Hope & Fury (Heroes & Demons Book 2)

Five minutes late was par for the course as Ruth waited with their guest in her office. She sat behind her desk, feeling the tick of the clock and waiting to unburden the knowledge she now had. Drake, of MOO, stood patiently to one side. She noted without passing judgement that her visitor seemed to wait out of the line of any of the windows. Caution? Paranoia? Not wanting a tan?

Angel was the first to arrive, coming down as he did from the rooftop access. He stopped when he saw their visitor, instinctively attempting to tuck his bulky wings behind him, gazing cautiously at Drake. She was entirely unperturbed and Ruth assured him it was fine. Angel stood likewise, though kept his wings uncharacteristically low.

Andrew, Louise and Rick arrived all at once. Ruth noted without comment that Rick appeared worse for the wear. A bruise under the eye accompanying the bags of no nights’ sleep, one of Louise’s ice packs on his right shoulder. He did not explain but did acknowledge their visitor.

“Wow, Ruth, this you from the Mirror universe?” he joked, “I wonder whether mine would look good without the beard.”

“We could always shave yours off you?” Louise offered.

“Hazing prank or sex tape?”

A moment later Sandy joined them and their team was complete. She indicated they all take a seat, which all of them did, all of them curious about their new visitor. Ruth smiled inwardly, it seemed the first meeting in a long while where she held most of the cards – a feeling stole over her of it almost being like old times.

“Okay, first I want to thank you all for coming,” she began, slipping almost without realising it back into CE mode. Perhaps she would venture onto third-quarter profits if they had time? She clasped her hands and pressed on, “It’s been a long week and there have been some rather hard times all in all…but I think finally we might have caught the break we’ve been looking for. This is someone who could help us – and please she’s not used to our ways so try not to digress into talking about Pikachu swimwear or werewolf erotica as per previous meetings.”

“Behave in front of the stranger, we get it,” Rick agreed. “Won’t do it, but we get it. And who is the stranger?”

“My name is Drake, I represent an organisation known as MOO.”

Knowing this was the point at which she might lose them, Ruth quickly interjected to explain.

“The Ministry for Occult and Other,” she supplied. “They’re a division of the Government.”

“Not quite,” Drake correctly, stepping in, “We have been our own independent body of likeminded individuals for years, as a compromise with the British government we’ve agreed to work under the Ministry banner. I know it sounds silly but Defence and Justice took the good acronyms.”

“So you’re an agent for a ministry involved in the Occult?” Sandy asked sceptically.

“We don’t call ourselves agents,” Drake began to correct her, but Rick stepped in,

“No, you lot tend to go around without titles, at least the less exciting ones of you do anyway.”

“You’ve heard of MOO?” Sandy asked him, now incredulous, “Aren’t you opening up like a flaming flower today? Any more secrets? You happen to like the music of Rod Stewart by any chance?”

“Yes, but you knew that,” Rick answered her. “I did some consultancy for them a few years ago – when you and I were not exactly on speaking terms. You know, because you got me shot.”

“Why would they consult you?” Louise asked him, not knowing just quite how rude it would have sounded.

“I know you all forget but I do have a PhD in Psychology, Masters in parapsychology, philosophy and comparative religion; as well as three books on the psychospiritual experiences of occult and religious practices,” he reminded them, more than a mite defensively, “It may have been before the time of Ruth Jr over here but if an occult ministry needs a consultant, there is really only one person to call. Well, there is one other beige chub in my mixed field but last I heard he was on the road with his biker boyfriend.”

“It might bruise your ego to know it Dr Carter but you’re not always mentioned around the office,” Drake brought him down a bit. She managed to move the conversation along swiftly, but picked up on his knowing glance, “Look, we know all about you – all of you. We know what happened to you down in that Temple and the threats you’ve faced so far – as well as the attempts to cover it all up. We know and we’ve kept our distance, given you space you need to figure things out.”

“How very noble,” Rick snarked, to a warning look from Ruth.

