Squire

The dark-cowled figures communed amongst themselves as they looked over the runes. The inky darkness surrounding them seeming to grow oddly darker in the light from the single black candle burning between them.

There was no misreading this message, especially since it was the same as the previous two nights'. The ritual had been performed with the precision of long familiarity.

Without a word spoken all turned towards the eldest. Though not formerly their leader - there were no leaders amongst such as these - no action would be taken without his approval. After a moment, he nodded once. Action was to be taken then, not that there had been any other choice. The message too clear. The danger too real. Two of the hooded figures bowed and moved off immediately to perform the task. The rest watched them go, lingering a moment, before they too withdrew - each moving in their own direction as if to deny all knowledge of what they had found.

The next morning, as a light rain descended on the streets of London, Constable Rotherby found the woman lying dead in the alley. The tablods were abuzz later that day with tales of the zodiac wheel carved into her naked back, and the collection of small oddly shaped black stones smeared in dried blood and clinging clustered to the symbol for twins, the Gemini.

Halfway across Europe, the wind rattled the heavy wooden shutters on the side of the little abbey like they were made from little more than tissue paper.

Eidrich just shook his head resignedly as placed the ladder against the wall and prepred to climb up it in the afternoo chill. The abbot was a decent man, and Eidrich had always appriciated his kindness in letting him stay here after the death of his wife in the fire. Some days though, he could be a test to the patience of any man. Edrich started his slow descent up the ladder.

Today for example, any fool could see that it was a miserable day to be out and about. The cool wind coming down off the mountain peaks had brought with it more than just cold, but an unseasnonable dampness that worked its way through the clothes no matter how many layers you added. The abbot's insistance that this shutter be fixed today when it had been banging loose for almost a month seemed more motivated by spite than necessity. Eidrich chuckled to himself. He had asked why someone else, one of the young boys who were in training for example, could not be sent out in the cold instead of him. After all, he was approaching old age himself these days. The abbot clearly was maintaining a grudge for Eidrich's drunken comment last night though and quoted some dribble about a man needing to bend his hand to labour himself to discover his inner peace. To be fair, Eidrich could have picked a better time to reopen the age old disagreement than when he had 'liberated' the wine reserved for services.

Few would accuse a man of god of such a earthly failing as spite too... unless one had come to know the abbot over as many years as Eidrich had. He remember when he was just a boy and had caught the abbot engaging in an entirely different earthly sin with one of the local townswomen. It was from this very window too, since it looked across the courtyard directly towards the abbots bedroom. Eidrich grinned at the memory and glanced across there now as he absently reached out to grab the shutter and stop it's merry clatter. Sure enough, there was the abbot now, moving around his bedroom. No doubt preparing for his afternoon absolutions.

As Eidrich looked on, the darkness in the corner of the room seemed to coalese behind the abbot. Out of the blackness stepped two hooded figures. Before Eidrich could call out, one stepped up behind the abbot grabbed the aged man by the scruff of his neck, lifting him off his feet - an impressive task given the abbot's somewhat portly nature.

Eidrich watched as the cowled head moved close to the abbot's ear over his shoulder. Whatever words were softly exchanged, the abbots face changed from one of fear to one of calm. The sort of calm resignment one has in the face of something they can not, or will not, change.

Eidrich watched as the abbot said something but he was too far to have any hope of hearing it. The hooded figures looked at each other and then the second stepped up and seemed to produce some sort of flaming sword from within the confines of its robes. In one smooth stroke, unencumbered by any hesitation, the figure severed the abbot's body in two. The lower half fell to the floor, to be joined in a moment by the torso as the first dark demon released its grip.

Eidrich looked on in shock and releaxed his grip on the shutter. Free once again, it proceeded to crack back against the side of building. The two hooded figures looked up at the noise and Eidrich's blood ran cold. He knew he had to get down and tell the rest of the brothers about what he'd witnessed. He felt frozen in place as he watched one of the hooded figures turn and disappear back into the shadows in the room.

He felt the waft of warm air from the shadows of the window behind him a moment later, and knew that someone else would fix the shutter after all and benefit from the inner peace in the doing of it.

For Eidrich felt no inner peace in the last moment of his life.

