The Arcane Light’s
TALES OF THE ARCANE
Contributions by:
A. Grove
Teeko
LC Schwartz
Cover art by: LC Schwartz
The Arcane Light’s
TALES OF THE ARCANE
Copyright © 2015 by LC Schwartz
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This book is a work of fiction. The characters are productions of the
authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
The Beginning - by A. Grove
The Organizers- by Teeko
Casefile: The Butterfly (Chapter 2) - by LC Schwartz
THE BEGINNING
by A. Grove
The smell is the thing that stays with you. As I stand in the middle of the old warehouse's main floor I look around at the room for the first time. Noticing the small details I missed when I first entered – like the shrine covered in candles and offerings of jewellery, money and stolen mobiles, or the doors leading to old offices that have probably been made into personal rooms and sleeping places that won't be used again. The side table set up as a production area and covered in baggies – a collection of pills, powder and weed. The walls are covered in a strange mix of pictures of naked women and both carved and painted occult symbols.
As I look at one of the page 3 pullouts that's been stuck up I realise I can't make out her face because of a dark stain smeared across it. It is then that the smell assaults my senses once more and I am brought back to myself from the daze. Looking down at the floor surrounding me I see again the lumps of charred meat and blackened bones that used to be people. The people that lived and worked here. Staring at one red and black lump I find it incomprehensible that it used to be human, the shape is merely a fleshy oblong, no limbs, no head, no features. And yet less than ten minutes ago it was screaming threats and pleading with me from a mouth that no longer exists.
A wave of nausea hits me but I struggle to the surface and force myself to focus. I start to bring my hands up to rub some clarity into my eyes but freeze. I am no Lady Macbeth and the blood on my hands is definitely not metaphorical. Glancing down at myself I notice for the first time that I am stained by blood all over, just like the floor, ceiling and walls of the room. For a moment I wonder how the blood sprayed so far and wide but then it hits me just exactly what I've done. Forcing someone apart from the inside makes for quite an impressive explosion. I close my eyes as the realisation washes over me.
“Don't move.”
My eyes snap open again to see men with automatic rifles pointed straight at me. I turn my head enough to see they have me surrounded but apparently that makes them nervous as the loud sound of a gun being cocked follows the movement. It's an unnecessary move you only really see in movies but it's a sound with an unmistakable meaning. I stare at the one in front of me. They are dressed head to toe in black tactical armour, no inch of skin exposed and no features visible. They are uniform and anonymous. They are my end I'm sure of it.
But no shots come. Instead we stand there in tense silence, staring at each other while they wait for some signal I will have no knowledge of. Except I'm wrong and I watch the soldier in front of me cock his head to the side. Listening. If I could see their faces maybe I would be able to tell what orders were just received. Maybe I would know how my fate had been decided.
I see him nod at a soldier behind me and a confusing mixture of relief and disappointment flits through my mind at the thought of not seeing the bullet coming straight at me. Every muscle in my body is rigid as I wait for the inevitable. She is the last thing I think about.
A loud thump echoes in the silent room and I fall into the blackness exploding in front of my eyes.
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Throbbing. The first thing I notice as consciousness slowly seeps back into my body is the throbbing emanating from the base of my skull, like someone is playing a pulsating dance beat with my bones. Slowly I prise my eyes open but find that was an almost futile gesture. I am lying in a small room that is almost completely dark, there is only a tiny red wisp hovering in a cage above the door to provide any light and prevent total darkness enclosing me. It feels a lot like someone is trying to make a point with that, but then I have a tendency to read too much into simple things. The floor I'm lying on is cold stone, the walls and ceiling the same. The whole room has a chilling feeling to it, something embedded in the stones, a weight of cold history pressing in. This is undeniably a cell, a prison, a dungeon.
As I lay my head back down on the floor I try to relax into the coolness, hoping it will help the pain. So far my first experience of being knocked out with a rifle is not a pleasant one. It doesn't help matters that I have this sinking feeling that my day is only going to get worse. Shutting my eyes I let tiredness pull me back into the oblivion of sleep.
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As insistent metal clanging forces me awake for what has to be the fiftieth time. After falling asleep the first time I've found myself rudely awoken over and over again. It's almost as if somebody doesn't want me well-rested and at full power. I don't bother to raise my head from the stone or acknowledge whoever is outside my cell; I've already learned nothing will change. The bleakness of my situation continues and the cold stone gives away nothing. I try again for sleep.
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This time I wake myself up. I can't stop shivering. Lying on the cold stone floor has sucked all the heat from me. I pull myself upright so I'm sitting in the centre of the cell, minimising the amount of contact I have with the stone surfaces. My teeth chatter loudly against my will and I pull my knees up, hugging them to my chest in the vain hope that it will keep in the little warmth I have left. It doesn't help. I can't remember ever feeling this cold but as the cold is all I can focus on maybe I just don't remember right now. I try to focus on remembering and vaguely recall cold winter nights huddled in blankets after the electric meter ran out. I was smaller then, less able to stand the cold so I'm sure this is worse.
Why knock me out and drag me away just to leave me to freeze in a dark cell? Why didn't they just shoot me? Is a slow death by hypothermia a new strange means of justice?
