A Whateley Academy Tale
Insanity Prerequsite
Part 1: Status Quo
By Dr. Bender
Prologue
Wednesday, 18th October 2006 01:56
Darkness
was not a deterrent to the tiny beasts that crawled between the cracks of
reality. The idiotic parasites chanted inaudibly the names of the elder gods
who had long forgotten their least creations in a pocket realm of twisted
space. Each of their lives was a battle to escape their prison, lives which
could be lost in a moment as time itself fluxed and shuddered about them. Some lived
eternally, trapped in the crack, others died only to return moments or years
later.
It
was through this chaotic vortex that something else strode, somehow immune to
the warp and weave of reality. It was a dark and tattered thing, alive and
breathing yet as dead as the eldritch stone of the endless tunnel between
planes. The vermin made way for it, knowing the Old One’s scent, worshipping in
their silent chant, “Iä! Iä! Gg’gorsch’a’bha egurtsa’ar’ug
d’ Dalhor! Cthluhu fthagn! Cthluhu fthagn!”
It ignored them, leaping up through the hole in the roof and into
the freezing night, uttering only a single, painful, word.
“Kim-ba.”
#
The
black clad girl eased with ninja-like stealth through the small window into the
basement. It was a weird room, the walls scrawled with some rune thingies that
really creeped her out. But they certainly weren’t as creepy as the dead white
little girl that sat cross legged in the middle of the room. She wore black
make-up around her eyes and lips (at least, it looked like make-up), her
fingers and toes tipped with dark, razor sharp, claws.
She
was only a half-pint and slender as a sapling, wearing a disturbingly short
dress for her age and a singlet that left her shoulders exposed. Her eyes were
closed and she sat completely still, steady as a rock, even her small breast
failed to rise or fall like a normal girl’s. The ninja took off one of her
gloves and held her hand in front of the kid’s mouth. No breath.
It
was strange for a vamp to be sleeping at night, but the ninja shrugged
girlishly and pulled out her best stake. She took aim and plunged it into the
Goth’s back, straight through the centre of her spine, then stepped back.
Nothing
happened.
She
pulled out the stake and watched the wound close by itself, catching only a
momentary glimpse of wriggling grey-green tendrils underneath white skin.
Growling
to vent her anger, she rammed the stake back in.
Nothing
happened again.
“Aren’t
you, like, supposed to disintegrate or something?” She whispered, tapping one
foot impatiently. Still there was no response. So she reached over her head and
drew her blessed sword from the sheathe on her back. One cut severed the undead
thing’s head from its unholy body.
There
was a sickening crackle, very similar to frying bacon, as it’s spine pushed its
way upwards from the bloody, purple, neck stump, writhing tentacles twisting
themselves around bone. Flesh weaved and interlaced, forming a translucent
membrane over the wound as the head expanded like the head of a pulsating
pimple.
Her
eyes were still closed as the head finished regenerating, hair and eyelashes
pushing out while the skin clouded, returning to its former china white
complexion. In a moment, the only indication that the head had been severed at
all was a ring of purple around her neck and a thin layer of slime that was
already in the process of drying, flaking off with the smug sense of a job well
done.
The
ninja girl stamped her foot in frustration, then jumped head first out the
window and back into the darkness of the night. She needed a good night’s sleep
before class tomorrow, and an Asprin to get rid of her migraine…
Chapter 1 – Status Quo
Sunday 15th October 2006, 00:00
Sara
threw herself down onto her bed, letting the packages under her arms drop to
the floor, her mind still reeling from the onslaught of the last twenty four
hours. The rest of Team Kimba had staggered or floated (literally) up the
steps, bushed. Even Jade had to be carted up the stairs in the arms of her
alter ego. Poe was dark and quiet, only the faint electric hum from the
maintenance area beyond Sara’s room was clearly audible.
Rifling
through her packages, the Demon Princess lay her purchases out on the bed.
Books such as ‘An Expurgated Necronomicon by H.P. Lovecraft’, the featureless
and unattributed ‘Black Book of Salem’, ‘Zagig’s Comedicon’ and the slender
volume called ‘The Folio of True Names’ were stacked next to the likes of
‘Stephen King’s IT’, ‘The Lovecraft Omnibus’ and ‘Michael Waite’s Incongruity’.
She didn’t really know why she had bothered to buy the last one, she could
almost recite it from memory. Maybe to make my room feel more like home,
she pondered.
She
threw the bundle of old clothes in a corner, leaving them for later. Rifling
through the DVDs, she fished out the new expansion pack for GEO out of the bag,
ripping through the plastic with her claws while checking the time.
“Nine
hours,” she sighed.
The
wait for her laptop to power up was mercifully quick, the spinning ARC logo
barely visible in a blur of motion, the animation linked to the status bar at
the bottom of the screen. Quickly, she tapped the keys with the tips of her
claws, careful not to scratch the plastic.
User
Name: Honeytrap
Password:
***************
Mr.
Babage, her teacher for Hacking Theory, had been adamant in drilling into their
heads the need for security in all aspects of their lives. From random, case
sensitive, passwords to the proper disposal of personal waste, even the basics
required discipline and dedication to detail that only half the class was
capable of achieving.
The
alias ‘Honeytrap’ had been an easy, she had always had a fondness for the
nickname given to the seductive female spies of the World War era, and later
the Cold War. It was a beautifully constructed word, bringing together two
disparate sounds into a single, silken, phrase that rolled off the palette yet
forced a bitter snap from the end of your tongue. Pity she couldn’t take it as
her code name anymore, though it just did not have quite the feel she
was looking for.
Purchasing
the original GEO on its inception had been the brainchild of Dr. Bellows, who
claimed that the RPG used fascinating psychological profiling software to
tailor the game to the needs of the individual. “Playing games,” he had said
after dropping the suggestion into her lap during their first session, “has
been proven to relieve stress, giving the brain time to come to grips with a
wide range of problems. GEO is perfect for this, it allows never before seen
compatibility with the player. I’m not asking you to retreat from your
problems, I’m asking you to let yourself go for a while and have a bit of fun.”