Twenty seven. To some, it would have been just another number. A figure of speech used to indicate that something tangible existed in a given quantity. To some, it may have represented the amount of money their new sweater cost them or the amount of minutes that must pass before they could leave work. To Squire, it represented his life.

Squire was, by all accounts, a handsome young man in his early twenties. He was of average height and build for a male his age. Dark hair, just long enough to be pulled back and bound with the burgundy silk cord, was made distinctive by the single streak of grey running along the left side. A legacy of the fire and a permanent reminder of the cost of failure. The hair combined with the dark glasses, black skin-tight leather gloves, goatee and dark trench coat created an impression of someone who wanted to be left alone. It was, in fact, perfectly designed to create that impression.

The number twenty seven had occupied Squire's mind a lot of late. That number was what separated him from the people he passed on the street.

“Oops!” exclaimed a woman in her mid thirties who accidentally bumped into him. She was a plump woman but had a cheerful face. Her newly styled hairdo telling the tale of her afternoon at the mall. “I'm sorry”, she apologized.

But the words were lost as Squire kept on walking without acknowledging her. After a momentary glance at his retreating back, she continued on her way as well.

It wasn't that Squire didn't take notice of her, she just wasn't important. Squire had learned to notice everything and dismiss what he couldn't make use of. A series of lessons learned the hard way. He had had to learn a lot over the short span of his life. Much of it he would gladly trade away in exchange for a new life. Unfortunately, he was stuck with this one and those lessons were the only thing keeping him alive at this point.

He walked purposefully though the crowd, keeping his eyes fixed on the figure walking on the upper level of the mall. It was the only thing that was important right now. It hadn't noticed him yet as far as he knew. He risked a glance ahead and saw an escalator going up. He looked back up to see the figure looking down at him. He watched it, looking for any sign of what it was going to do next. Frozen in place, the two dark figures considered each other from a distance. Then Squire's quarry nodded at him. He couldn't believe it! He was here to destroy it, and it nodded to him as one would to a stranger who gave you the time of day. Without any further delay, the figure turned and continued the same way it had been going, moving quickly through the crowd now.

Squire chased after it, moving as quickly as he could through the throng of Sunday afternoon shoppers. Damn it! It was moving away faster than him. The crowd of people seemed to open up and let it though while he had to struggle past every overweight, slow moving, overage... aaragh! He let out an internal scream of frustration as it slipped out of his sight. At last he reached the escalator and raced up it, shoving his way past the people in his way to their aggravation.

He raced down the direction he had seen it go last and saw it enter a ship just up ahead. When he got there he raced in afterward to discover he was in a girl's clothing store. He slowed when he saw it disappear into the corridor that led to the change rooms. It was trapped.

“Can I help you?”, chimed a blonde girl in a typical valley girl accent as she moved in front of him. She couldn't have been more than fourteen, but was wearing clothes and makeup in a teenage girls version of a twenty year old.

“Yes. I'm looking for my wife. I'm sure she's in the back. I'll just go check, ” he said brushing on by her.

“Sir! You can't go back there like this. Sir,” she said trying to catch up to him. Her skintight leather skirt didn't allow her to run though and she quickly fell behind.

“What do you think you're doing!” she cried. Obviously her training had encompassed strange men refusing to listen to her.

“Oh honey,” Squire called mockingly as he entered the corridor, “I'm home!”

There were four doors in all. The first was open and a typical compact change room lay beyond. The second he opened without thought to discover a pudgy teenage girl trying to cram into a dress that was clearly two sizes too small for her. She looked up seeing him with her arms stuck above her head in the dress and did what any girl would do. Screamed.

“I'm calling security if you don't leave here right now!” The store clerk had caught up to him finally and was clearly upset.

Squire didn't care. They were unimportant.

Before he could open the third door, another girl, alerted by the scream, poked her head out to see what was wrong. That left the fourth door. This one was painted a different colour than the others and designed to blend into the wall better. Squire, ignoring the ongoing screams of the chubby girl and the threats of the clerk yanked the door open. Beyond lay a hallway. Shit! He should have thought of this sooner, it was the service tunnels that ran behind the stores. He sped though the door and looked both ways down the tunnel. Which way? In a moment he took off down the left hand fork, that had been the direction it had been going before, it stood to reason that it would continue. Sure enough as he passed the first fork, a movement caught his eye down to his right. He backed up and saw the figure go through a door. He raced down after it, drawing his power to him. The hairs on the back of his neck began to tingle. Not long now. He ran full out down the hallway, turned though the door and paused.