A loud scraping interrupts my tired thoughts and as I stare towards the wisp I see a small hatch being dragged open in the centre of the door. I release my knees; if they try anything I will attempt to fight back. Pitiful as that may be. But I see no one. There is light beyond the hatch in whatever hallway or room is outside the cell and I squint into its blinding brightness but there is no one on the other side. Despite this fact an object is shoved through the hatch and as I watch it drop to the floor I hear the scraping sound of metal closing.
Slowly I crawl towards the thing on the floor, thinking that it must be magick keeping whoever is on the other side of this cell hidden. If I had any remaining doubts that those that took me might have been police that is now gone. I've never met a cop with even the smallest sensitivity. Plus I can't see The Met still having dungeons.
I pause with my fingers hovering above the object on the stone floor. They could have done numerous things to it, tricks and traps, things to enact more of their brand of justice. I'm not entirely sure that it's not a type of justice I deserve. Cur
iosity and a desperate desire for a distraction from the cold monotony win out.
Fabric. I'm not sure what exactly they've given me but it is fabric of some kind so slowly freezing to death is not my fate. Grabbing hold of it I quickly shuffle back away from the door. I unfold the bundle and hold it out as best I can, trying to identify it in the dark. I almost laugh aloud when I figure out what it is, whoever they are they have a twisted sense of humour. By this point I don't give a shit though so I don't hesitate to pull the heavy straitjacket around me.
It's not exactly warm and cosy but the thickness of it helps to take some of the bite out of the cold. With nothing else to do I sit and stare at the wisp, thinking about the mess I've gotten myself into.
THE ORGANIZERS
by Teeko
“Pardon me. Mind if I take this seat?”
The hotel bar was fairly crowded and this was the only free seat he could see, so he felt it was a reasonable request and was confident the woman he asked would agree.
The woman in question was a buxom red headed bombshell, looking to be in her mid-twenties, dressed in a short black dress and high heels that he wondered if it actually was possible to walk in. The outfit looked expensive, but honestly, he was clueless regarding women’s fashion and it might as well be something cheap off the rack at Walmart.
He felt lucky he got the chance to sit next to her and was surprised she wasn’t swarmed by men trying to pick her up. After all, there was no shortage here of men far away from home and their wives, just like him.
“No, not all. Please go ahead”
The woman replied with a welcoming voice and a warm smile. She kept eye contact as he sat down, signaling that she expected further conversation, and he could barely look away from her captivating deep blue eyes.
“Are you also here for the convention?” he started.
“Mmhmm. Yes I am” she replied with a curious smile.
“I can’t remember seeing you at any of the seminars today. And I hope you don’t mind me saying, I’m sure I would have remembered seeing someone as attractive as you.”
He managed to keep a smiling face even though he felt he came on too strong there and feared he would have ruined any chances of further conversion. Or more...
She giggled and it was the sweetest sound he had heard in a long time.
“No, I only just arrived tonight” she explained, followed by a short laughter that melted his heart and washed away all his fear and insecurity.
“Oh… That’s a shame you missed today’s seminars. They were very interesting, especially the one…”
She put a finger to his lips and he immediately silenced.
“Can I tell you a secret?” she asked in a low alluring voice and he nodded in response.
She leaned in closer to him and continued in the same low voice, so he could barely hear her over the noise in the bar.
“I’m actually not here for the seminar. I’m here for the ones attending it.”
She finished the sentence with a wink of her eye.
He was taken by surprise by her words and could only offer a surprised look while thinking of something to say, but nothing came to mind.
She giggled again and continued, with excitement in her voice.
“I just loooove smart men. Nothing turns me on more than a man with a brain that he knows how to use. Who knows, one of you here might be the one that finds the cure for cancer or invents the next big thing that’ll make the smartphone yesterday’s news.”
His surprise changed into pride. Although he definitely wasn’t close to either of those two things she mentioned, here was a woman that appreciated his work!
His thoughts were disrupted by the lovely sound of the woman’s almost whispering voice.
“Being so close to all this... intelligence. Knowing that someone here, maybe you, could soon change history gets me so excited!”
Her deep blue eyes appeared to beam with true excitement and he realized this seemed to be leading to something beyond his expectations and he smiled back at her, when suddenly he was struck by a hint of bad conscience that made him put his right hand over his left to cover his wedding ring.
As she noticed this, she put her hand on his and leaned in even closer to him and whispered in his ear.
“Don’t worry about that. I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”
She leaned back again and giggled before looking him in the eyes and with an unexpected seriousness that took him completely off guard she asked, or rather, ordered him!
“Take me to your room. Now.”
He was not late to follow the command and led her by the hand away from the bar and to the hotel elevator. They got the elevator to themselves and as soon as the door closed she put her arms around his neck and started kissing him passionately.
He had never felt this desired before in his whole life and he let himself get caught up in the moment, returning her kisses and letting his hands explore her body. She didn’t seem to mind that at all, rather the contrary and she moaned loudly into his mouth as his hands reached her behind and he pressed her close to him.
