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| Amelia (16,275) | |
| By Tenchi | |
| 27 November 2006 | |
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Well it's finally over. Let me know what you think. I'm going to give it a rest and re-write a straight fantasy piece of mine, but I'll come to this and edit the hell of it after I've had a break. I may write a piece to incorporate it about the trial and tribulations that Prince Carrhne faces during his courtship of Amelia. I intend with the latter addition to have a go at expanding it to a novella size, with less about the feelings of the main protaganists and more background; I may even put Tanis in a troubled relationship, but for now I'm having a break from it. I think it flows a hell of a lot better towards the end and that's either because I've matured as a writer Or that I rushed it. Thank you for anyone who wades through it all and I'd welcome your thoughts and advice as always. Tench (00:50 - 28/11/6) Amelia Prologue Sunlight filters through the window the lancing rays illuminate particles of dust in the antiseptic leaden air. The starkness of the trauma ward resounds with the silence of recovering victims. A gaunt, dark eyed you man propped up in bed staring, gaping vacantly out of the window. His prematurely lined face; empty and dead reflects the comprehensibility of stone. Stitched and sealed slices run from his collarbone to groin level and a drip pumps fluids into his veins. Gawping he notices nothing his mind empty save of those things pertaining to Her. The Nurse comes to bathe him and wipe the rivulets of drool running from his chin to his chest. Normally this raven haired angel of mercy would have stimulated his interest and aroused him, but he does not notice her swaying, willowy walk to the bed or the caressing moist warmth of the flannel. His drugged and shattered body is bereft of all, but a hazy fugue. Her tender ministrations inspire no passion in him and no rising of his member. His self opens only for Amelia… Part One: The Birth of Evil His masturbation rocks the bed too and fro. Hurried gasps expurgate fourth to the empty room in a vain apology despite its ignorance of the solo play before its apathetic eyes. His vaguely muscled frame sweats profusely to his jerking, set high on a cloud of self gratification he grunts as a goblet of pre-cum trickles down his circumcised shaft. Floundering like a landed trout he prepares to climax, pressing his perineum to extend his pleasure. He gets as far as “Ye…” before the doorbell chimes, shattering his cheap slice of heaven and causing him to break rhythm. “Fuck” He curses as he swings his legs from the leather couch. The cheesy muzak of the chime grates on his ears, as he wipes himself with a tissue from the table. Padding across the room to the door he glances at the clock on the mantelpiece. “Eleven Forty Five, Shit.” Gazing through the door’s peephole as the bell sounds again he views his nuisance neighbour, Mrs Jarret from the flat across the hall. She is a sitcom joke of a bored unsatisfied housewife and never ceases to find an excuse to come on to him. In a vain attempt at hearing her scream and flee the scene, he opens the door naked. She gives a slight squeak of surprise and her alcohol sodden red eyes light up. She has an empty tub in her hand and seeing her reaction he muses that she may well want more than some sugar. His shock tactics a failure he says: “I was asleep Mrs Jarret” “I’m so sorry to bother you Tanis, I merely wished to see if you had any ice?” Before he can say no she carries on in a hopeful tone. “You see my freezer has broken down and Mr Jarret is away on business for the weekend…” “Sure, come on in” He beckons her through the door stepping back as he does so, so as not to give her the option of squeezing past him. As they enter the living room, he puts on a robe and offers her a seat. Whilst he’s in the kitchen she mumbles inanities at him something about a residents meeting. Opening the fridge he gets out a tray of ice cubes and taking them through to her he picks up a packet of cigarettes. Lighting a Marlboro and drawing deeply, he remembers his manners and offers his unexpected guest one. She husks a yes please and reaches forward to take the proffered cigarette. As she does so her top slips revealing a hint of nipple. Feeling himself stiffen slightly, he wonders if he might be up for some fun, but picturing the morning after he decides against it. Her smudgy make up mask smiles at him and her hands linger lightly on the cigarette: “Perhaps you would like to come over for a nightcap?” “Attractive though your offer is, I must decline as I’ve really got to get on with some things and get up early for work tomorrow” Managing to mask her disappointment about as well as a puppy that’s just been kicked, she smiles slightly and says: “Oh well, maybe some other time then?” Recognising her loneliness and understanding it well, he stubs out his cigarette and gently takes her hand. He kisses it and leads her to the door in silence. At the door he shrugs and bids her a goodnight. Closing the door and leaning back against it, he sighs, his thoughts a mixture of relief and sympathy. His plans for the night abandoned, Tanis goes to bed and tries not to think too much. Akullus surveys his study from his bulky leather-padded mahogany chair. The desk he sits behind seems to dwarf him with its dark oak and work stained surface a looming presence. He is without doubt the most powerful mage on Carallus and usually he revels in such power with great pleasure. The books which line the walls are embossed on the spines with runes or warding, promising much grief to any unwanted reader. The meanings and magiks held within these grimoires are perhaps unknown to all save he and he has amassed the required knowledge not only to understand their contents, but to also add to them, for he has written many of them. Tanis’ sleep is cluttered with a strangers dream. His sleep is so deep that he’s not aware of the strange and eldritch incursion into his psyche. So deep is his slumber that his subconscious mind can only whimper; “Who are you?” This unanswered question will rebound unknowingly around the strained hull of his mind until he wakes and when he wakes he will remember nothing save a night of rough sleep for no reason. The higher state of understanding possessed by Akullus is envied by many of his peers, but he is merciful and understanding of their folly. They do not understand that it is only through many years of strict discipline and most of all the denial of pleasure in the pursuit of knowledge that he has gained his rewards. Usually he is proud and rightly content in his achievements, but of late he has (albeit against his own choice) allowed himself to be distracted by secular matters, that he would usually consider far below his attentions. A barrier has come between his enjoyment of his mystic powers and manipulation of occult lore. Wishing to see himself he stands and pushing back his chair he walks over to his mirrored wall, what he sees there neither pleases, nor disappoints him, long ago given up on personal vanity as a necessary sacrifice. His fine, but careworn features, framed by long straight, prematurely greyed hair. For thirty years now he has cared not for the face which scrutinises him back. His patrician nose and aquiline jaw once may have belonged to a warrior, a poet or a prince, but now they all too clearly show the toll paid by his body for his power. The forced fasts, the long hours of indoor study away from the sun and the privations of cold and solitary nights and days spent in the necessary preparation and attention to esoteric minutiae. There are no visible lights in the room as it is light by means of Akullus’ concentration, the light starts to fade as he rubs the bridge of his nose as if to rub away his spirits burdens. After what seems like an eternity, the long hours of self hypnosis and mental discipline pay off. He focuses his mind and considers. Barely a straightening of his shoulders and a slight clench of the jaw, belie the inward decision he has made, only his piercing eyes show a drive and focus, with regards to a decision reached. Set upon his chosen course of action, his mind loosens its bonds slightly as he walks back to his desk and sits down. In a poise of attention he studies karma charts on his left and without having to use writing implements or instruments of calculation, he runs through the geometric calculations required for the up and coming spell casting. After a while he stands and moves to a low stool in the corner of the room. Sitting with a straight back he starts to regulate his breathing and heartbeat. From his lap he moves his palms to a position of prayer and starts to mumble incantations under his breath. After a set number of repetitions he varies the inflection of the syllables slightly and increases the volume almost imperceptibly. After a matter of minutes glowing motes start to appear around him swirling like fireflies on a hot summer evening. They seem to dance and come to gather in a softly glowing mass around him. Without altering his heartbeat or breathing rate Akullus gestures slowly with his hands, palms out in almost a placatory manner. The motes of starlight start to emit a high keening. As sweat starts to bead on his brow Akullus beckons to the lights and draws his hands back to his chest. He knows that one wrong inflection or one sudden move and that the invisible sprites he has summoned to fill him with manna, will start to draw glowing motes from his life