The room was painted white and had no other exits. Bins along one wall suggested that the stores brought their paper and cardboard here so it could be recycled. Squire took all this in, in a heartbeat. But it was unimportant. What was before him had his full attention.

There, in front of him, were not one, but three tall figures in dark robes.

The door slammed shut behind him.

Of course, how could he have been so blind? It was a trap.

“I'll get it Enna,” Siane said.

“Oh would you? This back of mine is killing me today,” the older woman said.

Siane looked around the stationary store she worked in. It wasn't as big as some of the chains, but everything in it gave off a feel of home. The cards along one wall were being looked at by a couple of customers and a mother and her small girl were playing with one of the stuffed animal displays near the front.

“Are you sure you'll be okay?” Siane asked.

“Oh go on child, I ran this store for thirteen years before I hired you, I'm sure I can manage for five minutes. Now get that stuff out of here.” Enna smiled at Siane.

She had been like a second mother to Siane and Siane suspected that she was like the daughter Enna had never had time to have.

Siane picked up the pile of flattened shipping boxes the new cards had come in and pushed open the door to the maintenance tunnels. As she carried the boxes she thought again of the store. This would be her last year at collage and Enna had made it clear that she would be willing to hire Siane on full-time. In a way, Siane was blessed. She could come out of collage and slowly take over the store Enna had built. Enna was getting old and wanted to spend more time with her sister's family up north. If Siane proved competent, Enna would probably offer her a fair price for the store in another few years. Siane would be set with a healthy business and steady clientele. Still she wanted to see the world. The lack of a family of Enna's own was testimony to the hours one had to put in, in order to have a successful store. She might never have the chance to travel or explore the many other wonderful things the world had to offer if she took Enna's place.

Giving up for the moment on such depressing thoughts, Siane pushed her way into the recycling room to discover four men dressed in black. She wanted to turn and leave right then, but she had already entered the room and the door was closing already. With her hands full of cardboard boxes, she couldn't readily catch it. Giving a mental sigh, she turned back to the room and took at look at the men.

At first she was concerned that they were from some gang. All but one dressed in black and the odd one out dressed in a black trench coat. Then she realized that the three in robes were spread in a rough semi-circle around the other man. She realized that some sort of mischief was afoot and that she'd rather have no part in it. The path to the cardboard bin was clear though so she sought to break the mood in the room.

“You boys should really be back here you know,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone as she walked to the bin. “Some of the store owners can get really upset about people wandering back here. What with all the shipments and all.”

She heaved the cardboard into the bin and turned around. The three cloaked heads were all looking at her. The man in the middle was standing with his hands hanging at his sides. He was curling and uncurling his fingers like some duel-anticipating cowboy in a western movie.

“You'd better just get out of here miss.”

She looked trying to identify where the voice had come from.

“I can handle one on a good day, two if I'm lucky but it's likely to get a little messy in here with three,” he said in a calm voice.

She now knew it was the man in the middle who had spoken. His voice was calm but the movement of his hand and her instincts screamed that he was very nervous. She realized with stark certainty that it could very well be something much worse than a fight she had walked into.

“He went that way officer,” a high-pitched girls voice could be heard out in the hallway.

“It sounds like someone is on their way to see you,” Siane said, still maintaining a casual tone of voice like one would use amongst friends. “You might want to get moving and carry on your party later. I've met Sam and believe me; he loves getting people to fill out all kinds of paperwork. His security goons aren't exactly fun to deal with either. I don't think he hires them for their looks or their brains, if you get my drift.”

Drifting was exactly what Siane was doing, trying to extradite herself from this situation before it got worse. She was started back to the door and no one else had moved yet.

“Well, if you hurry, you could probably get in on some of those free samples the ice cream store was giving away today. I've been dying to go myself all day but all I can do is stare at it from my counter.”