They got interrupted by the elevator announcing the arrival at their destination and the door opened. The corridor was empty and they hurried to his room. At the door he fumbled slightly in all the excitement, but in between all the kisses he was receiving he finally managed to open it after a few attempts.
The hotel room was small and the bed was just a few steps in. Even so, they were both naked before they reached it and fell down upon it, holding each other tightly.
After several hours of wild passionate sex, of the likes he could only have dreamed of before or watched on the internet, they both lay exhausted next to each other on the bed.
His lips moved slightly as his eyes wandered slowly across her face. She found this curious and asked whispering.
"What are you doing?"
He smiled at her and replied.
"I'm counting your freckles."
"Don't be silly" she giggled and turned her face away.
"What's so silly about that?" he asked with genuine surprise. She turned her face back to him and looked him straight in the eyes.
"It just... is. OK?"
Her smile told him that he hadn’t done anything wrong and he felt that this was a woman that would like him even if he was a little silly. So he took the opportunity.
"Oh now you made me lose my count. I have to start all over again. One, two, three..."
He pointed at each freckle with his finger as he counted. She giggled again and grabbed his hand.
"Shush! Stop it you silly!"
She burst into laughter. Still giggling, she whispered.
"What if I told you..."
Her giggling stopped and a serious expression came over her face. In an equally serious voice she continued.
"The freckles are a curse put on all women in my family. We get one new freckle for every man we kill."
Her words again took him by complete surprise. Not sure what to think, and it wasn’t easy to think at all in his exhausted condition, he could only say one thing.
"You... you're kidding, right?"
Her serious face broke up into a huge smile and she started giggling again.
"Of course I do, you silly!"
He hadn’t more than drawn a sigh of relief before she returned to the serious look and voice again.
"The only thing I get in my face when I kill a man are bloodstains."
He had time for one last thought.
“Where did she get that big knife?”
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After a quick but deep cut across his throat she straddled him and started stabbing him in the chest. The blood splattered as she stabbed him again, again and again... When she started getting close to twenty stabs she was interrupted by the sound of a person slowly clapping their hands. She let the knife rest in the man’s chest and turned around to where the sound originated.
A man in black
clothing stepped out from a dark corner of the room. It was as if he materialized from the shadows around him as he took a few steps towards the bed.
It was a tall, lean man with raven black hair long enough to reach his shoulders. He looked to be somewhere in his thirties and he offered a smile with white teeth that was a stark contrast to his tanned skin and otherwise dark appearance.
He sounded cheerful as he spoke.
“Well done, Sweety! But I think you’re enjoying your work a little too much.”
She smiled back at him and took a lick off the blood on her right hand.
“Hah, why shouldn’t I? And I know you’re enjoying the show more that way.”
The man stopped clapping his hands and chuckled.
“Quite true my dear. I do love watching you at work.”
He bent down to pick something up from the floor.
“Now, why don’t you go clean yourself up while I harvest the product before it gets spoiled?”
“Sure thing” she replied as she got off the bed. “Let’s hope the bitch will be happy with it.”
“Now now” he reproached. “That’s not the way to talk about your mother.”
“Bah!” she cut him off. “Just because she gave birth to me and gave me a name gives her no right to call herself my mother. Now shut up and get to work before you ruin my good mood.”
“Yes Dor..” he started, with a cheeky smile. But she cut him short.
“Shut it! You know I hate that name.”
He chuckled as she disappeared into the bathroom to take a shower, leaving him in the bedroom where he opened his toolbox and started to get to work.
When the woman came back out from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, she saw that the work was done. The man she had spent the last several hours having sex with lies on the bed with his skull cut open and the brain removed. Next to the bed stood the other man with his toolbox in one hand and a bag typical for transportation of human organs in his other.
“I better run off with this now. Time’s ticking. You have clothes in the bag over there.”
He nodded towards a sports bag he had placed on the bed.
“Thanks Hun” she smiled at him. “And everything else is taken care of?”
“Aw, that you even have to ask. You hurt my feelings.”
His giggle and tone of voice revealed he was not hurt at all and he gave her a warm smile.
“The hotel’s surveillance system will for some mysterious reason not have recorded anything between 8 pm and 8 am. And Pavel will also suffer from an unexplained amnesia for the same time slot.”
“Pavel?”
She looked at him quizzically.
“Ah, yes” he giggled. “The head of security. He was most accommodating to my requests. And he also tasted deliciously.”
“Hah! Seems I’m not the only one that’s been enjoying their work tonight” she laughed at him.
“Quite” he confessed, sounding almost apologetic. “Guilty as charged.” After a quick exchange of looks he continued. “Well, as much as I’d love to stay and watch you get dressed, I have a helicopter to catch. The cleanup crew should arrive in about half an hour, so don’t linger too long. Take care now Sweety and don’t get yourself into trouble on the way back.”
“Hah! Now I’m the one to get hurt. Off with you now” she laughed at him. “You know you’ll get to watch me undress later” she added with a wink.
With a pleased smiled the man exited the room and confirmed to himself as he walked away.
“That I do. That I do.”
Silken Whispers
CASEFILE: THE BUTTERFLY
by LC Schwartz