force and drain him till he is nothing but a withered husk. Steadily the lights flow into his chest as he draws them in, miming the shape of a ball with his hands. He ignores the ecstasy of being filled with the power, as per his many decades of intensive training. Finally when he is filled with an almost unsustainable amount of manna, he reverses the chant, actions and inflection of his occult orchestrations and the sprites and their cargo disperse. Holding strong with the walls of his will, he resists the urge to start spell casting immediately and revel in his gathered power. He reminds himself of his purpose and forces thoughts of instant gratification aside. The spells which he intends to cast are run of the mill to this perhaps the greatest magi who have ever lived, but even though he is fully practiced and prepared for what is to come his concentration is a steel cage locking any distractions outside. Standing and walking to his mirror he starts to motion with his hands, murmuring softly as he makes waving motions before him. As his hands trace the air over the mirror it begins to bend and flow like mercury. As he finishes his chant the surface flashed liquidly like molten sheet lightening. Tanis’ sleep is fitful now and there are many times when his unconscious fears almost drag him awake, but his unconscious survival instincts demand he sleep, their unrecognised hands pinning him to ignorant slumber. Amelia’s eyes shine in to those of her lover, to adoring sapphire orbs, lit my care and love. The last three months have been the happiest of her 25 years. A pampered princess, with the pick of her fathers’’ kingdom, she has thus far spurned the advances of a hundred suitors. Stubborn and wilful as only a Princess can be she has reluctantly disappointed her father at every introduction and rebuffed his attempts at pairing her off with a view to obtaining the required royal heir. None would have dared refuse her, nor would they wish for, for it is proclaimed far and wide as truth that there exists no fairer jewel in the royal treasury and no more beautiful sun in the sky across the continent of Lethragos, or the world of Carallus. Amelia has long been afraid that her father, Tanthas the third, lord emperor of Carallus, may have been correct in his fears for his indulged daughter and that she would be a barren old spinster before accepting a worthy suitor (or more accurately to her mind a stud for the royal heir). Now, as if disbelieving her own joy, she gazes at the one she has waited for all this time. Prince Carrhne of the Eastern continent of Patheria; he is all she has ever longed for and despite the trials and tribulations she threw at him in his courtship, she had known from the moment he first raised his eyes to meet hers that he would be her chosen one. He is witty, handsome and strong, but she has seen beneath his exterior to the true man within. Despite his looks and exploits he is modest, despite his strength he can be tender and despite his wit she can make him stumble over his words oft times. He is most importantly no royal pampered whelp; he is from a warrior culture and hardy. He rules a kingdom far too the East and has had to fight to maintain his grip on the throne, yet despite this she knows hi to be kind and fair, with no love of war or national expansion; traits all to common in those who wield power. Most importantly of all to her is the fact that he loves her and she sees in him and man who wishes for her heart and not her inheritance. The kingdom of Carallus will soon gain its long awaited heir and all will rejoice along with her. Akullus’ deep set eyes are burning with lava flow hatred. This hammy oaf is nowhere near the standard of the future Queen. Always before she has seen through these regal rats for the scurrilous vermin they really are. “He loves me” She had said with a smile “And that is enough is it?” He’d replied neutrally. “He’s passed all the tests I and my father set before him, he has fought and won for the right to my hand Akullus. And despite his strength I have found him to be uncommonly kind and gracious” He had smiled then, masking the surprising level of nausea within. He had murmured pleasantries, whilst all awhile his knotted guts had forced a plan to form in the shadowy places of his mind. In the weeks following her acceptance of the betrothal, chinks had formed in his armour. Akullus had mistakenly tried again to convince Amelia of this, this fools unsuitability and when he’d spoken all too bitterly of Carrhnes’ flaws, he’d paid for his clarity of insight and sound advice, by being ordered from her presence. Now, whilst facing the view screen, he in his strength and wisdom is ready to do what is necessary and best for his Princess no matter what the cost. The unseen glaring cabalist sees this craven knavish pretender for what he is and that may well be the downfall of the kingdom he has sworn to protect. Carrhne is no where near her equal, for her standards must be those of a goddess, remote and untouchable. Amelia is innocent in her passion and with dilated eyes; her slim, lithe body embraces Prince Carrhne. She can feel his sculpted chest, hard and masculine pressed against her perky ample breasts. As he reaches up to grab her hair and draw her head back, so as he can kiss her throat tenderly, his hips press against hers and she moans with repressed passion. Her eager, soft lips explore his face and their mouths meet, melding and probing deeply. As their private play continues, their unseen voyeur trembles with rage. His fists clenched, knuckles white; Akullus deep in a dark place knows that he has loved her since birth and knows that he will love her past death. This dandy before him lavished with affection that he has no right to whatsoever, is no where near Amelia’s level of intellect. Her studies with Akullus have been forgotten for months now and she; who was once his best and greatest prodigy now throws away her chance at true greatness, fumbles with a toff. Insane with months of pent up envy Akullus reaches for an ash blackened skull, set on a table to the right of his mirror. He hefts it to his right hand and with his left he traces his fingers over its sooty dome. Uttering and muttering incantations so forgotten, that they have not been hear aloud for aeons he declares deepest darkness. Focussing his internalised rage, hatred and indignation into his left hand he starts to screech a low keening. Without pausing in his song he lights a brazier to his left with a quick stabbing action of the skull. An acrid, purple and pungent smoke fills the air, its herbaceous scent assailing his senses, widening them to the hitherto unavailable perceptions to his arcane mind. Lowering the pitch of his screech, he starts a separate spell ready to transport him from the scene of his crime to be, so that he may have an alibi standing ready. Carrying on with the two spells running in tandem and splitting his concentration appropriately, he places his index fingers into the eye sockets of the skull as far as possible. He grimaces as he draws from this well of death, for to transpose the pain elsewhere he must hold on to it first. The sensation is akin to a set of heated barbed hooks, threaded with nettles stabbing into his hands nerve endings. Raising the skull towards the viewer, his mouth widens to a snarl as he draws his burning fingers out and with gritted teeth clenches his fists. Tanis struggles now, wakefulness evading his body only barely. The pain his mind remembers, causing a near, but not quite reaction in his corporeal form. Consciousness of the events unfolding within his mind could well bring madness to any one holding such events. His subconscious grins through gritted teeth its jaws tense enough to snap iron. Focussing the stream of power down his middle digits the Arch mage gestures with a jabbing motion at Carrhne and Akullus suppresses with a growl the urge to clench his fists as the pain flows out from his fingertips. As the power leaves him he is filled with the ecstasy of his magic and ending the first spell he takes a breath of shuddering satisfaction. Prince Carrhne pulls his lips from the warm embrace of his lovers. “What is it? She asks, fearful that in her inexperience she has done something to displease. “No…” he starts to say as suddenly his eyes explode in gelatinous agony. Frozen Amelia can only stare in horror at the grey matter pouring in a hissing batter like consistency from the ruin of her beloveds face. Prince Carrhnes mouth is agape in a scream that will never have a voice. Amelia’s scream, however; echoes around the whole of the palatial and grandiose setting of their tryst. The hideous high sound of raw shock tails into a hoarse keening as if her soul can no longer give voice to the terror she has witnessed. Her fine boned porcelain features, freeze for a second as her tears mingle with the spattered gore now decorating her face. For aeon long seconds her mind cannot accept the reality affronting her, in her denial her jaw hangs slack and it is only the taste of the tear mingled offal that brings her back into the moment. Retching the foulness from her, she starts to crumple as wracking sobs course through her frame. She catches herself on the side of the divan and prevents herself from falling; just. Then with a visible effort she pulls herself together and drags herself to a sitting position and puts her head in her hands. Forcing her gaze round to her prince’s mangled head; she reaches a natural conclusion and starts to murmur under her breath. Soon, she receives confirmation from her