Siane kept up the endless stream of chatter while she moved across the floor. About halfway now, she'd get out of here and then send Sam and his goons in to deal with these guys. She saw one of the hoods, the one in the middle facing the strange man, nod at the one closest to her. He started towards her just as the door opened and in walked Sam with two of his security crew and a girl wearing way too much makeup and a tight skirt.

“He's the one officer,” the girl said pointing at the man in the trench coat.

“Well now, it seems that there is a party and no one though to invite me,” Sam's barritone voice boomed in the little room. “Hello Siane,” he said taking notice of her for the first time, “do you know any of these gentlemen?” he asked.

“No Sam,” she replied. She felt the tension should have lessened but the four men continued to face off in the centre of the room. “I was just dropping off the boxes for the day for Enna. These gentlemen were keeping me company while I did so, but since they were here first I was just about to leave.”

“I see,” said Sam. “Well, best you be off now. I think I'm going to have these boys come down to my office to chat a little. Guys, gather them up.”

The two goons that acted as Sam's watchdogs, started forward to the four dark figures. Siane sighed and started to the door, glad to be getting out of here. That was when hell broke loose.

Squire had been listening to the non-stop babble by the girl and the guards orders, but his attention had remained fixed on the robed figures. They were all that mattered. Them and figuring a way out of this mess.

How could he have been so stupid? He should never have been able to catch up to the one he'd been chasing. It had purposefully slowed down to let him catch up. And he, the gullible fool, had played right into its hands. Entering the trap unaware. Idiot.

He looked at the three hooded figures and took stock. They were all dressed in black robes, giving them the look of Death triplets. In a way that wasn't so far off the truth. If he let his guard slip, even for a second, he'd be dead. Always before when he'd faced one, they had been alone and he'd caught them by surprise. Hardly a picture of a noble knight doing battle with his foe, but Squire understood what was at risk. Understood what hesitating meant. He had killed three of them to date. The last had sensed him a moment to soon and avoided the deathblow. What had ensued was a battle that left a burning warehouse in its wake, baffling fire investigators. But he had triumphed. Encouraged by that win, he had set off, confident in the foolish way only youth can be, to find and destroy the rest. He should have known that word would spread. Should have known that they wouldn't sit by idly while he killed them. Now he stood facing three. And it wasn't by surprise. They were ready for him.

He had almost moved to intercept the one when it headed for the girl. Foolish. It would have left him open to attack from the other two. Let her and her run away mouth get it. He couldn't be responsible for every person who was too dumb to realize when they were in over their head. Then that clerk had arrived bringing the mall security with her. Dumb people. As if the uniforms on the dime-a-dozen security guys proved anything. Their training probably amounted to a one-hour video with a multiple-choice test at the end. They had no idea of the strength of those they faced. And as he heard the head rent-a-cop give the order, he knew they would pay for that ignorance.

As the goons started forward, the lead hooded figure raised his arms and signalled the other two who turned to face the goons. The goons just grinned anticipating a chance for a good brawl. They were tall, taller even than the six-foot hooded figures and built like walls. It didn't help them.

The leader of hooded figures brought his hands straight up in front of him, palms up and hands closed in fists. Then he opened them. Squire, knowing a little of what to expect was already on the move by then.

The figure opened his hands and a bolt of lightening arched between them. From its midpoint a bolt flew out and straight into the chest of the closest goon, sending him flying into the wall. The second security guard barely had time to let the surprise show on his face before the hooded figure closest to him turned and stabbed him in the chest. The figures fingers had lengthened by about 3 inches and looked like glowing daggers. The guard fell back as the hooded figure, using both hands now, stabbed repeatedly at his torso. Sam drew his gun as the third hooded figure lifted his arm. It never got the chance to complete its action as Squire slammed into it from the side. A ball of light flew upward and hit the ceiling, showering bits of paint and plaster down around everyone. The clerk, momentarily shocked, recovered her voice and began screaming. Sam, taking aim at the leader began to fire his gun.