Sara
had to admit, it worked like a charm. Not only did she have something to occupy
the dark, quiet, hours of the night after she had finished her homework, she
had something to talk about with the other students in Hacking Theory.
Her
character was one of the most popular on Whateley’s GEOFAN forums, and
elsewhere across the world. Marala had started life in the GEO world as a lowly
Temptress, the evil equivalent of the Enchantress. Unlike any other class in
the entire game, however, the Temptress did not earn experience for killing
monsters and looting tombs, she could only become more powerful by luring
another character and absorbing their abilities.
This
meant that the Temptress was one of the most feared, reviled and hunted of the
classes in GEO. One of the few times one would see the Light and Dark sides
working together is to slay a Temptress before the battle began in earnest,
leaving no room for treachery. To avoid ending up like this, Sara had
immediately launched a campaign of disguise, bluff and misinformation on the
entire world, both light and dark.
The
first step was to disguise herself so that no-one would recognize her for what
she was. Where other Temptresses died quickly for wearing skimpy silk gowns and
transparent harem outfits, Marala wore studded leather and carried a longsword,
shield and bow. Her second act was to escape the Dark Lands as quickly as
possible before she became the love slave of an Orc warlord in the Black Cap
Mountains or worse. Travelling in the lands of light alternately as a wandering
bard, rogue or low level fighter allowed her to pick off worthy opponents by
lulling them into a false sense of security, luring them away from civilization
individually and sucking out their souls when the moment was ripe.
Her
hit and run tactics, moving between the Borderlands and the DarkTerritories were now the stuff of
legends. Some said that Marala had manipulated an adventuring party into
hunting down a shapeshifter in order to absorb its powers while it was weak,
which was how she was able to operate in the Light for so long undetected by
Guardian Priests. In truth, she hadn’t been able to gain that ability via soul
sucking, it had come much later when The Darkness transformed her into a
Succubus. For the first few weeks, she’d just been very good at disguise and
deception, gathering every item, spell and ability possible to evade physical
and magical detection.
At
the height of the campaign that had earned her the honour of becoming a monster
in her own right, players were terrified to the point where no-one travelled in
any group less than three. Word had reached her that inns in the borderlands no
longer took in lone visitors. Somehow, Marala’s likeness had been posted on
every notice board, her name on the lips of every town crier. Even the usually
stoic NPCs cringed at the mention of her name. Adventuring parties would tear
themselves apart simply on the suspicion that one of them may be her in
disguise. And they were right enough of the time that their fears were well
founded.
At
some point, however, she had either gotten too tired or too powerful for these
games to amuse her anymore, so she switched tactics. Moving back into the Lands
of Darkness, she struck a bargain with a Warlord calling himself Torg the
Undying, a Death Knight raised from the eternal sleep by an old friend turned Lich
who he in turn betrayed for a trinket or two. Torg was dumb but powerful,
jumping at the chance to ransack a city deep within the Lands of Light. With
her help they gathered an army of misanthropes eager to participate in the evil
version of tomb raiding and dungeon crawling: Invasion.
The
fools had left the black ops section of the army in her care, giving her
control over a small guild of Assassins called by the uncreative name of The
Black Hand. Her twenty operatives were a start, however, working as a unit the
group razed and plundered farmland, ambushing key individuals during the build
up to the full scale assault. Bullying and seducing some Alchemists had been
the most successful and useful move of the campaign, the Black Hand managed to
poison half the army sent to oppose Torg’s invasion force, leaving the City of Yuthgar
vulnerable to siege. What had happened next was a matter of controversy on the
forums.
It
is known that The Black Hand perished to the last man trying to assassinate
Lord Yuthgar in his own keep. It is also well known that Marala rode with Torg
during the final march on the City. What is not known is how she managed to
single-handedly attack and destroy the Grove of the World Keepers, killing the
Grand Druid in single combat, more than a thousand leagues to the south,
returning to annihilate and scatter the preoccupied Torg to the four winds just
after he had successfully razed the city to the ground. The rumour mongers
whispered of secret magic in the wild lands or deep under the earth. Hardly any
even suspected that the success of the Black Hand was due to the skilful
application of combat drugs and Necromancy.
Her
audacity earned her powerful friends, enemies and allies. Her new powers and
form gained her a small kingdom of her own under the Black Cap Mountains where
she allowed several evil clans to lair under her protection. And it was, in
fact, all due to the creative use of existing spells and abilities. Not even
her closest underlings knew of her ability to teleport throughout the land
using her stolen rune magic. Adventurers still puzzled at the waves of feral,
rabid, beasts that roamed their lands or the encroachment of carnivorous vines
in the Lands of Light.
All
in all, Sara was quite pleased with herself. She felt a tiny glow of
achievement as she slipped the first DVD into the drive in the side of her
laptop.
The
GEO: EPOCH expansion pack had only been released two days before and the net
was already abuzz over some of the rumoured new features. Sara doubted that
there were now monsters the size of mountains or wizards who could control the
flow of time, however the graphical and interface enhancements were too good to
pass up. So was the free microphone and speech recognition software, just
thinking about the ability to talk to her minions and victims made her hot and
bothered. Of course, she always seemed to be hot and bothered these days.
Quickly
agreeing to the conditions of use, she opened her top drawer and heaved out a
thick, red, ring-bound folder to work on while the new features loaded. Flipping
through the first fifty pages, which merely contained old homework sheets for
algebra and physics anyway, and past her crude drawing of the Yellow Sign
(sketched with fluorescent yellow highlighter), she finally came to the real
purpose of the compilation.
Notes on Team Kimba, by Sara Waite, Sara unconsciously labeled the
work, despite its lack of an official title.
Continuing
to scan her previous notes, she underlined her first point: NEED COMMUNICATORS
URGENTLY. The point had been proven yet again down in Boston’s sewer system. Lack of funds and
enthusiasm for the project was proving to be a sticking point, she made a
mental note to talk to Bunny ASAP.