conjured minions that the attack was indeed from a magical source. Uttering a low keen Amelia starts her spell. From the mirror, Akullus can see the minions summoned by Amelia. Guessing their message to her he starts to back away from the portal, his second spell still repeating through his lips. As he nears its completion, Amelia’s bloody features emerge from the viewer like a beautiful keening banshee emerging from a still lake of quicksilver. His underestimation of her own skills becomes more and more apparent as her upper torso arrives. Her face a mask of grief and rage she cries: “What have you done?” Still backing away Akullus almost finishes the spell with a penultimate word and readies himself to escape. “Only that which was right for the kingdom and you my precious” He states She lets fly with a string of curses and screams that he can hardly believe her capable of. Forgetting her power Amelia rages at his flinging her fists towards his face. He barely manages to catch her wrists and struggles as his wiry emaciated frame struggles to contain this lithe avenger before him berserk with the power of her rage and sorrow. “He would have ruined you; he was no where near your equal” He frets “We were in love; you black hearted monster, we were so happy” She rails at him. His mind a mass of fear; a thought flashes through his brain that it could be he prophesy was self fulfilling and that it is his love that will doom Carallus and ultimately himself. He doubts that a being as wise and powerful as he would be fooled by such a prophecy though. He watches his delicious obsession as her delicate bone white hands, smooth and supple break through his guard and lock around his windpipe. Through the blood rimmed haze induced by the life starved from his lungs he views his charts in the now still mirror. Managing to swing Amelia around he tries to focus on them, but they seem very far away. As his mind starts to drift he recalls the words of one of his first Magic scholars: “When our venerable ancestors first experimented in dimensional jumps, they came across a realm very similar to ours named ‘Urth’. However, they had no magical knowledge and they rebuffed our attempts at our teaching them the secrets. They called us witches and revelling in their ignorance they burned us calling it a cleansing. Added to our persecution they found that their presence there caused untold havocs with the natural laws of both here and there. It seems that there is some spiritual or karmic link between the inhabitants there and us. Because of the areas where these links occurred certain members of those early explorers were made to stay as their consciousness was sucked in to the bodies of compatible karmic relatives. Because there was no way to mask the magic required to bring them back and those unfortunate trapped selves were persecuted by the suspicious natives as demons, our forefathers had to leave certain of their party trapped there forever.” His thoughts abruptly return to the present as he realises he can breathe again. As his eyes bring to bear on Amelia her eyes bore back through him in their malice. Briefly collected now he steps back a number of paces and listens as the realisation dawns on him; she will never be his now and he was a fool not to understand. Under his breath , through his sore and bruised larynx he utters the final word to his incantation. He feels the invisible gate warp unto his body and forcing himself to gaze at her for the last time he fights its pull. As he struggles he feels pain rake through his very soul, ignoring it he realises that Amelia has started a spell of her own. He recognises the evil nature of the sounds, but recognition eludes him for the moment. He pales even further as he starts to glean their meaning. The pledge spell she is reciting is evil incarnate, guttural and loathsome, predating man itself; the growling, raw throated vileness spilling from her shredded core sends ice through his veins. The vengeance she has avowed to undertake has been sealed by her blood and hatred. The pact with the darkest forces in the universe will sustain her in her quest, but at the cost of her sanity and very soul. The tribute she will have to pay at the conclusion or failure to conclude her vengeance will be tortuously exacted in slavery and eternal darkness. As she finishes screeching triumphantly, blood fountains from her mouth and the icy curtain of pitch dark descends on the room. He feels the evils tendrils extend towards him, they are everywhere in every pore of the air and every recess of space. He fights the interference with his dimensional hop, as he strives to stop his spirit from separating from his body. Suddenly he is wrenched asunder as the fabric of reality tears around him and the smell of sulphur fills the air. He can barely make out Amelia’s stricken face, stretched in a grimace of pain filled malice and way, way beyond driven. Drool drips from her once rosebud mouth and an unbidden sob leaves him. Desperately he gives one last urgent struggle and then lets go. As he falls back through the door to another place, he views Amelia collapse and a mass of blackness like the devils own shadow starts to emanate from beneath her. “Doomed!” He wails. Part Two: Identity Crisis As the being of Akullus morphs through time and space, he fights the pull of corporeal disassembly. Struggling to banish the pain from his mind and stave off the mental effects of the recent ruckus, he applies every atom of his will to keeping his spirit and its residence together. Amelia’s spell affects him even between dimensions and its subtle tampering with his concentration seems almost near to destroying him. Many years of discipline kick in and foolishly, despite his training he momentarily relaxes causing something like a split atom to flash within him. Akullus fragments in a phosphorus ball of blinding light. The despicable fury of Amelia’s newly bribed allies abates into a waiting, mocking silence. His body flies elsewhere its composite pats staying together through habit and stubborn DNA. His mind and spirit spin like a spherical ying-yang symbol, their confusion at being torn from their housing, screaming out to the surrounding cosmos. The panicking mental object that remains of Akullus searches frantically for the nearest appropriate place to find safe harbour and following a trail it can sense but not see, streaks down to Earth like a fearful comet. On the backward (by galactic standards) planet of Bate Aintree, somewhere near the edge of imagination. Akullus’ body appears on a remote grassy knoll. Because of the different time frame it has brought with it, it breathes only once a day. The strange squat inhabitants peer curiously at it, wondering what to do. It breaths normally to itself, but has no conscious ness to motivate it and thus it sits, recognising nothing and causes harm to no-one. Tanis awakes with a jolting motion and sits bolt upright in bed. His heart is thumping against the roof of his mouth; for a reason he cannot remember. With sweat pouring from every pore he fights to suppress an inexplicable madness welling up within him. Something flickers within the back of his mind and dies off as he tries to divine its meaning. The night’s activities find no hold on his memory and his subconscious knows enough to prevent his waking mind from making too hard an attempt to recall it. He tries to shrug off the leaden sense of hopelessness that pervades in him this morning and he shakes his head confused at his own bewilderment. He pushes himself to accept this current frame of mind as the result of a rough nights sleep and disentangles his clammy appendices from him damp sheets. As he stands he cannot prevent an unexplainable tremor passing through him. There is even more self doubt as a sob threatens to escape for no apparent reason. Frantically and with darting eyes he makes a bee line for the bathroom, to splash cold water on his face. Bringing his taut nerves to reluctant heel he shakes continues to splash water over himself; the everyday motions bringing a modicum of calm. Feeling the cloak of the night’s inexplicable troubles slide from his shoulders he straightens up and stretches his hands to the ceiling, exhaling as he does so. Avoiding the mirror he forgoes his usual morning shave and steps into the shower, with a keen step eager for its freshening cleansing properties. Standing under the shower enjoying its warm misty embrace he starts to feel much more in control of himself. He starts to hum some classic soul and breaks into full throated song when he comes to the bits he knows. Stepping out and drying off he muses over his bathroom a reflection of his usual persona it is neat and well ordered, compact and dazzlingly clean. Dry, he steps forward and opens the blinds fully; he basks for a moment in the morning sunlight, which even though filtered through the frosted glass; feels great on his naked, talcum powdered skin. Like a coked up Seraphim, he stands glorying in the feel of his health and clean wellbeing. Reaching for his monogrammed dressing gown, the raised initials ‘T.R.’ stand out with their black vase on purple satin. Shrugging into the garment, he ponders on his parents’ choice of name and what possessed them at the time of choosing, Wicca and LSD he surmises. His parents had lived in a flat above their own shop in Camden town. The shop with the rather grandiose name of ‘The Emperion’ hanging over its door, had flourished for years now despite the doubts and protestations of close family and friends, when they had decided to sell up and move in