“They might be calling themselves the New Order now, but they’ve not always gone by that name,” Drake continued, slipping into what sounded oddly like a sales pitch, “We knew them for a long time as simply the Shadow. A side to humanity that always seems to collect together towards their singular purpose – the procurement of power. In the Crusades, it was the procurement of religious relics, later the procurement of science and its power over religion. Recently, wealth and influence over the digital world. Would it surprise you to know that their data collection capabilities make Cambridge Analytica look like peeking in your mate’s underwear drawer?”

“I’m sure it wouldn’t. Simply put they’re a dark side and so diffuse, so spread throughout all levels of society that it’d be impossible to find them all. A part of our resources have been devoted recently to exposing what we can, making connections where they can be found – in essence taking the shadow and bringing it into the light.”

“All covertly, of course,” Andrew picked up on. Her response was a simple shrug.

“There’s plenty of things in heaven and earth that people don’t need to know about – just ask Dr Carter,” she smoothly replied. “For now, we decide what does and does not need to be known about, well, the Other. As the world continues to change, who knows?”

“Look, this is all well and good,” Rick interrupted, “But right now you could tell them you’re a werewolf assassin, your boss is a witch and your tech guy is a fairy – and I don’t think any of the people who have just witnessed the rise of Atlantis would give a shit. Because frankly, none of it helps us with our current situation and you sitting on the side-lines and ‘giving us space’ is only useful if you have genuine information that could help us.”

“Okay, how about this – your boyfriend is possessed,” Drake shot back.

“You what?”

“As I say we have been at this a long time and a knobhead attitude isn’t going to help things, is it?”

“I like you,” Rick admitted.

“Me too,” Sandy agreed.

“Now I’ve gotten the validation I’ve wanted all my adult life, may I continue?” she asked them, drier than the Sahara. They relented. “Some fragments of what you’ve been calling the Temple Builders have survived – a few artefacts here and there, nothing too grand. In fact, one turned out to be an early form of a colostomy bag. And a few, very few, writings.”

“From what we can tell there were several Temples built before the one in London. Four to be precise. Each one ruled over by one of the Dominions.”

“The Dominions?” Andrew was the one to query. “Sounds like a pop group.”

“The Four Dominions, yes,” she agreed, “Each one taking the mastery of their elemental gift – the powers each of you have – to extreme levels. They were worshipped as Gods, all of the people with the elemental powers were as there were so few of them. A simple caste system – us, them and your Dominions at the top.”

“Then came the Flood.”

“That was referenced in the Mosta Temple,” Andrew added, “But it didn’t say what form the Flood took.”

“It’s so beyond Ancient History I don’t think anyone does,” Drake admitted, “The Flood Event wiped them out. Buried their Temples, scattered them and killed off most of the population. We don’t know what happened to the other three – but we do know that Atlas buried himself with his Temple. The survivors of the Flood built the final Temple – the one you found under London and there made the prophecy. The great return. The revelation.”

“And the possession?” Rick asked, “Waiting for the big reveal here, shantay or sashay kind of deal.”

“The body isn’t Atlas’,” she explained, “You know that yourself already. We found a similar ‘pod’ to the one in the Temple at a Builder site in Thebes and before it completely lost its power it began to grow. Disgusting matter that you could barely call flesh but grow it did. Best we figure it’s some kind of incubation chamber – something to speed up the process that your winged friend over there controls.”

“The DNA in the chamber was Ben’s,” Sandy pointed out, “How could they ‘grow’ his DNA?”

“You honestly think that they don’t have everyone’s DNA?” Drake answered, a little paranoid for Rick’s taste – but not particularly wrong, “Every time you go to the doctors, every time you’ve given blood, every fertility clinic that’s out there. Hell you know yourself the number of skin cells sloughed off on every item you touch or sit on – you think they honestly don’t have their own sick little database?”

“Well before you call in Mulder and Scully…” Rick interrupted, “That thing I met last night – sorry guys will fill you in later – it called itself Atlas. Are you saying it is this…Dominion thing has taken over a body grown from Ben’s DNA?”

“You saw inside the grave didn’t you?” she answered, “The body you buried is still there.”