Siane didn't know what to do. She stood frozen against the wall, unable to run. She watched in horrified fascination as the leader of the hooded things seemingly dodged the bullets fired at him and then, seemed to fire back, though she could see no gun. On the ground near her, the man in the trench coat and a hooded figure rolled back and forth, locked in combat. Then the man in the coat broke free of the others hold and jammed his into the opening of the hood on either side of the head. There was a muffled explosion and light shone out of the robes openings. As the man in the trench coat drew his hands out, she was sure she saw the robe collapse, as it it were a balloon someone had just let the air out of. The man in the coat looked up at her briefly. Her breath caught in her throat. His glasses had been knocked askew and she could see his eyes staring at her. He seemed to look right through her, but more incredibly, his eyes were golden.

“Hide yourself in the bin!” he yelled, pointing to the metal recycling bin she had tossed the cardboard into.

He looked as though he would say more when a bolt of energy hit him in the shoulder flinging him off the robe.

That was all the incentive she needed. She bolted for the bin and dove inside. It was reasonably large and she had no trouble fitting tucked down below the rim. She could still hear screaming and shots from a gun. Dust from exploded paint and plaster filled the air and flashes of light kept brightening the room. She pulled some cardboard over her, recognizing the ineffectiveness of this shield, but feeling better nonetheless. She covered her ears trying to drown out the noise and closed her eyes to the light. Suddenly, her whole body convulsed in pain. One of the lightening bolts must have hit the metal of the bin. Energy surged through her body, her muscles spasm against the assault. She thought her brain would burst free from her skull as the bolts of electricity arched from the wall of the bin to her. After what seemed like an eternity, it didn't hurt anymore. By then, nothing hurt anymore. Her world had gone black.

“You can come out now.”

Siane stirred and tried to roll over, and felt pain. She warily opened her eyes and discovered it dark. Where was she? Then with frightening certainty she remembered. The strange men, the security officers, the bizarre and terrifying fight. Could it have all been real?

She could barely make out the walls of the bin she had dived into. The only light appeared to come from out in the hallway. She glanced up and discovered that the lights on the ceiling had been shattered in the pandemonium. She gingerly lifted herself into a sitting position and peeked above the rim. Broken plaster and bodies littered the floor. Black marks on the wall betrayed the existence of the energy let loose in the battle. She didn't see any sign of movement. She began to extradite her self from the bin, brushing at the piles of ash and charred cardboard which covered her. As she stands up and goes to climb out a hand reaches out to help her. The sudden movement startles her and she loses her grip, falling back into the bin.

“You should be more careful,” a voice cautions.

Siane spins around, her hand holding what will surely be a decent bump on her head after colliding with the bin. She finally notices the man in the trench coat standing just to the left of the bin. Her forgotten fear comes flooding back and she shies away from the outstretched hand.

“Fine. Have it your way,” he says withdrawing the hand. “Damn modern day females, won't let you hold a door open for them, but get upset if you don't remember the birthday of their pet dog.”

Siane stared at him a moment longer trying to assess how much of a threat he posed. He stood there calmly looking at her through those dark glasses. She hesitated a second longer then she climbed out of the bin.

“I suppose this is the way you spend your typical Sunday afternoons,” she said to him. “I suppose those were your gang friends, huh?”

The man in the trench coat just stood there looking at her. Motionless, almost like a statue, no one would notice him in the dim light unless they were looking right at him.

“I'm going to get going now,” she says, hoping to get back to Enna and the store. Back out of this nightmare to something that resembled normal. She was even beginning to doubt most of what she'd seen. After all, people didn't shoot lightening bolts from their hands or have eyes of gold.

“If you know what is good for you, you'll beat it out of here before the cops show up.”

“You should be careful,” he said advancing a step. “The Zar do not like to have word of them spread. They may seek to quiet you.”

“Yeah, right. A bunch of crazy men in black cloaks have nothing better to do than chase a cashier in a stationary store,” she retorted edging away from him. He may not have done anything to her, but she still didn't trust him.

“You don't understand,” he said, still advancing toward her.

She began to reply when her heel caught on something and she began to tumble backward. Giving a quick cry of alarm she windmilled her arms trying to catch her balance. The man in the trench coat took two quick steps and reached out and steadied her. She regained her balance and quickly jerked her arm away.