to such a niche market at start up. However, his mum and dad, ever the brains in the family had been true believers in more than just the religion they practiced. Shrewd was their decision to begin trading as they new that due to the nature of their merchandise and its short supply, they would in short be quids in. Upon walking in to the shop it seemed to their son (before the innocence of youth made way for the world worn cynicism of early adolescence) that it was like entering another world. The smell of incense assailing the nostrils and the hours of boundless excitement exploring through the curious, trinkets and miscellaneous objects, loaded on to the shelves which lined the walls, always seemed so much more exciting than films, video games or playing out to young Tanis. Inscribed totems and hangings of outré origins bedecked the shop’s unshelved walls; seemingly giving portions of the atmosphere a strange and eldritch feel. Sometimes the muted hubbub of crammed people commenting and conversing in the aisles and around corners often gave the shop a curiously reverent feel. At the end of each day there he would be in the arms of his mother or father. Benevolent and smiling as they always seemed to be in those days before the crash, now, how he misses their beautiful presence. Simon and Margaret Route, he has fond memories them at the summer solstice celebrations and the feasts at Stone Henge. Days of sun, rain and parties, with smiling and (if truth be told) high hippy people, all talking, dancing and performing; whilst amongst them all he played safely looked after by his parents extending network of friends and family. Shaking himself free of these pleasing remembrances he dresses urgently, lest he be late for work. Donning hat and coat he marches with a measured tread to the lift and descends downwards and out to the waiting world below. Working at the office has always made him content. He works hard at trading stocks and shares, even though he is held in disdain by many jealous investment brokers, because of his ’far out’ methods, he is respected because whatever his methods he obtains results. Despite his education and training he learnt early on that whatever the method, you have to have a gimmick with some of the more eccentric clients, being self made and therefore slightly more acceptable to taking well informed risks. After a happy and almost hallowed month long induction into one of London’s most respectable leading Investment companies, he set about to prove himself in no uncertain terms. Tanis has a system developed after a complex trial and error period, where he fuses elements of mathematical probability, statistical analysis and esoteric fortune telling techniques such as Enochian chess, tarot, and astrology and merit/karma assessments. After a moth of using the system, they had awarded him a year’s tenure and after three years with the firm he is regularly amply rewarded for his efforts. He knows that he does not truly believe in any of the mystical elements of his system, but having found a workable angle he knows enough to thank his own lucky stars for his good fortune and success. It has turned out to be a hit with the right people and it has worked as well as any other trading tactic. His day is going well as he sits in his private office and observes his computer monitors, every so often punching the keys that can make or save people millions. The night’s tumult is forgotten as his buzzes through his intercom to his secretary and orders out for a latte. On the crowded tube home the emmets scuttle ceaselessly in whatever space they can find in the hot, bunched, ignorant loneliness of the train. Grasping the overhead handle Tanis, hums under his breath shutting out the rudeness surrounding him and tries to keep still and calm. Despite the usual success of this oft repeated method, his head begins to spin in a sensation akin to vertigo. Closing his eyes he finds reassurance in the usual way of imagining his ex whom he nicknamed ‘Ophelia’ (for her madness). He opens his eyes at the next stop and realises that his off spell must have been noticed by the surrounding passengers, for their eyes show suspicion and they have moved away from him as far as the confines of the tube allow. Their cold dispassionate eyes hem him in; their self focussed predatory instincts showing in their bearing. Avoiding their manners he thinks of his next planned 5 star cruise of the Caribbean, but even that cannot alleviate the sense of fear clenching at the nauseous pit in the hollow of his stomach. As people file off and on of the train a feeling like a cooling hand on his fevered brow seems to move towards him. Lifting his head a radiant aura seems to embrace him and he basks in it’s consolation like the hand of God washing away the grime of the moments before. Looking across to his left he barely believes his own senses, which are kneeling in awe at the vision of female perfection moving slowly through the throng of commuter monkeys towards his stricken form. Her eyes alone bombard him with such a wealth of positivity that his body is agog and cannot motivate itself to any probable response. There seems to be some internal conflict at the sight of this woman, but almost as if bewitched he cannot pay it any heed so comfortably numbed is he by her presence. Akullus senses Amelia’s approach and mentally screams, wishing he could give physical voice to his fear. Pleading for an iota of control over his meat based prison so that he can force it to retreat in terror from the horror before him. He has understood little since his arrival in this man’s shell but in the hours he has resided here he has just about managed to resettle his tenuous grasp on sanity by trying to figure out the mechanics behind what has happened. Now he can feel her cold ghastly grab reaching for his soul; its frosty fingers following his fears and drinking them in with delight, as across the way Amelia stands cackling with glee. The toll she has paid for her devilish allies is a grievous one indeed. These daemon filth have reaved all that was pure in the once astonishingly acute beauty of Amelia and they have raped her of even the most basic considerations of her humanity. Her body is a ravaged husk warped by time and space; the once luminescent locks now drip with an ichor so vile, his soul drowns itself in tears it cannot shed. She has spanned many a generation and other dimensions searching for her prey, driven onwards by her pledge and her puppet masters, when any solely human kind would have quit after only fifty years. No eyes of utopian blue bless her sockets any more; cess pits of rotten malevolence sit there now, radiating a molten obsessive hatred toward his dimensional relative. The worst thing of all however, is the superimposition of her old self hazing over and around this vomit inspiring harridan. It is a heart wrenching parody of the thing he once thought he loved most in the ord. His one slim hope of escape is if he can gain control of this automaton fool. As Amelia’s shrieking comes nearer the futility of his struggle becomes more obvious. Amelia savours the aromatic sourness of the mages fear and Tanis’ adoration. For millennia now both past and future she has strived for Akullus. She had realised upon finding his spiritually vacant body on Bate Aintree that he had undergone a separation of body and soul. She had tested his inert form and finding him no longer there had shrieked her rage to the skies. Without knowing that the dark forces she is in league with could have told her at the start but they are exacting their tribute in feeding her anguish and hatred. She has no idea that he has only been on Urth for a day, but she would not let this interfere with her plans for him even should she know. Reigning in her thoughts of wanton and instantaneous revenge she steadies herself and begins to enjoy her slow approach to the young man whom Akullus inhabits. She is so magnificent this angel, with her flowing semi translucent hair and soft lithe body. Both fair and fit, her calming aqueous eyes draw him in towards her. Her smile says that she wants him and fills him with love that fair near overflows his heart. He can feel the eyes of the male commuter wolf pack around him waiting to move in for the kill, hungry for this tender morsel foolish enough to stray in to their lair. He jerks forward tripping over an aged ladies knees and lands on his face. The pain explodes as does his nose, but he must have this woman. He must hold her and love her and make her his own. She is mouthing something to him; ‘A’ then an ‘M’. Laughing despite the tissue he presses to his nose. He sighs, “Amy?” Shaking her head she blows him a kiss and starts to almost drift backwards. As she reaches the far door he stumbles through the throng of the tube ignoring the angry mutterings of those he has to move. She appears to be phasing in and out of the air now and this quite understandably starts to worry him at the thought that one, his eyes may be playing tricks on him and two, that she may leave. As if a silken thread of sound has wound its way through his ears, the voice of his newly beloved utters “Soon, my sweet.” Her velvet tones send a wave of pleasure through him. Charming his psyche into understanding that no matter what happens, no matter where he or she goes or whatever they do, she will never leave him and always love him. The euphoria brought about by this strange interlude is like no other he has experienced. No drug, wine or love has ever brought him to such a place or time. He shudders in anticipation