Prologue: The Thirteenth Dillemma
BANG!
The frigid air blew hard against the shutters of a high rise French restaurant in the heart of London England. The young waitress looked up suddenly from her monthly tabloid in surprise as the maple shades slammed against the window. She cursed softly to herself before turning back to the latest Brangelina baby rumor. Normally she would have been serving a full house on a Saturday night but lately the weather had been so drab that people didn't much feel like going out. The dreary skies had threatened rain for a fortnight but had so far only succeeded in making things foggy, gray and gloomy.
The waitress looked up as she heard the elevator ping as it reached her floor. She watched as the shiny gold doors opened to reveal a man dressed in a black coat with a black hood obscuring his face completely. The waitress quickly stowed her magazine and straitened herself up to greet the potential customer.
"Welcome to the Le Petit Château, mousier." She greeted in a practiced fake French accent. "How may I help you this afternoon?"
"Hello, I would like to make reservations for lunch this afternoon." The stranger spoke in an icy soft voice. "For a large party." The waitress shivered subconsciously at the man's tone. It felt like he had reached into her chest and grabbed her heart with a fist made of ice.
"V-very well sir. How large is the party?" she asked rather quickly.
"Thirteen in all." He replied in the same bone chilling tone.
"Of course. May I have your name please?"
The man was silent for a second. The he reached in his coat and the girl heard a clinking sound. For a second, she was afraid he was going to pull a gun on her but was relieved when he produced a fistful of something instead.
"I'd rather remain anonymous." He said before dropping a handful of gold coins on top of the register. The girl blinked a few times at the sight of solid gold coins rolling off the counter and onto her lap. This man was getting stranger and stranger with every passing second.
"Very well, Mr. Smith. We'll have a table set up in the main dining…"
"Actually, do you have anywhere a bit more…private? I have a rather important business meeting and I'd like not to be disturbed." He said, dropping a few more coins on the desk. For good measure.
"Erm…yes. We have a party room in the back that's really very lov…"
"May I see it?" he interrupted
"Err…right. Um, I'll just get you settled in then." She said stepping out from behind the counter and motioning for the man to follow her. She led him past dozens of white linen clothed tables and into a private room in the back with a pair of double doors opening to reveal a long table with roughly room for fourteen.
"As you can see this is a very nice…"
"Do these doors close?" the man asked shortly
"Well…yes." She replied.
"Good." He said taking a seat at the head of the table. "You may leave now. Send in eight soups of the day and a few bottles of wine. Some '78 Merlot if you please."
"Only eight soups sir?" the girl asked.
The man turned his cloaked head in her direction in silence. The girl nodded and scurried off to the kitchen. The man in the cloak quietly got up and closed the doors behind her. Then, turning back to the table, he waved his hand and several weapons suddenly appeared. Then, with another flick of the wrist, they flew around the table and seated themselves in five of the thirteen spots. Present were a tomahawk, a shield, a pair of throwing knives, a katana and finally a large pink scythe. The man then sat back at the head on the table just as the waitress came in balancing the French onion soup on a tray.
"Kindly place them in the eight empty seats." The man said. The girl looked warily at the weapons but did as she was told. Finally she uncorked the wine and set it in front of the man. Not wanting to linger any longer in the presence of the strange man, she quickly returned to the kitchen.
As soon as she left and the doors were closed again, eight swirling pools of darkness opened in the walls. The man looked up to see six dark cloaked figures emerge from the darkness.
"Welcome my friends." The man said, rising to greet them and removing his hood. "Please, have a seat." The six new arrivals murmured greetings before removing their own hoods and taking their seats around the table. "Are we all here?" He asked, sitting down.
"Number two here." The man to the leader's left drawled in a Californian surfer tone. He was an older man with a patch over his left eye and a scar running down his face.
"Three is present, Superior." The man to the Superior's right muttered, pushing his dark black hair out of his harsh looking face.
"Seven." The man who was seated three seats down from Three replied. He wore his blue hair long and an X shaped scar rested between his eyes
"Yeah, yeah. Eight here." The man to Seven's right said, running a hand through his firy red spiked hair
"Nine too!" The next man said. Blonde hair framed a pale, mousy face that appeared to be the most cheerful at the table
"Ten is here" Nine's neighbor said. The man also had blonde hair but wore it very short with a moustache and beard to match.
"And Number One is here, presiding." The first man finished. The man had long grey hair and a harsh face set with reddish eyes. "I apologize that we have to meet under these conditions but seeing as how we have lost one stronghold already and don't want to risk another, I'm afraid this will have to do." One poured himself a glass of red wine then passed the bottle down the table.