If a moment of anger were about to occur, a moment in which someone lost their temper and snapped with the raging pain of it all – most of them knew who it would be. Or thought they did. The measured way in which Ruth and Sandy both regarded Rick was in that knowing way close friends and closer lovers regarded their companions, known thoroughly and predictable to the end. But Rick wasn’t angry.

Instead, it was Andrew who stormed out at that point.

* * *

Andrew stormed through the door and into the corridor without a plan, he just needed to get away. Feelings, thoughts, the anger he’d buried for days came bubbling to the surfaces as things were calmly discussed in the other room.

“Where the bloody hell do you think you’re going?” Rick’s voice came from behind him. Of all the people, of all the bloody people who could have come after him – it had to be him. The murderer.

“Piss off,” he snapped at him.

“Oh, sure, toddler-ing is really what we need right now,” Rick commented. It broke his stride. He turned, seeing Rick just behind him. As the rage boiled up inside him he grabbed the man, slammed him against the wall and held him there – seeing the pained look but not caring. He had lost his hold on control.

“You bastard!” he yelled, spittle flying. “Don’t you dare!”

“What now?” Rick asked him calmly, “Thought you aired all your hatred in that damned Library. What could I have possibly done since to make you hate me more?”

“We could have saved her,” he snapped at him, feeling the sting of tears in his eyes, “You heard in there the crap that’s possible. It might not have been her body, it might have been a possession – that thing playing tricks on us. One of those fucking Dominions – it might...” He began to lose the fire, the anger, in the swell of pain and memory.

“No, we couldn’t,” Rick answered softly, knowing exactly what he meant. “It was her. There wasn’t any trick, no clone – although bugger me I’m hating that word already. She was real, she was her. We loved her and she hated us. She might have turned on a paper moon but she was Janet Frasier through and through. And I killed her for it.”

Andrew couldn’t help it, he was overwhelmed with it – by the damn that had burst and his private flood. He let go, of Rick, of the dam. Tears came, he stumbled.

Despite the pain, he must have felt in his battered shoulder Rick caught him, holding him up.

“I’m sorry.”

He had never heard the words, so simple, so elegantly effective.

“I loved her too, she was my friend,” Rick admitted out loud, “I have to tell myself there was no saving her because otherwise, I have to admit I killed someone I cared about. Because she killed the man I loved. I know you want to cling onto the idea that she was somehow saveable, that she was possessed or she was changed in some way that could have been reversed. Maybe it could. But not in the time we had, not in the moments we lived – and even now there’s no going back. I killed her, there is a black mark on my soul, and I am sorry.”

Rick’s shoulder gave and Andrew fell to his knees, dragging him somewhat down with him. Instead, he let him lean against the wall of the corridor, placing himself down next to him. They sat like that in silence, letting the emotions dissipate. After a long time, Andrew finally found himself speaking.

“I hate you,” he said simply, before adding, “Yet you are one of the people I am closest to in the world. Can you love and hate at the same time?”

“It’s how I feel about Adele.”

Despite himself, he managed a small bark of a laugh.

“Yes, you can feel both at the same time,” Rick finally answered honestly, “Sometimes, quiet times when I’m feeling broody – I flip between feeling both for myself also. We’re built for that you see – to be the melting pot of conflicts, incongruence. Love and hate. Happy and sad. Hope and fury. The reason why War, why Atlas, is so deadly is because he simply is conflict. And conflict exists on every level, a fundamental part of human nature – between multiple nations across the world and right down into our hearts.”

“We will never be able to stop his influence, the brooding conflicts in people’s souls. But what we can do – and what we’re going to do – is kick his sparkly, perfectly formed arse back into the Palaeolithic dark ages where he belongs.”

“Oh, and how do we do that?” Andrew challenged him.

“Well, you stormed out all Grey’s-Anatomy-dramatic before I had a chance to tell my part of the story,” Rick explained, “And there was another motivation behind me getting into a fight with the dick of Atlantis. Did you ever actually bother looking in the utility belt I designed?”