of future encounters, oblivious to the curious, mocking and some fearful gazes of his fellow passengers. Silent and bringing his concentration to bear he manages to make the journey home without bursting into joyful praise of his discovered love. Upon stumbling through the flat door dishevelled and trembling, he runs into the bathroom and turns on the taps. He fills his basin to the brim with crystal clear cool water and presses his face under. He is unsure exactly what happened to him on the journey home, but he suspects he had some form of fit brought on by the claustrophobic and mean spirited atmosphere of his commute. His nose is not in such a bad shape as it feels; he must have turned his head at the moment of impact as his right cheek seems to have bared most of the brunt. He allows the pain of the cool water to move into numbness and vows to make a doctors appointment to get his brain looked at. The experience has left him not without a few doubts about his state of mind. Checking his reflection in the mirror his features stare back at him with almost the scrutiny of a total stranger. Turning away to get gauze from his medicine cabinet, he shakes his head free of her paranoia. “I got ill that’s all”, he tells himself, “Maybe its work worries only. I took a turn on the tube and in my confusion I imagined that girl. Maybe I saw someone and my state of mind interfered?” Despite his resurgence of rational thought he is fast succumbing to the mental and physical fatigue experienced throughout the day. The late afternoon’s seismic exertions cause him to slouch into the front room and sit back in an armchair. Within moments he passes out cold. Whilst Tanis sleeps, Akullus orchestrates certain changes in his physiology, bolstering his immune system and acceleration the healing process of his injuries. He does it out of no sense of pity but merely because on a certain level he can feel Tanis’ injuries and does not want to. As the bruises heal and the cartilage mends, Akullus takes advantage of Tanis’ relaxed state to insinuate a bit of control into Tanis’ mind. Hope endures for the first time in an age and Akullus spiritually breathes a sigh of relief. As he relaxes he finds the body do likewise. IT takes a gargantuan effort not to open Tanis’ eyes knowing that if he does so Tanis will wake and resume control. Akullus is sure that upon waking and seeing the repairs wrought on him that Tanis’ will slide even further down the slope to madness. He needs a complete mental breakdown of the host to accomplish a full takeover. His hope renews as he knows that for Amelia to reach him, she must shatter this man completely. It is a gamble but when this happens he will take control and once more flee if given time. Akullus gently probes Tanis’ dreams and his jealousy flows unchecked for a second. Amelia whilst once untainted is now too far gone to release, but a portion of him cannot help thinking back to happier days. He shakes his head at his underestimation of her powers and his own emotion induced sloppiness. Suddenly through Tanis’ senses he feels a shift in the rooms’ temperature; gently he draws upon Tanis’ hormones to acclimatise the body and prevent him from waking. “How are we today, my sweet?” echo Amelia’s sepulchral tones. “Mmmmm I do prefer this body to your old one” Mentally he forces out “I’m so sorry, so, so sorry.” It is all he can do to repeat it over and over again like some pitiful warding mantra. He knows he could never do enough and she is doing similar to he were he in her position. She ignores him anyway. “It’s so much more muscular and sweet…” she purrs. Over the repetitious please for mercy and forgiveness she finally answers him. “I do not care any more. I have forgotten what love ever meant. It’s is merely an instrument which I can use on people like you and your vessel to inflict suffering. All I think of now is your hatred and loathing for what once made me feel real for the first time in my existence. I have taken all I ever felt and all you ever did to me and I have merged it with my magic. I have used it to fuel me through a journey you cannot imagine. I have searched for aeons for you and in those times I have learned things you cannot heed or comprehend” She continues to spit out words like poisonous barbs which shred his heart like rusty lathes. He starts to protest her vile presence but they merely glance from her unheeded. “I should like to tell you it will all be over soon and that this long night will end my once though true friend, but it won’t you see? You are my only obsession now. I suppose I lied earlier when I said I have forgotten what love is. I do love; I love to loathe only you. You are so clever, even now I can sense you struggling to maintain this mans little slice of death and yet I must tell you that your hopes for escape are very much in vain. I will never be allowed by my dark lord and masters to shatter this mans mind to the point where you can escape. This man shares the same great core of strength that you do, his nearest and closest dimensional relative. Your torture will span millennia and it will be explicitly exquisite and yes, it will hurt, lots and lots and lots” Akullus screams and Amelia’s mirthless, almost metallic laughter rebound through Tanis’ now fitful sleep. As Akullus’ fear increases his hold on Tanis depletes and the walls of his uncontrollable penitentiary slam down around him. Taking advantage of his loss of control, Amelia’s glamour orchestrates havoc in Tanis’ mind; rationality tries to take a hold in Tanis’ subconscious, but with seeming nonchalance the power of magik rejects it’s beckoning. “You will love me…” It insists. “To deny me in to your heart will pave the steps to anguish and pain; let me show you my love….” Tanis’ head slips further in to the chairs rest. He dreams of drifting out on seas of oblivion in search for no comforts other than hers. He does not want to think any more, only to lay sake in the knowledge she is here in the arms of his mind, his soul mate forever. “Although you will love only me, I will appear to you in many guises” It whispers subtly. “You will not understand but you will feel me. You will want to love me. You will know when the moment is right…” Tanis cricks his neck as he sits up in his chair and stretches upwards to set himself up for the day ahead. There is a slight chill to the room and he seems to have a flimsy memory of something happening during the night. Touching his cheek and nose he finds them slightly tight, but surprisingly not bruised and not tender. He recalls the girl on the tube and starts to feel randy and uplifted. An unheard voice tells him that she said she’s call him tonight and he glances at the clock willing time to pass faster. He wishes she’s been more specific, but knowing her genuine feelings for him there is nothing for him to be put out about. He cracks his knuckles and decides to call in to work and take the day off. His need for some companionship had been on his mind quite a lot lately as Pamela and her five friends are losing their charm of convenience. The confusion of yesterday has misted out into a fog of unsettled angst and he stands up and starts to pace the room to an fro. The doorbell from hell furthers his annoyance and without bothering to check the peephole he opens the door. True to form it is Mrs. Jarret, only not rue to form, the sight of her takes his breath away. Her dressing gown clings around her like the gently questing hands of a lover and she looks both confident and radiant. Her toothpaste commercial smile flickers briefly as her tongue nervously moistens her lips. “I’ve just made a little breakfast for myself and because I’m used to Mr. Jarret being her … well it’s not so little so I wondered whether you’d like to join me?” His mind agog he manages, “Join you to what?” Her lilting laugh answers him and flirting she replies: “Oh Mr Route, you’re so cheeky” “I’d be very grateful for a little bite” He blurts “I’m sure you would.” The trapped form of Akullus can do nothing, he senses Amelia’s beguiling of Tanis’ senses and shudders. What he sees before him cannot be what his host sees. The curlers, the smudged cheap looking lipstick and the nicotine stained teeth do nothing for him personally and he can not see any one with his relatives’ looks settling for such a dowdy and so clearly ruined creature. A powerless passenger he can only ride along and hope that Amelia takes longer to make her move than he fears. As Tanis follows the supple walk of Mrs Jarret through her doorway he notes the tight curves of her deliciously, delectable hind quarters. All thought of the woman he met yesterday are banished as she seems more and more to resemble the vision he had on yesterday’s train journey. Rosanna cannot believe her luck, for months now she has attempted to entice this young man in to her bed and now although it seems likely to happen, she is momentarily doubtful. Although her husband is a brute and a real snarler of a man she is not usually fickle, nor did she intend to take her vows so lightly and despite his insolent silences and self prolonged absences from her, she has tried to be a good wife. He started to neglect those areas which she wanted him to pay attention to most and their bedroom routine became just that; a thoughtless and regular routine of sweaty grunts culminating in a swift hug and a perfunctory good night. That is when she realised he was having an affair or possibly having more than one. How was she to know? His fake Victorian values leading him to expect her to keep a faithful vigil like a docile