“Keep your hands off of me. I don't know who you are but I don't want to have anything to do with you,” she said.

He let out a quiet but exasperated sigh and let her go, returning to his statue-like pose.
She smoothed out her dress and looked down at the ground to see what she had tripped over. Something lay on the ground just behind her and as she bent to take a closer look she felt bile rising in her throat. It was the decapitated head of the store clerk who had arrived with Sam.

“I guess she won't be making that annoying high-pitched scream anymore,” he observed.
Siane spun back to face him.

“You inconsiderate bastard! How can you say such a thing!” she screamed at him.

“She wasn't important,” he replies in a calm voice, “only they were important and two of them got away.”

“Who the hell are you talking about!” she cried. She was still upset, but was finding that taking it out on him helped. “This girl had a family and friends. Even Sam's goons deserved better than this. Who the hell are you to decide who is “important” and who isn't?”

The man in the coat stood looking at her, his hands clasped in front of him and legs slightly spread. He looked like a military man standing at ease. Which is to say that he looked like he was ready to spring to life at any minute. She thought he looked like he would stay there forever. Well, that was fine with her. She shook her head and shouldered her way past him. His voice stopped her.

“They are the end of the world,” he said, “and I am all that stands between them and the destruction of every child and person who you ever knew.”

She paused looking back at him.

“They are the Zar Mortei and they don't care about you or any other person they lay eyes on,” he continued, turning around. He reached up and took his glasses off as he approached her. “They have been around for a very long time and are responsible for more atrocities than you can imagine. I am the only person they fear, and if I don't stop them, no one will. That is why I don't cry when one teenage girl dies or a couple of over built thugs finally lose a fight. I can't waste my time on them. The Zar are the only ones who matter.”

She was almost ready to believe him. But as he drew close to her, the light from the hallway caught his face. She saw his eyes. They weren't gold. They were brown. Her disbelief came back. Of course he didn't have gold eyes, he was just another punk from some gang who had been in a fight. It must have been the shock causing her to see things. She couldn't really trust anything that she had seen. They were probably one of those new high-tech gangs using some sort of high-powered stun guns or stolen military weapons. She'd read about them in the papers. What they'd be doing in the little town of Smithsville she didn't know. Maybe it was a drug deal gone bad. Regardless, she'd had enough of this creep.

“Look buster, I don't know what kind of games you're playing, but I'm done. I'm getting out of here and reporting what I know to the cops. If you're smart you'll do the same.”

He wiped the dust off his glasses and put them back on.

“You don't understand. This isn't some gang thing. The Zar aren't like you or me,” he said.

“Okay. I get it. Well, look here buddy, I've seen enough vampire flicks in my time too. A male Buffy! What will they think of next? So when do these boogie men come out. What are you going to do? Splash some holy water on them?” she said.

He grabbed her wrist tightly and drew her close to him. She could see herself and the sudden fear in her eyes she had at his unexpected outburst in the reflection of his dark glasses.

“This is no game,” he whispered. “These things are not some writer's ticket to fame in the next Hollywood horror film. They won't come after you slowly and wait until you scream before they rip out your throat. They won't entertain you with their master scheme before they kill you. And if they shoot at you, one bullet is all they'll need.”

He gazed into her eyes at the dawning terror there. Then, with a flash of her eyes he saw her look return to one of self righteous indignation. Why did he even try.

“Let go of me,” she said twisting out of his grasp. “What kind of freak are you? That kind of stuff might work on little children and feeble minded fools, but not me! What gives you the right to... ”

He tuned out the rest of what she was saying. It surely wasn't important. Why did he always try to save them? It hadn't worked when he'd tried to warn Jodi. She had dismissed it at first as a practical joke. When he had persisted she had become angry with him telling him to seek medical help for his delusions. “And flights of angels kept watch” hardly seemed like an appropriate epitaph for the girl who had taught him about the imitate side of adolescence, yet that was all he had to speak of her now. He still remembered the day he had stood in the rain gazing at the piece of granite that marked her final resting place. He had left town that same day, there was after all, nothing to hold him there anymore.

The hair on the back of his neck was still tingling. He figured that the Zar were still nearby. He had been lucky not to have been killed. If it hadn't been for the security