With
that, she turned further along to her pet project, scooping her new books up
onto her desk while pushing her laptop over to one side, shifting her desk lamp
into a better position to pour over the books. The Jade Project took up much of
her time, the problem so complex and fundamental that hardly any of the regular
resource material even touched on it.
Recessive
or Obstructed Body Image Templates were not as common as one would think,
though most were curable with a combination of regular physical therapy and
hypnosis, or even psychological therapy in mild cases to push the BIT into
action. There was an interesting section in the ‘Encyclopaedia Aberrant’ on the
Popeye Syndrome, a psychological affliction occurring in mutants where their
powers form a psychological dependency on an object which must be consumed or
acquired for their abilities to assert themselves, even causing physical
changes in rare cases involving Exemplars. Sara added that to her list of
possible causes, which was already a page long.
Sighing
again, Sara opened the top book on the pile and flipped to the index in the
back of the book, “Body Warping of Gorgoroth, page 187, sounds promising…”
#
Sara
had just finished getting dressed when the ARC Warper literally popped into the
room. Terrance was a sandy-haired, all-American, boy, though you could hardly
tell when he was wearing his Light Armoured ARC-80v power suit. The black, carbon
fibre, carapace fit like a glove. Aside from the nose and mouth, he was covered
from head to toe in the suit. “Ma’am, are you ready to depart?” He was also
very serious and uptight for a twenty year old. Despite his powers, he refused
to take a code name, believing them to be frivolous and melodramatic.
“Sure,
just let me get my shoe on…” Sara fiddled with her new black sneakers, one of
the few items of clothing she’d purchased in Boston. Explaining her claws to the
salesman had been murder. Finally, she secured her nametag to the breast of her
shirt, “Ok, lets go.”
The
reason that ARC Warpers were the principle method of travel for the
corporation’s VIPs became obvious once Sara had used the service for two weeks,
the instantaneous trip being only one of the obvious benefits. Security only
had to be assured at two points, the point of origin and the point of
destination, making transport of valuable personnel far more cost effective than
a car ride.
So,
one minute she was standing in her room at Whateley, the next she was inside
arrival cell 16, ground level of Arkham Sanitorium, a loud pop of displaced air
the only herald to their arrival. Sara nodded her thanks to Terrance, exiting
the large glass booth quickly to let the next passenger through. Dr. Otto was
waiting for her at the desk, “Morning, Sara. Ready?”
“As
I ever will be,” Sara sighed, following the balding research scientist up the
antigravity lifts and into the testing labs, assistants hard at work
calibrating the scanning equipment. Otto ignored them, pulling a chair out for
Sara while taking his own seat on the other side of the cold steel desk, “I
heard that you got a good workout yesterday.”
Sara
bushed, “Yes… and no.”
Otto
slid the papers out of the way for a moment, “Want to talk about it?”
“Not
really,” Sara shook her head, “Nothing new to report. I’m fast, but I lack
control. I’m strong, but it takes too long for my strength to take hold. My
psychic abilities just… suck, for lack of a better word. I can lift a grand
total of five pounds, sense thoughts and emotions at five feet and create a
spark of fire that lasts an hour. Speed’s my only saving grace.”
“Sara,
you’ve only been doing this for two weeks…”
“I
know.”
“…you
can’t expect miracles overnight…”
“I
know.”
“…it
takes concentrated effort over many years for most psychics just to get to your
level of proficiency. Personally, I wouldn’t even try to copy your time and
speed tricks.”
Sara
smiled faintly, staring at the ground, “I think I broke the sound barrier
yesterday. It ruined my clothes, though, and left everything around me a right
mess.”
Otto
blinked, picking up a pen to scribble a note in his ever-present paperwork,
“So, your speed and reaction times are improving, but your other powers remain
unchanged?”
Sara
nodded.
“Have
you been using your time compression techniques often during classes? How about
outside classes?”
“Only
during Martial Arts. Aside from my tentacles, it’s my only real draw card in a
fight. Particularly against bricks, the only way I can hurt some of them is by
accelerating my punches to add momentum. I’ve got to be careful, though, I
break my hand sometimes.”
“So
the stress of your powers is taxing to your body. What about your mind? Having
any hallucinations? Disorientation? Blackouts?”
Sara
shook her head, “No, nothing.”
“You’ve
been doing your exercises?” Otto stared at her over his glasses.
“Every
night. Meditation doesn’t seem to be helping me at all. I’ve been reading up on
advanced focusing techniques like you suggested, nothing seems to be helping.
My best results are still occurring when I’m under stress.”
“How
are your classes going?”
“Good
and bad again,” Sara sighed, “science is great, I’m already far beyond the
other students in Physics, Chemistry and Biology. Principles of Magic is really
interesting, even if they do treat me weird since they found out that I eat mithril.
Martial Arts is… strained.”
“Oh?”
Dr. Otto raised one eyebrow, lapsing into his ‘psychotherapist’ tone.
“Well,
Ito Sensei and Chaka Sempai can sense Chi, they tell me that I draw all the Chi
around me and inside me into a black hole in my chest. Ito Soke and Tolman
Sensei say that they can’t train me because my body works nothing like a normal
human’s, they don’t even know where to start. So, I’ve sort of been fed to the
wolves for the last two weeks, all I seem to be doing is giving everyone
dodging lessons.”
“Are
you winning any bouts?”
“All
the time, though that’s part of the problem,” Sara drew more breath in, feeling
her last few words drain her oxygen reserves, “I seem to divide the class into
two groups, those who beat me and those who don’t. Either they’re not fast,
strong or invulnerable enough to stand up to me or they’ve got the edge over me
in spades. Take Tennyo, for example. She’s strong, fast, can fly and use energy
bolts. She runs rings around me, cuts away all my tentacles, then finishes me
off by flinging me into the cage. Chaka Sempai’s just too good for me to hit,
though we tend to have the longest bouts. Hank’s just a fuckin’ tank… a flying
tank, no less. Totally invulnerable, absolutely no way to hurt him, strong as an
a herd of oxen. Ayla, Jinn and I are on the same level, though Jinn presents
her own set of problems, at least I can manhandle her into the cage about half
the time.”