sheepdog. The lonely pain sometimes still knots her stomach most nights, but she’s certain that Tanis has something that may help untie it. Knowing that Mr Jarret will be at his office by now and up to his neck in whatever it is he does she shrugs off her doubts and gets more into the moment, treasuring the thought of finally getting some good sex. “From the look of his face he’ll attack breakfast that’s for sure” she muses and makes a mental note to make more of an effort if there’s going to be a next time. Relaxing she leads him through the living room to her dining area. It is extremely clean and tidy which testifies to her spouses’ general ineptness at staying with her for any great length of time. The table is a light ash and is draped in a champagne cloth. A breakfast table of strawberries, cream and cereal awaits them as they sit opposite one another and start to eat. They talk of inconsequential matters knowing that any conversation is just a meaningless prelude to the desert they both have to wait for. At some point during the meal Rosanna stands up draws the blinds and picking up a remote she starts chamber music playing softly from the rooms’ corners. Picking up her cigarettes and lighter she lights a silver candelabra in the centre of the table as she sits. A glorious tiara of buttercup light flickers across her face as the candles shed a warmth felt more by the heart than the skin. He cannot believe he has never seen Mrs Jarret in such a way before and regrets his lack of vision. The silver candlesticks he cannot help but note are real silver and the speakers in the rooms’ corners appear to be state of the art. He has never before considered that Mrs Jarret was so well off, this added bonus pleases him and he smiles. Noticing, Mrs Jarret queries its origins. “I’m thinking that yesterday was a very confusing day for me Rosanna and yet, this morning, here now, with you looking so lovely. I can’t remember why” Blushing Mrs Jarret rises and walks to the kitchen. Hearing the fridge open Tanis is asked to sit in the living room and presented with a bottle of champagne and a corkscrew. As he pours the bubbly into the provided flutes, Tanis glances at Rosanna tracing her body with his eyes as she lights the fireplace and brings a chair closer to him. They sip the crystal wine and after some idol chatter and thinly veiled sexual references. They drink more and go through the usual social habits knowing that soon whatever is said will be forgotten. The moment comes and their mouths meet one another; there is little feigned romance as they both know instinctively what each other wants from this encounter. Grasping the sides of his head roughly she says how much she wants him. He pulls her back towards him and they continue to all but devour one another. She reaches down and tugs at his robes belt. Reaching inside she pulls out his hot prick. He moans as she kisses him roughly and squeezes him with her hand. As she squeezes she accidentally nips at his lower lip which starts to bleed slightly. Neither of them really notices, so caught up in their passion. He opens her robe and his right hand quests downwards to the moist heat of her silk underpants. He firmly pushes his hand against the nub of her sex and starts to massage it with the heel of his palm, whilst rippling his fingers like a wave. She disrobes him with astonishing rapidity and tears off her own robe with an animal passion, all the while rubbing and tasting and grabbing with whichever hand she has free. With heavy breath he cups a smooth lily-white sumptuous breast and he moves his head towards the dark areola of her nipples. His tongue begins to flicker as they harden. “Don’t waste it baby” She husks as she takes his head and places it betwixt her thighs. He breathes in her musky scent and nuzzles up probing her soft tasting folds with his tongue, gently sucking her clit as she starts to groan. Twisting around careful not to disturb him, she takes him into her mouth and goes to it enthusiastically. She stops and cries out as she comes, her emotions gushing as waves of pleasure ripple through her every fibre. She cups his testes in her hands and runs her slick tongue up and sown his think shaft whilst grinding her wetness across his face. She feels him tighten as he starts to finish and spasms as once more she takes him orally. Panting and sated they lay there her head lying on the inside of his thigh, his lying on hers. Without realising it Rosanna starts to gently cry and Tanis stares at the ceiling feeling at true peace for the first time in a long while. The mage cannot believe he can feel so much fear. Experiencing the feelings and sensations felt by Tanis he still expects Amelia’s’ torturous attentions at any moment. At the point of Tanis’ expectant satisfaction he feared that she would show. Akullus had not had sex since his first sticky adolescent fumblings, choosing instead a different path leading to the ecstasy of his magic. He moans as realisation hits him, her purpose in allowing this union must surely to be to drain Tanis of any essential energies that Akullus may have been able to use to his advantage. It would take Akullus months of painstakingly slow effort to build up enough energy (sexual or spiritual) to make the smallest hint of magic available to him now. Tanis has no vows of celibacy to hold him in check and Amelia’s hold over him is becoming too hard for either soul to break. Bathed with sweat and sex, they lay on the sofa now just tasting and playing with one another’s physical forms. As he starts to stiffen in her hand once more she grins and lowers herself on to his now throbbing penis. As her warmth enfolds him and they start to move slowly, she moans and presses down harder, wanting more penetration and as much of him as she can get. They start to move faster and harder and he grabs her hips, but she teasingly takes him out of her and turns away from him. He sits up and smilingly, once more grabs her hips and enters her from behind. His pneumatic drill thrusting brings about the most intense spate of orgasm that Rosanna has ever endured. She cannot stop coming and squealing, his piston cock mainlining utopia straight into her. He grunts bestially and in an almost furious lust he drives harder and harder. She comes again; it explodes sending powerful rushes up and down her spine causing her to arch her back. He slaps her behind, none too playfully, but she cannot stop it. He withdraws and turns her back to the floor. Mounting her once more he slowly enters and listening to her moans he pushes their sheen filmed bodies closer. He is in a paradise of seat sex and pleasure. He has the forgetfulness of being about to come inside this perfect pocket. As he builds he reaches back to squeeze her buttocks and looking at her face he notices her eyes turn from sexual oblivion to burning jealousy. He starts to break as her features shift in to those of his beloved Amelia and he pushes himself backwards but he is unable to withdraw fully as her arms lock around him. “How could you?” She screams in her anguish. His mind bends torn between guilt, imminent orgasm and a sense of injustice. “But you said, my love.. You said.. You would appear to me in many forms. You will not understand but you will feel me. You will want to love me. You will know when the moment is right…” He pleads. Shaking her head as her eyes display grief and betrayal, Amelia starts to cry. Her body starts to dry and wither like a wretched, ugly slug left on a salt dusted hotplate. As she dries her nethers start to vice around him, making him shudder. Screaming his guilt disgust and guilt he throws the now desiccated dead thing from him, coming as he does so. Rosanna is riding through realms of fantasy she has never dreamt existed. Suddenly she is brought down as she senses the intrusion of something very, very wrong. Unwelcome to her pumping paradise, this alien presence opens her eyes. Tanis’ face is a face of fear. Set in a rictus of horrific disgust, she screams at him as he throws her with a strength born of terror from him. As his semen lands on her ankle, she feels a sharp pain smack against her head, incongruous against the warm heat. As her brain starts to leak over the hearth of the fire place she passes out, before the heat of her hair catching fire reaches her. Akullus is frantic; he sees the wrathful joy in her eyes and can do nothing to stop her. He can perceive all of her guises and has felt the charade he has woven around all of his fellow puppets. During the last act the rotting carcass had grimaced at him teaching such a lesson of terror that he was momentarily glad he had no physical bowels to lose control of. As the image of Amelia fades he witnesses Rosanna’s demise. The wet crutch of her cracked skull makes him want to weep. He wishes he could become numb. The sight of the corpse still wet with the sweat of their exertions and bloody hair aflame, sickens Tanis beyond anything he thought possible. The sight of burning hair, the sound of the leaky grey matter sizzling on the hot plate like hearth of the fire and the smell of the newly relaxed ex Mrs Jarret makes him start to heave. Oddly unable to be physically sick and hearing someone crying in his head he grabs his robe and flees to his flat. Leaning against the inside of his door he collapses to the floor and rocking in a foetal position he prays for a loss of consciousness. Part Three: Retribution Rocking and wailing under his breath Tanis finally manages to snap out of it. Standing he rushes to the bedroom with all haste and dresses. Amelia’s magic is