” Marguerite started to trail off and nestle down into the sheets. “I’s tired now, y’all come back later.”
“Thank you, Marguerite, you’ve been very helpful.” Rose nodded to us as the old woman settled into sleep. Remy and I put our chairs back and the three of us went back outside.
“Well, Jean, what do you think now?” Rose asked as we began the walk back home.
“I’ll tell you what I told Remy. I think that little girl left some kind of powerful psychic resonance or energy in your house, and somehow I unwittingly zoned in on it, and it caused the dream. Also, I don’t see why we’re spending so much time worrying about one stupid dream when that guy and his zombies are still out there.”
“We’re investigating this because I’m not ignoring the possibility that these two incidents might be connected in some way. Marguerite mentioned that there was a problem with the Nephandi, and you mentioned in your dream that Annabelle and that man were arguing about what to do about them. From all descriptions, the man we’re looking for is probably a Nephandi,” she replied.
“What makes a Nephandi different from a regular mage besides that they serve the Wyrm?”
“It’s not that they serve the Wyrm per se, at least, they don’t think of it that way. As far as they’re concerned, they forward anarchy and chaos in service of their infernal masters.”
“Yeah,” Remy broke in, “those of us in the mystical Traditions fight to keep reality out of their hands. Well, and the Technocracy too.”
“The Technocracy?”
“A society of mages devoted to codifying reality in as many ways as possible, and forwarding the idea of science over magic,” answered Rose.
“Oh, ok. And these are good guys too?”
“The war for reality isn’t being fought by just two sides. The Technocracy is trying to eradicate the other mages, or ‘reality deviants’ as they call us, while the Nephandi are primarily concerned with their own goals, though will fight the rest of us if we get in the way. The Nine Mystic Traditions want to keep reality in the best paradigm for the general masses, so we’re forced against the Technocracy and the Nephandi, but of the two, the former is more of a long-term threat, while the latter’s plans usually must be dealt with as soon as possible.”
“And there’s Marauders too, don’t forget them, Rose.”
“What’s a Marauder?”
“An insane mage. If you ever meet one, run like hell to wherever you can,” Remy said, and I shrugged.
Even though it was afternoon when we got back to the house, it was noticeable that all the lights were off. We went in through the back door, and Ruby met us in the kitchen.
“Miz Rose, all de power’s done gone, an’ I called de ‘lectric company, an’ dey said dere wasn’t much dey could do, ‘cause all over de city dere’s been rollin’ brown-outs, and no one know why, but dey workin’ on it.”
“The power plant is probably overloaded again, I’ll turn on the generator.”
“Nuh-uh, tried dat al’ready. It was dead.”
“Really? Come on, kids.”
Rose led us back outside and around to a small shed. Grabbing a flashlight that was hanging beside the door, she went inside and waved us in as well. A large generator sat, filling up the space, silent. The elder mage bent down to check it.
“It’s got a full tank of fuel, and seems to be fine.” She clicked several switches and nothing happened. “I’m not sure why it won’t work, but I’m going to shift power to the battery.”
Remy nudged me. “Watch, this is cool.”
Suddenly, the generator whirred into action, and strangely enough, began to glow. The light in the shed went on, and I could hear various other machinery starting up.
“Damn, just keeps going and going, huh?”
“It’s a magic battery, right Rose?”
Putting the flashlight back on its hook and turning off the shed light, Rose started back towards the house. “When you say it that way, you make it sound like some kind of prize from a breakfast cereal box. That is a special battery that draws its power from the primal essence of the universe.”
Back in the kitchen, Ruby was re-setting all the clocks, and I realized that it was nearly three in the afternoon; no wonder I was hungry. What I really wanted was a burger and fries from that great fast-food place in the city that I could never remember the name of.
“So, are we headed into the city?”
“To check out the Hall of Records? Of course. I suggest taking my car.”
“The Hummer?” Remy asked eagerly.
“Yes, but I’m driving, so don’t get your hopes up.”
To Be Continued...