“And
Ito Sensei has no advice for you at all?”
Sara
shook her head, “He doesn’t want to contaminate my thinking by placing human
boundaries on me. He gives Jinn and I the same advice, find what you do better
than a human. So, I’ve been trying to use my tentacles and flexibility to my
advantage, but everything tends to end up in a tangled mess. Chaka Simpai even
hogtied me with my own tentacles once, I had to bite them off.”
Dr.
Otto grimaced, “So your shifter abilities haven’t improved either?”
Sara
shook her head again. She was getting sick of doing that, “I feel so stupid.
The only thing I’m good at is storing up useless information. I can quote to
you the entire periodic table, explain and expound on the Palliver Equations or
advanced Dimension Theory. But what good is all that if I can’t apply it?”
“Give
it time, Sara, you’re starting your training two weeks late, remember? It
sounds to me like you’ve only just caught up with your friends, it’s
unreasonable to expect you to do any better than you already have. In the last
few weeks, you’ve foiled several attempts on your life and fought a real, live,
supervillain to a standstill. Isn’t that enough?”
“That
wasn’t me,” Sara scowled, more at herself than anyone else, “that was Team
Kimba. I stopped one of them, but that was more like swatting a gnat. I
couldn’t have engaged the Necromancer in spell combat like Nikki. I couldn’t
even handle Lycanthros when he jumped me from behind. Chaka Sempai did.”
“Sara,
you’ve done better than any normal girl your age could ever hope…”
Sara
slammed her fist into the table, leaving a dent, “Second best isn’t good
enough! I can’t accept that from myself, what’s going to happen the next time
The Necromancer comes calling? We caught him by surprise yesterday, everyone
seems to forget that!”
“SARA!
Pay attention to me, because this is very important,” Dr. Otto stood up,
lending his bulk to his already considerable charisma, “if you push yourself
too far, too fast, even you could quite possibly burn out or drive yourself
insane.” He pushed the paperwork into the bin next to his feet, “That’s it, no
tests today. You and I are going to have a long talk.”
#
Screech
hugged her legs close to her chest, sitting amid the broken black candles on
the altar of Cauldron Hill. She stared at the depression at the base of the
cliff, where Bloodworm had fallen through the very earth, or so Romulus and Remis said.
Despair welled up as the small girl fiddled with the straight razor in her left
hand, trying to build up the courage to use it again.
The
scars on her wrists crossed her arms the wrong way, the doctors had been able
to just sew her up and keep her sedated. Then the psychiatrist had tricked her
into believing in something again. Underneath the make-up, she wasn’t strong
like the other mutants, or smart. She wasn’t particularly good looking, no
matter how hard she tried, she was too bony and skinny.
And
she could never become a witch. One word from her mouth could peel the skin off
someone’s face or shatter brick walls into dust, but she could never prey out
loud to Mother Earth or raise her voice in praise of Astarte. She was cursed,
anyone who became her friend or even came close to her died. Bloodworm wasn’t
the first and he wouldn’t be the last.
“I
thought I’d find you here,” Romulus sat down beside her, staring pointedly at the razor,
“What are you doing with that?”
Screech
shrugged, still fiddling with it.
“You
promised us, remember? No more. Come on, hand it over.”
Screech
withheld her sigh of disappointment, folding the edge over into the handle and
slipping it into his pocket.
“You’ve
been skipping classes,” he accused.
Screech
didn’t bother answering.
“How
is torturing yourself going to help? Bloodworm isn’t going to come back, no
matter how deep you cut yourself or how much you bleed. I know you miss him,
but he’s gone and he won’t be back.”
It
was the brutal truth, Screech knew that, but she couldn’t help hating herself.
She couldn’t bring herself to blame Sara, what the Cult had been doing was
wrong, but as long as it was what Bloodworm wanted, everything felt so right.
Romulus gently eased her chin
up from her knees, turning her face to look into his, “You know that we…”
He
just trailed off. Screech smiled, kissing the sweet twin on the cheek, knowing
that his brother would feel it also. Then she shook her head. It was not to be.
He
turned away quickly, “Remis is still in hospital from what that little bitch
did to him.”
Screech
suppressed a chuckle. She was very good at doing that, she had to be. Still,
she knew that a projectile wound down there could seriously scar the boy
for life, but she had to admit it had its funny side. Romulus, of course, could never see that.
Romulus sighed and walked off,
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Promise?”
Screech
nodded.
“Thank-you.”
Screech
listened to his footsteps as he descended the staircase, turning his back on
the sun.
#
Sara
watched Dr. Otto sip his tea, staring out over the grey countryside from the
cafeteria window, “So, absolutely no improvement in control of your powers? At
all?”
“Nothing,”
Sara confirmed, “I’ve been concentrating on Telepathy and Empathy at night in
my room. It’s not like a wall, really, more like everything just fades away,
like turning the volume down on a stereo.”
He
nodded, “That’s normal. Does meditating help at all? Are thoughts or emotions
louder or quieter? Is there any time when you can feel nothing at all?”
“No,
on all counts. Everything that comes within five feet, no exceptions. I can’t
even turn it off.”
He
squinted, taking off his glasses to clean the lenses with a handkerchief,
“That’s bad, psychics who can’t turn off their extra senses tend to go mad or
be driven into the most remote and desolate places on Earth just to get away
from the ‘noise’. In the worst cases, they go mad from overstimulation.”
“I’ve
been reading about that,” Sara nodded dejectedly, shivering slightly, “in fact,
the statistics show that 98% of all unlimited Telepaths have severe personality
disorders. The worst cases don’t know the difference between their own thoughts
and others, according to the California Institute of Parapsychology.”