helping block the usual responses a human would make under such pressures and despite remembering all that happened, he decides that it is only to be expected that he should be punished for his infidelity. He still has a green feeling in the very pits of his genes, to remedy this he knows he must track her and with the tears of his remorse, plea to be saved. The punishment meted out to him has taken its toll, but he will not let it discourage him from finding her. Stuffing some clothes into a rucksack he rushes out the door. Forcing himself to calm down to the sounds of sirens outside; he steps into the stair well. The lift doors open and the sound of authoritative shouting prick his senses. He takes the stairs in a nonchalant stride, being careful to be neither suspiciously rushed nor suspiciously slow. The walk seems to take forever and soon he is joined by other residents of the block of flats, brought from their private quarters by the peeling fire alarm. Unnoticed in the hubbub he manages to slip into the basement car park and walks unhurriedly to the nearest pub. Stepping inside he orders a double whisky and winces as he pays, noticing that it’s blended and not his favourite tipple. After ignoring those around him for three pints and chasers; he requests that the landlord call him a taxi and settles at the bar to wait. After 10 minutes he hears the beeping of a horn and steps out to the outside world embraced by its grim and smoggy dampness. The taxi driver asks for his name and it turns out it’s not his cab and the driver’s got the wrong pub. Standing in the grizzly, grimy city with its drizzle which seems to permeate through his clothing and soak every hitherto previously dry spot he shuffles from foot to foot. Looking out he sees the cordoned off flats in the distance and the flashing blue and whites, parked around the black and yellow do not cross tape. His mind is filled with turmoil, but he forces none of this to show on his face. He keeps an eye on his rucksack which he has placed under one of the vacant tables outside the pub a little way away from him. He inwardly thanks his common sense as a panda car passes by its sirens blaring to the beat of its lights. He doubts the police inside can see much out of the rain spattered windows anyway, but he feels his bowels go chilly with panic despite his apparent confidence. Without warning Amelia’s image appears before him, spreading warmth through him as it smiles. “Forgive me my love” She pleads. “There is nothing to forgive” he whispers to the streets. “It was my fault” He admits. “It lead to only what I deserved” Tears of regret flow down his cheeks and mingle with the steady rain collecting at the collar of his coat. “We were both at fault, my love and I forgive you. I wish to let you know I will be arriving soon” His pulse races with joy as the news sinks in. “When my sweet?” “I believe I have found a suitable vehicle for my spirit and soon I will be able to insinuate myself into her body.” A small measure of his old self intrudes into the moment and he frowns as confusion slaps against his head. Uncomprehending he wails; “But I don’t understand!” Akullus is straining to get through to Tanis. Amelia’s hate surrounds him bathing him in juddering dread. “Can you feel it yet?” She cackles. The pitch of her mockery sending pain into the few nerves he has managed to gain control of; it has provided a gauge with which to measure the level of degradation to Tanis’ sanity. The more control Tanis loses the more Akullus gains, but with Amelia’s continual presence Akullus in unsure how much good it will do him. The sense of his own impending doom looms above and around him constantly staunching the slim trickle of hope he had persuaded himself existed. The duality of the body’s perceptions is starting to break into his own mind. His perceptions and those of Tanis duped mind are causing chaos to roam free in his usually highly disciplined thought processes. It is taking the long practiced mental agility skills and every iota of survival instinct to stay even vaguely level headed. “Please, just kill me” he begs “Never” She screams “How many times must I plead? How much must I suffer?” “Until time itself stops, will you endure such agonies only gods can imagine” With her fading laughter echoing through his mind he can only watch her further manipulation of his increasingly malleable time share holder. Many times he has faced mortal terrors and undertaken the vilest of dark deeds for the progression of his magiks, but never before had he imagined anything could install such a feeling of unending peril as Amelia’s animosity and hatred. “I just want to die” He wails into the silence. Amelia is pleased with her progress so far, if pleased can describe such a feeling of malicious glee. She starts to appease Tanis, aware that his mind can only take to much enchanted tampering. “Is our love not enough for you, my hearts keeper? Is understanding truly necessary where faith in our held trust should suffice? Truly you should be at ease with me and thee.” As she speaks she weaves an aura of security around him making him forget his confusion and temporarily worship her maggot ridden carcass to even more extreme lengths. Tanis’ fears are abated as her charm burrows like fat feasting tapeworms deep into his substance. “You are so right, my love, no longer will I question you. I will only obey, for thou art my all.” “I will do everything I can to help you elude your forces of law” She tells him. “I am not without certain, hmm shall we say religious abilities, I have learnt much in my travels” She raises her hand to his cheek he palm settling there and causing him to tremble. “Tell me more” He asks. “Soon I’ll make everything clear to you I promise” She smiles. “But look your chariot draws near” “I’ll see you soon though won’t I?” “Of course” She whispers as she fades into the background. A great sorrow overshadows him as he feels her presence leave him. Grabbing his bag and stepping in to his taxi on auto pilot. He forces none of his feelings to show on his face, his feelings set and grim. The taxi driver queries his destination and he gives him the address of the nearest Novatel. The driver is about to mention the business of the police in the area, but the iron set features staring blankly into space with almost a vicious detachment make him think of doing so only once. He enters the hotel under a false name and pays with cash. He swaps inanities with the desk clerk and gets his key. Extraordinarily, the clerk cannot seem to see very clearly and moans constantly through the conversation about his new contact lenses not working very well. With haste he makes it to his room, shuts and locks the door and strips off his clothes before falling naked and shivering into an exhausted sleep. What little positivity Akullus could once muster, is emaciated and woefully starved. His will to escape is flagging and he has reasoned that she cannot kill him where he is or make him suffer any physical pain lest he open the pathways to Tanis’ feelings. He is tired of the constant fear and her threats, he knows what she must do to this mind and body to gain full access to him, but let her do what she will, after all it’s not his mind or body, he just has to endure and ignore, whatever she does to Tanis. His love for what Amelia once was is gone and his last thoughts are not of her, but of himself as he too follows Tanis in rest. Tanis sleeps throughout the day and Amelia allows his restorative slumber to further her own selfish ends. Outside, the world turns as usual despite the thunderous events surrounding Tanis. He sleeps through the remainder of the day and in to the next. At 8:30 of the following day he comes round as if awakening from general anaesthesia and lies still for half an hour as his thoughts assemble into something workable. Though rested he is not at ease. He cannot concentrate on anything bar his new found fugitive status despite thoughts of Amelia flickering at his peripheral vision like some hovering bird of prey. He makes his toilet and hesitantly calls room service for breakfast. He waits for a while and decides to get dressed. As there’s a knock at the door he asks them to leave it outside and he waits until the footsteps fade, before bringing the breakfast tray in. He moves to the bed and wolfs down the breakfast like one starved. As he finishes his coffee and the scant remains of egg, sausage, bacon and beans. He almost feels content, yet he knows that with her face consistently looming at the forefront of his thoughts, he will never be content with her physical absence. Amelia hides her presence from Akullus and observes him. Although she cannot read the whole of his mind, she can glean enough from the hopelessness and weariness that emanate from him in a most pleasing aura of misery. He is however, starting to become numb and she does not want him to remain unaffected. Regretfully she acknowledges that her torments are conditioning him and she knows that she must change tack soon lest he become lost to her vengeance once again. “Do not fret my love I am with you” She says shimmering into existence next to Tanis. “Stay with me please” He turns surprisingly unsurprised at her sudden appearance. “I wish I could, but I’m unable to keep this form for too long on this plane” She lies. “We must talk”, he whines. “I know so little about you, save what I feel through our bond. Please share with me a little?” Despite knowing that this moment had to come sooner or later a tiny part of the creature who was once Amelia has not wanted to do