"As you can see we have some missing faces." One gestured to the seats with the weapons. "I regret to inform you that Numbers Four, Five, Eleven and Twelve perished in the fiasco at Castle Oblivion." The men around the table murmured amongst themselves before One restored order by raising his hands.
"What of Number Six?" Seven asked, noting the empty slot beside him.
"He managed to slip into the darkness when his foe believed him dead." There was a murmur of excitement around the table. "He is recovering strength at our stronghold and soon he will be ready to carry out our future plans."
"Do we have any leads on the location of the Keymaster?" Three asked.
"Alas, no. While we may not have ultimately succeeded, his memories are still in shards. Based on the information that Number Seven has delivered to us," One inclined his glass in a toast to the blue haired man. "We believe that the witch is trying to piece his heart back together. Where they are, we do not yet know."
"If I may, Superior?" Ten asked from his seat down the table. One nodded. "I can't help but notice that Thirteen is absent form our ranks today yet he survived the attack on the Castle."
"Ahh yes. It seems we are down a member. Any insight to as where he might be, Number Eight?"
Eight scratched his head and moved his soup around with his spoon. "I…I…I don't know where he is. I can't sense him anymore."
"He cut and run…" Ten said, sipping his soup.
"Shut up!" Eight yelled getting to his feet with clenched fists.
"Gentlemen, please!" One said standing up. "We don't have time to bicker amongst ourselves. I called you all here today to determine the future of the Organization." Eight threw another nasty look at a smirking Number Ten before taking his seat again.
Silence. "Can I have his soup then?" Nine piped up from his spot between his arguing collegues. One rolled his eyes before giving the go ahead for Nine to slurp the soup down hungrily.
"As I was saying." One continued. "The reason I brought you here to this city in this world is because I believe that there is a boy here who may be of great use to us. Now as you are all aware of the backup plan that was made in case the group at Castle Oblivion should fail or, as it turns out, meet a unfortunate end." One waited to see the assembled party nod in agreement. "Then you must also be aware of the pieces we need. A host of hearts is nothing without the basic structure of the shape it will take." Another murmur of agreement.
"So you found the Gatekeepers?" Nine asked.
"One of the gatekeepers. One in this world and one in another world similar to this one." The others were listening avidly to One's speech. "It seems that they have even met before."
"Then why hasn't it started to form?" Eight spoke up.
"Something happened and they were forced apart. Some celestial being wised up to our intentions and separated them under some false story about how the Dust would flow away if they didn't separate the worlds…"
"Dust?" Three asked.
"It's a term used to describe the purest essence of light collected into tiny particles." One explained.
"So how did they catch wind of our scheme?" Eight asked.
"The door was beginning to form. Being a creature of light, she sensed the encroaching darkness and took steps to prevent it." One drained his glass of wine and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "No matter. We have our own means of achieving our goals, do we not? So here's the plan; Numbers Eight and Nine will collect the Gatekeepers and return with them to our world. After they fulfill their purpose, we will eliminate them and make their hearts the first offering to the door. Agreed?"
"Sir!" the others replied.
"Good." One rose to leave. "Xigbar." He said, addressing number Two by name. "I seem to have forgotten my wallet at home. Could you handle this?"
Xigbar smirked. "I get ya. Leave it to me."
"Well then I'll see you all back at the castle." One said. With that, six portals opened and the cloaked figures disappeared.
Xigbar strolled up to the desk where the girl was snapping her gum noisily. "So will that be cash, check or credit?" she said, ringing up their total.
"Bullet." Xigbar responded with the hint of a smirk.
"I'm sorry?" the girl asked.
Xigbar held up a hand and dark energy collected in it. It swirled and condensed until it took the shape of a small cross bow with a glowing red arrow tip. Before the girl could cry out, Xigbar unloaded an electrified pink round in the poor girl's chest. She slumped over as thirty five million volts of electricity coursed through her heart, killing her instantly. Xigbar chuckled to himself as he made for the door. On his way, he stopped to wave at the security camera before summoning a dark cloud and disappearing in the shadows.
The police arrived on the scene some thirty minutes later to find the girl dead. They combed the restaurant but were unable to find any evidence. The chefs said that she had asked for eight onion soups and then she disappeared. The video tape also proved unsettling. The tape revealed the girl looking up suddenly and talking to a patch of thin air, asking the empty space its name was and then leading it off camera. About forty minutes later she looks up again and asks the empty space how it wants to pay. She then slumps over dead for no apparent reason. Nobody was ever charged with the crime.
Nobody committed it...
So, this is DOTMW original first chapter, don't review this and say I did "A great job."
I didn't write this, the next chapter belongs to ME! Only after "Nobody Committed..." it is what I own.
Philip Pullman owns the His Dark Materials series, (I wish I did...) so I will not make Lyra and Will get together in a real book, even if I want to.