“I
know. We keep a few of those unfortunates in warded rooms downstairs. I doubt
that you’ll end up like them, however. The problem of overstimulation doesn’t
apply to you, not having a regular human brain does have its advantages.”
“Well,
that’s a relief,” Sara sighed, “I’ve been a little worried. Of course, that
brings us to my next problem. I’m not respirating anymore, I have to tell
myself to keep breathing. If I needed to breathe, I’d be a little more upset…”
Dr.
Otto chuckled at her weak smile, “I did tell you that normal human functions
would begin to shut down after your pores sealed off…”
“I
know, but it’s… annoying now. I just wish I’d either breathe, or not. Having to
talk to people gets frustrating sometimes. And then there’s… er…”
Sara’s
cheeks bloomed purple. Dr. Otto didn’t have to guess, “The Lust factor. How are
you dealing with it?”
“I’m
not, not really,” Sara sighed, “it’s getting worse and worse, the more I deny
it the worse it gets. I’ve had to resort to… er… you know... a few times.”
“Sara,
it’s a perfectly normal thing, particularly in someone with your hormone level,
not to mention your ancestry. Has your father contacted you at all?”
Sara
shook her head.
“I’m
sure he’s busy organizing something. Gothmog’s not one to do things by half
measures.”
“Do
you know him?” Sara gasped, surprised.
“I
know of him. His reputation is mixed, depending on who you talk to. Most of my
colleagues agree that he’s relatively harmless.”
“Relative
to what?” Sara snorted, “No, you don’t have to answer that. I already know.”
Otto
was silent for a long time, staring up into the grey monotone sky that
stretched off into the horizon.
“Mom
used to tell me stories when I was a kid… well, before,” Sara whispered,
scratching the polished wooden tabletop with her claws, “about elder things
that roamed the Earth before mankind, about aliens that sailed through the gulf
of space between worlds on streams of time. About weird gods without form who
consumed and were consumed even as they gave birth to themselves in places
beyond human understanding. The books in the Waite Collection described strange
and unnameable places, I thought they were just remnants of ancient
devil-cults, after all, there’s always someone willing to do a deal with a
devil, even before Christianity reared its head. But it’s all true, isn’t it?”
Dr.
Otto nodded, “Most likely. You know why you got stuck with me here, don’t you?”
“I
can guess.” Sara didn’t blink. She didn’t need to anymore, the nictating film
over her eyes protected them from dust and particles.
“I
met Lovecraft once. Before his final death in the late sixties…”
“I
thought Lovecraft died in ’37?” Sara interrupted.
Otto
shook his head, “He faked his first death to throw Thule Gemeinschaft off his
trail. Hitler turned the tables on us later on in ’45. For a long time, he was
our only real link to the worlds of the Great Old Ones and the Mythos itself.
His constant flitting through time and space was… disturbing. Near the end we
weren’t sure wether he was even human anymore, constant exposure to the Mythos
was turning him into something else, but the mutation was uncontrolled. Perhaps
he knew more about how the universe really works than any human in all of
history, and nobody would listen to his warnings. When I met him back in ’62,
he was confined to his bed in the old Sanitorium. Sometimes he insisted on
being called Randolph Carter, at others, Abdul Al’Azrad.”
“The
Servant of the Destroyer.” Sara supplied.
“Quite.
Now I’ve got another writer on my hands, only your mutation is entirely
controlled.”
“Tell
that to me once you’ve tasted it from the inside,” Sara scowled, “I don’t want
to be this way, but I do. When I give in and just follow my nature it just
feels so good, like the whole universe is at my feet. B-but the things my body
wants to do… I’m so screwed up inside.”
Otto
face twisted up, “Sounds like Deidrick’s Syndrome… no, wait, that’s too simple
an explanation.”
“Oh,
I know what it is,” Sara shivered, “it’s my nature. I’m not human anymore,
remember? And I’ve got the cat-scans to prove it.”
“I
thought you two ‘d be chained to a desk all day.”
Sara’s
face lit up as she hugged her foster mother around the waist, leaping into the
embrace with enough force to stagger her.
“Woah,
hold on there, sugar,” Donna chuckled, smoothing Sara’s raven hair, “not all of
us are invulnerable, you know. Mind if I take her for a drive, Otto?”
“I
think that would be a marvellous idea,” Otto stood, downing the last of his
tea, “I’m afraid that as a conversationalist, my skills are rather rusty. I
fear that in my trade, talking shop is rather more depressing than normal. I’ll
see you girls later.”
Sara
gave the older man a peck on the cheek before he could leave, standing on the
tips of her taloned toes to reach. He gave her a fatherly smile before sidling
away with a spring in his step.
“Come
on,” Donna took her by the shoulder, jangling her car keys, “it’s a little grey
out, but the countryside’s quite picturesque coming up to winter.”
It
was nice being ensconced in the black leather interior of Donna’s BMW a few
minutes later, almost drifting through the damp green hills of the Miskatonic.
“It’s
good to see you again.” Donna smiled warmly.
“It’s
only been a week, you know,” Sara chuckled, “how’s Nathan?”
A
shadow seemed to pass over Donna’s face. “Oh, ah, I haven’t seen him for a
while,” She muttered darkly, “he’s on assignment in New York already.”
Sara
looked at her foster mother from the corner of her eye. Her aura pulsed green
and red, with purple permeating throughout. The colours clashed, creating a
disgustingly insipid pattern. “Bad parting?”
“Not
entirely amicable, no.” The doctor said, face deadpan.
“Want
to talk about it?”
Donna
glared at the road for a moment, “He… I… we argued.”
“It
seems that I spread good cheer wherever I go,” Sara grumbled.
The
blonde snorted, poking her glasses back into place, “It’s nothing to do with
you, Sara, just unfortunate circumstances. Nathan wanted me to move in with
him, I… wasn’t ready for that. So we had a fight.”