this, but has fabricated her half truths accordingly. “I come from another universe possibly either parallel or even far removed through times untold or yet to come from yours. It was a realm of sweetness and light, but not without the wars and petty squabbles which seem to affect mankind where ever or whenever he dwells. In my realm the mystical arts and crafts with which you are so fleetingly familiar with and other more arcane practices, which I fear you could never have comprehend, replace what your society terms as science. I had a tutor in these arts who was very dear to me and had taught me from a very young age. Our people have a custom of using magic to find our future betrothed” At this point she winces and draws a deep breath. “What’s wrong?” asks Tanis wincing in sympathy. “There is nothing you can do, it is the effects of staying in your world” She lies. “But it is of little importance. To continue, the ritual went ahead as planned and located my future husband. Little did I know that my friend and teacher, had designs on me himself. Under the pretence of concern he cast doubt upon the worth of the prince and the validity of my enchantment. His objections caused me to postpone our wedding and he murdered Carrhne and attempted to cover it up. I travelled far; too far perhaps to the point where I feared I had lost what little remained of my humanity, in my quest for revenge. However I found it so hard to forget my hurt. Whilst flitting through your world I happened upon you and in doing so I found myself casting the enchantment once more. This time the results were driven completely in your favour. You are my destiny now, we are inextricably linked. As for the jealous Akullus he may have been correct in his actions, though for the wrong reasons, for ultimately the led me to you. I know for certain that he will run forever and I know I will never forgive him, but I will reject my hatred so that our love may flourish” Tanis stands up clearly overwhelmed. “You would journey for so long and for so far and forget him for me? I can only hope to be so worthy.” For the first time in her memory, Amelia briefly remembers what it is to be human once more, what it left of her heart seems to sink below ground, but the hold of her masters is too strong and any tears which she may have once cried are burned by the fiery orifices which now serve as her eyes. The last vestige of hope for Amelia’s soul and the miniscule hope for some form of redemption she has hoarded is instantly devoured by her malingering cohorts and her sick masters. Akullus listens to her story with a heavy heart knowing it to be the adders nest of lies it really is, but seeing her so wholesome and earnest through Tanis’ eyes it touches on enough half truths for him to snap out of his conditioned conscience and makes him feel his loneliness anew. It is a testament to his hosts rapidly deteriorating mind that he feels the tears spill out, running down the cheeks as if they were his own and as he feels Tanis place their head in their hands, he utters ‘I love you’ into the empty space of their head. Amelia airs her plans to the head holding remnant of a young man before her. “Since it is so hard for me to remain here in spirit form alone, I must find a suitable receptacle for my soul. It will not take long and all you have to do is evade capture by your police, long enough for me to find you. There are many places for bodies whose souls have prematurely fled. I needs must inhabit one and when I find you my newly corporeal powers can keep us both safe. I will be able to manipulate those around us into believing you blameless of the crime of which you are accused. Just hold on for me please” Tanis watches the light fade from the room and is almost ill with longing and excitement. He cannot believe the possibilities ahead and the impossibility that he could love her even more than he did once before. Of course the explanation was hard to follow at times, but he has faith in her entirely and his continued escape from pursuit has given him cause enough. Summoning his courage he tidies himself up and steps out of his hotel floor. Once he is in the lift he feels a warm sense of protection envelop him and he steps out into the lobby with long confident strides. He beams at the attendant bidding him a good day and steps out through hotels automatic doors. Taking a deep breath of the rather bracing air, he feels his head clear and he steps in to a waiting taxi and travels to the train station. He waits outside the station and unable to resist, he lights a Marlboro and relishes the warmth it seems to bring into his system. Briefly he cannot tell whether he has not exhaled all of the drawn smoke of whether it is the chill condensation in the air. Chilly yet content he rubs his hands together and wonders inside to a nearby café for a cup of coffee. The tacky almost beatnik décor with its plastic lushness amuses him and it seems that he has entered the last refuge of the yuppie. Young men in pinstripes and all manner of portable gadgetry talk business in brash invasive voices to one another, unaware it seems that no-one cares what they do or how important they are. Cosseting himself in a corner as out of the way as possible, he signals the bored looking waiter over and orders a black coffee. He feels much calmer than he did yesterday and as the warmth from the cup transfuses from his hands to the rest of his body he cannot resist breaking into a spontaneous smile. For half an hour he sits at the café and watches the world go by. Finishing his coffee he meanders out into the front and starts walking, aimlessly. The bustle of the streets carry him past some majestic looking buildings, some modern and some historic. The crowds allow him to enjoy a sense of anonymity and the faceless feeling gives him a sense of invincibility. Amelia will come to him soon and after what she said in their last encounter he knows in his heart of hearts it will be permanent. Turning right into a large park he wanders over to a bench and sits, taking stock of his situation. He has an uneasy feeling that he quickly dismisses as sheer folly. A group of rough looking bikers stumble into the park, swearing and jostling one another. Their colours display numerous skulls and scantily clad buxom women. They make their way towards him and then bump into a bunch of foreign student looking tourists. They barge through with a stream of violent obscenities shoving one terrified youngster to the ground and spitting on his fellows. Scared and appalled the youths quickly make themselves scarce. As the bikers get closer a girl in their midst, smiles at Tanis. The closer they get the more familiar she becomes. Her long blonde platinum locks bounce to the jigging bounce of her walk and tumble down the ample front of her T-shirt. She winks eyes of summer-sky blue at him and the voice enters his head at the same time as realisation dawns on him. “Come to me, my love” Tanis runs towards her busting through the stunned grebos at the front of the group and scatters them as tears of happiness build in his eyes. “In this vessel we can be together for ever” “My love!” He cries as he wraps his arms around his formerly incorporeal other half. Drawn to her like fire to a match, his heart beats faster in the recognition of two lost souls finally about to bond. Then as he moves his lips towards her he feels a punch to his stomach and then a hot coal is wrenched up from his abdomen to his shoulder. Stunned and confused, he looks to see the scarlet fountain explode at the knives withdrawal and falls to his knees. As he falls face first to the ground Amelia’s superimposed features dissolve into the grizzled features of a greasy rider and the last thing Tanis hears as he slips away into unconsciousness is: “Fucking faggot did you see that . . . “ Part Four: The Grind Finale Tanis sits catatonic within his white walled room. He feels nothing save an overwhelming sense of love. His reckoning of the horrible biker situation is that his hastiness in approaching Amelia obviously made the transaction of her spirit impossible and it was his rash and foolhardy actions that were to blame. His head has been filled with many odd thoughts recently and the source of them evades his mental probing with an accomplished skill. Akullus is hopeful once more and senses that Tanis’ mental degradation is growing more pronounced with every passing hour. As Tanis’ mind gets more adrift from it’s physical moorings Akullus gains more control. The stabbing incident has shocked poor Tanis’ ability to control himself into a meagre smidgeon. Everyday Akullus grows more confident in his strength over Tanis. The hearing pertaining to Tanis’ temporary incarceration in the ‘special’ facility hadn’t taken a day. The adjudication board woefully took on his case from the local authorities who still had whole chickens (forget egg) on their faces from letting him be on the run for so long. Since no-one in any of their forces had been able to find him until the knifing which really defied explanation of any kind, committing him had been their only real option. The consigned Tanis to an institute for psychological ‘rehabilitation’ and every day they attempted to give him the prescribed intensive counselling. Modern techniques and drugs had no affect so Tanis merely sat there drooled on the carpet and gibbered occasionally. It took a period of 2 months for the psychiatrist to resist scrawling ‘terminal nutcase’ on Tanis’ folder and instead his report read: ‘Patient shows no response to stimuli of any form or kind. There are |