Sara
was silent for a long time. “You’re lying. Neither of you are that shallow.”
After
that, the silence became palpable. Finally, they came to their destination, a
lonely lookout point high in the mountains that overlooked the valley, Dunwich
visible in the distance while Arkham was even closer, the lights of Berlin airport also visible
between the two townships.
Sara
waited for Donna to build up the courage to speak. It didn’t take long.
“You’re
right. Sort of. Nathan did want me to move in with him, and I didn’t want to.
That wasn’t what started the argument, though,” She unhooked her slender arm
from her jacket, undid the cufflink on her shirt and rolled up the sleeve,
“This did.”
Holding
out her wrist, Donna revealed a red birthmark on the tender flesh of the inside
of her forearm. It would not have been peculiar except for its distinctive shape,
that of a stylized inverted triangle. “It’s the same symbol that’s on your
forehead.” Donna accused, “What is it? What does it mean?”
Sara
gently took her guardian’s hand, running her fingers up the arm, careful not to
touch the rune, “It’s my demon mark. I’m so sorry, Donna, I didn’t know what I
was doing…”
“What
does it mean?” Donna repeated, desperation growing in her voice.
“It’s
a mark of ownership.” Sara sighed, “It creates a psychic link between us that
is very hard to break. If it’s any consolation, you have to be willing to
accept it on some subconscious level for the mark to appear… Donna?”
Donna
was shaking, turned away from Sara, one hand over her mouth. She looked like
she was sobbing, only her already sickening aura sparkled with lemon yellow
amusement. It took Sara a moment to recognise the muted laughter for what it
was.
“I-I
did… I do…” Donna’s voice shook as she clutched her shoulders, attempting to
warm herself with her hands as if she were cold. Sara shifted in her seat,
moving slightly away from her foster mother, afraid of what was going to happen
next.
“Sara,
I… I… you should know that… Sara, I’m not homosexual,” she stammered, bottom
lip shaking, “b-but I, lately, I’ve been having these dreams and, well, ever
since that night I… I’ve been thinking about you a lot and I don’t know why or
how to explain it but…”
The
Demon Princess resisted the urge to reach out to the crying woman, tendril
clenching bone. If she’d met this girl back before the change, he would have
reached out to hold her delicate shoulders forever in his arms, whispered into
her ear to reassure her. Now, while her resolve was strong, her heart and loins
were screaming at her to do the same, as if nothing had occurred in the
intervening month. They were about the right age, she would have been a little
older but she didn’t look a day over 20. She was smart, beautiful, caring,
loyal… Sara squashed those thoughts. She couldn’t let Donna get involved with
her… but wasn’t she already involved?
“I’ve
been… doing things in the last few weeks that I haven’t, that I’ve never
even thought of,” Donna stared glassily at the steering wheel, “I-I went and bought
a DVD from this place in Dunwich. I think Nathan saw it, maybe that’s what
started this, it was right after the mark on my arm became clear. Tentacle
porn. The clerk gave me a really weird look.”
Her
chuckle held little mirth, “I watched it and I was thinking of you so I
started… I’ve been buying them off the net ever since, I can’t seem to get
enough, then one night he found me and we had this big fight and I told him how
I felt about you and he… he just went white and left. God, why did I give him a
key? I shouldn’t have, but I thought we were… God, I think he loves you too. Oh,
God, how did we get to this?”
She
really was weeping now, tears cascading down the black plastic of the steering
wheel as she rested her brow on the handle. Sara couldn’t hold herself back
anymore, reaching over to hug her foster mother, letting her body grow inside
her bodysuit, stretching the spandex-like material while her wrists crept
further and further away from the sleeves. At her touch, the psychologist
launched herself into Sara’s breast, howling her despair as if trying to expel
it. Sara froze, not daring to even twitch.
The
kiss took the Demon completely off guard. Sucked together by the air pressure,
Sara found herself trapped between the steel-hard grip of her foster mother and
her own desire. Gently, she pushed her away, stroking the woman’s cheek with
her fingers, “If I’d met you more than a month ago, I would have told you to go
away. You’re too good for someone like me, Donna. Now I’ve gone and ruined it
all with that thing on your arm.”
Donna
looked at the mark again, felt it throb in time with a heartbeat that was not
her own. They hugged for a long time, the older girl resting her head in Sara’s
lap, black claws stroking blonde hair. At that moment, the Demon Princess felt
infinitely old, the weight of the universe bending her back, dragging down on
her hand as it ran along each silken chord, all 892 of them splayed out over
tanned skin.
#
Both
girls were too choked up to talk for most of the drive back to Whateley. Donna
made a call to Dr. Otto to inform him of the change of plans. Sara noted
mentally that more than 2000 white lines had been painted on the road before
she could stop herself. It wasn’t that she was counting, her brain just
automatically knew. Revs, kilometres, miles, metres, feet, wind speed,
temperature, everything that could be measured and classified, she found the
numbers and patterns lying with easy reach of her brain. Heartbeats. Donna’s
heartbeat was elevated. Her blood pressure and slight increase in temperature
were normal effects of a heightened state of arousal…
She
didn’t want to think about that. “I need you to do me a favour.”
“Anything.”
Donna smiled.
Sara
sighed, “I need information on Dad. I’ve tried libraries, I’ve re-started
obtaining books for my collection, but there’s only so much available to me as
a Freshman. If you could nose about for me, let me know what you can find.”
She
nodded pensively, “Shouldn’t be a problem. It’ll have to be outside work…”
“Whenever
you find the time,” Sara waved airily, “Dad hasn’t been in any rush to talk to
me.”
“It
is hard to reach someone across dimensional barriers, Sara. I’m sure he’s…”
“Donna,”
Sara interrupted, “I’ve been a Demon Princess for almost a month now and I
already have one friend who I can entrust with any task, no matter how enormous
or trivial. How many do you think my father has by now?”
They
were quiet for a very long time.
“Is
that all I am?”
Sara
looked over at her, watching the renewed tears streak down her face.
“Am
I always just going to be a friend?”
“No
‘just’, Doctor Donna Bell, Disciple of Kellith, Daughter of the Eternal Void,”
Sara whispered, “I am so sorry that I got you involved, I can’t begin to say…”
“Haven’t
you been listening? I want to be involved. What was I to you? Just a Foster
Mother? A step along the road?”
“You
don’t mean that.”
They
were silent again for a while.
“Make
no mistake, Donna. I love you. I loved you enough to try to keep you away from what
I’m going to become in the end. But it was… too much to let you go completely.
I think that’s what brought us here. I am a Demon Princess, Donna, for better
or worse I am on the wrong side of natural law. I will be hunted by the good
and by the evil. The only thing that will keep me alive in the end is the love
of people like you. I know your attracted to me, everyone is. Gay, straight, as
far as I am concerned all distinctions fly out the window. Demons of Lust are
built to break down those barriers in your psyche, as am I. I’ve already… I…”
Sara
turned away from Donna’s glance as she felt her air run out. Taking a deep
breath, she started again, “I’ve made love once since my transformation, with a
girl who’s problems seemed so similar to mine that we shared a bond greater
than just the one night. Afterwards, I panicked. I started thinking, what if I
make love with someone and they get pregnant? You said it before, in this very
car, who knows what can happen in the interactions of mutants? And I’m not even
human. I have a feeling, a deep and abiding feeling, that if I chose I could
impregnate someone… or become pregnant myself. And if I did, if in the heat of
the moment I did… what would it be like? Would it even be human? Of course it
wouldn’t. Who on Earth could know what my offspring will look like? That’s why
I can’t… not to you, not yet. Maybe, one day. When I know… when I know my baby
wouldn’t kill you.”
Donna
reached out and put her hand on Sara’s knee, sharing her warmth. Sara was
grateful that she was there for her now, and would be for the rest of her life.
The warmth lessened the pain.
“One
other thing,” Sara grinned, “be sure to make up with Nathan, ok? He’s a good
man.”
Neither
girl could stop themselves from laughing for the rest of the journey home.
#
Monday 16th, October 2006, 11:36
Groaning
with frustration, Sara threw her bag onto the floor, startling her caged dog.
It started on a barking jag, padding round and round in circles trying to find
a way out of its cage. As always, people stared at the Kimba table, mainly
because of her. The sight of bricks and other mutants eating amounts as copious
as Tennyo or Hank were normal, heck some even had to chew on mineral deposits
to keep up their intake. Live food, however, was generally not on the menu.
Live food that barked before it was eaten was even rarer, so far she was the
only gourmet.
“Where
have you been? We’ve been worried sick!” Jade smiled with relief.
“It
wouldn’t be so hard if they could get my timetable straight. I had to haemorrhage
Genetics and Bio this morning so I could keep Powers Theory and Costume Design.
Shugendo says it’s lucky I’m taking the night classes, because I’ll have enough
credits not to have to repeat. It seems that, while I may be the best student
the science department’s ever had, there isn’t enough time for me be spread
over so many topics. I wish I had your power, Jade, I really do. What I could
do if there were two of me running around.”
The
little girl’s eye twitched, “Um, my power’s not that great.”
That
made Sara pause. She patted the little girl’s shoulder and took her hand,
squeezing it under the desk, “You’ll be just fine, you hear me? Now, come on,
I’ve had enough doom and gloom today… speaking of the remedy for that, here’s
Chaka.”
The
black girl hopped over the chair, trey held in one hand, “Someone order a
pick-me-up?”
Jade
was smiling again, distracted for long enough that she barely noticed Sara
disintegrate the dog. It was better that she get it over with before Fey turned
up, the elfin mage was very sensitive when it came to the destruction of souls,
even those as small as an animal’s. Her wincing and gagging would have been
more than Sara could stand at that moment.
As
the group gathered, Sara found herself doing what she usually did when the
group was together, blending into the background and watching events unfold at
their own pace, letting the conversation sweep her up while remaining a
spectator to the proceedings. Crystal Hall was, as always, a riot of lights,
colour, activity and noise. There was so much going on that, for a moment, all
the data was jumbled up in the confusion.
Chaka
was having 1457 grains of sugar in her coffee, boosting herself up after a late
night studying English.
Thousands
of such useless facts assaulted Sara’s mind if she even spared them a moment’s
indulgence. 1457 grains, for example, was twice the sugar intake Chaka had
indulged herself in yesterday. Several days before, she had used a teabag with
562 ground leaves in it.
I am so fucked up, Sara thought to herself as her friends re-fortified
themselves for the difficult lessons ahead.
After
lunch, as usual, Sara walked with Jinn and Fey to Powers Lab, dreading another
45 minutes of psi testing. The Demon Princess kept quiet as always while Fey
and Jade nattered on about inanities that teenage girls like to talk about.
Mentally, she slapped herself. That wasn’t the way she wanted to think. They
were her friends now, and in case you haven’t noticed, you’re not exactly
mature yourself anymore.
It
was so hard to believe that just two days before they’d been fighting for their
lives in the streets of Boston. Or that yesterday Donna had confessed to her. Time was
just flying past, would she wake up one day and wonder where the time had gone and
the little girl next to her would be nothing but dust and ashes? It wasn’t a
pleasant thought.
“HEY!
Sara!”
Sara
shook herself, “Sorry?”
Jinn
twirled around her twice before landing back to the earth, “You’re not still
letting this morning get you down, are you?”
The
demon put on her best false smile, chuckling, “No, no. It’s a bit of a relief,
really. I’ve just got a lot of things to think about.”
“How’s
powers training going?” Fey inquired.
Now, why would you like to know that? Sara thought sarcastically. Out
loud, she said, “Not as well as I’d like. I’m up to five feet on Telepathy and
Empathy and 5lbs on Kinesis, which is putting me on Psi 1 for the moment, on
the other hand, my saving grace is control apparently. Ms. Bohn’s amazed that I
don’t have the raw power I should. Other than that, despite being rated at
Shifter 4, I can’t seem to do anything big other than form these darn tentacles
yet. Besides, she’s stuck me on Telepath training for the foreseeable future,
apparently I can’t do anything else until I get my Psi stuff under full
control. Forty minutes of trying to guess what stupid shape’s on the card the
other guy’s looking at.”
Sara
jumped as she felt a hand grasp her shoulder tightly. Turning her head, she
found Fey looking back at her, “It’s ok. I know your frustrated, but these
things just take time.”
Nodding
silently, Sara stepped into the auditorium, steeling herself for another game
of ‘Guess the Card’.
#
“And
this afternoon’s subject, Divination.”
Sara
groaned, holding her face in her hands as Mrs. Chulkris scratched and squeaked
the topic onto the blackboard with chalk. Unlike the Science dept., the
Department of Thurmaturgy occupied an old wing in which the blackboards had not
yet been replaced with whiteboards and ink markers. They claimed that it was
because of a lack of funds that the blackboards hadn’t been replaced, but Sara
suspected that the teachers were just sadistic.
“What’s
up?” Chaka lent back on her chair.
“Ten
to one we’re doing the Tarot,” Sara whispered back.
Chaka
grinned, “No bet.”
Mrs.
Chulkris turned back to the class, “We’ll start out with the Tarot…”
“You
must be psychic,” Fey teased.
Sara
had to fight the urge to say ‘bite me’. Actually, she sort of wished Fey would.
“…Sara,
what can you tell the class about Divination?”
Sara
blinked, “Uh, me, Miss?”
“Yes,
Ms. Waite. You. If you could tell the class a little bit about how it works,
please.”
Stunned,
Sara closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to gather her thoughts.
“Divination is the ability to tell the future or to find a person or object
using items that resonate with the subject or by manipulating energies
connected with the subject. Divination is different from Precognition because
of its reliance on these energies. Divining Rods are a good example of this,
not just any forked stick will work, the rod must be specially prepared to find
water and a mystically sensitive individual is required to use it
successfully.”
“Very
good. Now, in this framework, how do you explain the Tarot or Palmistry?”
“Both
require the person to be present when one does the reading,” Sara sighed,
“astral energies expand out into ‘strings’ or ‘threads’, forming an extremely
complex pattern of connections and relationships that ignore space and time.
Theoretically, when one draws a card from the Tarot, their life pattern
resonates with the card connected to that particular fate, thus predicting the
event. Unfortunately, the Tarot cannot give specific details on what will
happen or when, only gross generalizations, which is why it is mostly used as a
tool for con artists.”
“Excellent,
Ms. Waite. Now, we are lucky to have in this class a skilled Diviner who may be
persuaded to give us a demonstration. Gypsy, why don’t you come down the front here.
Sara, you too since you’re doing so well so far.”
Chaka
and Nikki gave the demon a sympathetic glance. Sara cursed herself inwardly as
she walked up to Earth Mother’s desk for breaking the golden rule: Never stick
your neck out.
Because
it will be chopped off.
Glancing
back at her companion in torment, Gypsy only bore the most superficial
resemblance to her flamboyant namesake. Obviously of European descent, her
hair, dull black and lifeless, curled very slightly as it feathered her
shoulders, full lips pulled into a tight, flat, spurious smile as she hugged an
antique wooden box to her chest, which might have been ample if it wasn’t
concealed by the baggy sweater she wore under her blazer.
The
girl avoided meeting anyone’s gaze as she sat at Mrs. Chulkris’ desk while Sara
took a chair opposite. Chulkris motioned for the others to come closer and
gather around where they could see while Sara watched Gypsy unpack her Tarot
deck carefully and lovingly, trying to ignore the noise around her.
“An
ancestral Tarot,” Sara identified the deck of cards, “handed down from mother
to daughter for, what, hundreds of years? You are the real deal, aren’t you, my
dear?”
Gypsy
blushed, her voice creaking out in a low whisper, “H-how do you…”
“I
read a lot.” Sara winked at her, then raised her voice, “Anyone here know what
the true test is of wether a Diviner is the real thing or not?”
The
answer came back as a general ‘No’ from the crowd, Mrs. Chulkris watching
intently from the sidelines.
“Gypsy,”
Sara tried to flash her a friendly smile, but it’s hard to do when you have
fangs, “I would like an open draw, one card only.”
She
nodded, focusing as she shuffled the deck, then carefully placed the deck in
the centre of the table. Sara smiled and reached out, sliding the top card off
and flipping it over. The crowd gasped as the face was revealed, a lurid design
of intertwined bodies bound in lust and pain, ruled by a goat-headed puppetmaster
on a throne of skulls and blood.
“The
Devil,” Gypsy echoed the card’s caption, “a sure sign of demonic influence and
dark magic. Disaster follows you like an asp ready to strike… NO!”
Sara
had reached out and just touched the next card when Gypsy came halfway out of
her seat. It was too late, Sara flipped the next card. Then the next, then the
next, then the next. Each time, the Devil’s leering face stared back at her.
Gypsy started wringing her hands, “Please stop, you’ll make it mad…”
Sara
smiled, apologizing to the deck as she replaced the cards face down on top,
then turned to the boy standing next to her, “Care to take the card off the
top, pretty please?”
Under
the intense pressure of her smile, the boy reached out and flipped over the top
card without thinking. The crowd’s shout of surprise was almost deafening as
the card came up as the Three of Wands. It took Mrs. Chulkris a moment to
settle them all down, shouting over the din. Gypsy grabbed the deck and
clutched it to her chest again, stroking and soothing it as if it were a live
animal.
“Sorry
about that,” Sara lent forward to apologize, “but I had to know if you really
were the real thing.”
“I…
er…” Gypsy stuttered, shoulders shrinking inward.
“I
was talking to the cards.” Sara grinned.
The
other girl blinked.