Chapter Two - The Society
The Society did not welcome guests.
Drifting through the halls, the Night Dweller picked out his way to the third-floor suites, where his own rooms were situated. He crossed a few shady figures on his path but none made any sign of acknowledgement. The Night Dweller preferred it that way. No-one here had any room for a conscience.
One of his agents had recently been assigned the target and was waiting for him now. This one had proved particularly… interesting. He was useful of course; very good at his job. But not without his share of controversy. And the Society had no use for those talented few that don't know when to draw the line…
The Night Dweller passed into his study.
A young man stood on the other side of the room, a respectful distance from the antique bureau. He straightened his back as the Night Dweller approached but remained silent. (You may at this point wonder why an agent would be left unguarded in a superior's study. Well it is important to know that it does not do to linger in these corridors. And if, by chance, one of these agents should mislay their eyes on any unauthorised information, it becomes clear that they are very, very expendable…)
Gloom had settled nicely as a charcoal veil, oppressing both the furniture and the characters. Not much was usually seen of the agent but a chink of evening light shone through one of the heavily curtained windows and illuminated an ornate blue and gold ring on his sword hand.
The dead air was disturbed by the low, one-sided conversation of the agent. His voice was quick and muted, filling the silence with the current status of his mission.
"Yes, the plans are now in motion and I have made contact with the subject… Yes. She seems young, more so than I expected; probably capable of making a stand if it came to it. But nothing that should prevent a successful outcome and certainly nothing I haven't dealt with before… The glyph, if she has it, has not yet been revealed and I am disinclined to trespass upon Hollowkin House due to the resident Domovoi and the fact she may have other guards in place. I believe I have intrigued her sufficiently and she will contact me of her own accord… Very good. I shall inform you of any progress shortly."
The helical staircase wound several flights in both directions but none could surpass its majesty. Cimmerian shade dwelt at both ends; casting the building into perpetual nothingness, save for the occasional candle that stood watch. Beneath his fingertips, the smooth wood of the banister held testimony to the countless other beings that had passed this way; some no longer with us. It was unfortunate but time moves on and spent memories have no place among the Society.
As the agent swiftly descended the steps, he passed several tapestries in succession. They depicted great scenes of battle and glory, woven with gold thread and illuminated by the flickering lights as moths swirled round, soundless creatures flitting in the gloom. He passed the second floor before promptly disappearing into the archway where the spiral ended.
These halls were no more inviting than the last but you could breathe easier all the same. The lobby was quiet for the present time and the agent had no intentions to stay so he made for the only passage down to the ground floor. However, it was only as he passed the front desk that he was hailed by the receptionist.
"Ah, Mr Barrowford?"
The agent bowed his head.
"I prefer Mr Catafalque. Barrowford is my family name."
"Very well," The blonde changeling smiled efficiently,
"I have some correspondence that you must sign. It concerns certain expenditures."
Ciaran stepped forward and briefly noted the contents. With a wry expression, he acknowledged the expense for the valuable stained glass window that had exploded upon impact with Priest Michelangelo. The mission had proved very fruitful. Then he embossed the receipt with his family crest and without another word, strode out to the balustrade. Two sweeping staircases sprouted from here yet he would only use the left hand one. In a place like this, people were mindful of the rules.
That was when he heard it.
The sudden shouting jolted him out of his thoughts. The pitiful assertions of the man betrayed his lack of any acuity. Human. He could tell. It wasn't long before the source came into sight. Young male. Average height. Considerable vocal chords. Someone would have to silence him before any unwanted attention was received upon the establishment. He was kicking out against two of the henchmen, appropriately attired for the evening. It seemed he was an unknown; wrong place, wrong time. Pity.
Looking down at the façade, Ciaran looked on at the spectators in the game as he proceeded noiselessly to the foot of the stairs. It was then that the protests deformed into shrieks as he passed through the bar of the gentleman's club. Some watched; some carried on their conversation; some showed no interest at all.
And as the door opened wide unto the sharp night air, the screams intensified into primal howls. From underneath the staircase, a gateway opened into blackness and the man was dragged under…
Ciaran stepped out of the lamplight and was swallowed by the darkness. He kept a steady pace; soundless footsteps chanting a tattoo. The only distinguishable thing that kept him from believing he was dead was the receding commotion from The Private Gentleman's Club.
Then all of a sudden, there was silence.
The Society did not welcome guests.
The mission trickled in and out of his head, internal musings along the lines of his objectives. The facts were crystal clear. Obtain knowledge of the glyph and its whereabouts. Proceed to Phase Two.
Chalice herself assured him of his advantage. Smaller and slighter, he knew he could control the situation. Whatever she planned, whoever she might conspire with, he could out-think it all. After all, hadn't that been what his life revolved around? Being briefed on the facts; journeying to the target and following through… Success was all he knew.
Yet she had not been without her intrigue. The simple shocking colour of her hair had momentarily stunned him; he had not been informed very thoroughly of her personal features. But the appearance of an albino was a momentary distraction. She meant nothing to him.
Neither did her coldness, for he was certain of his effect. In a way, from the moment he saw her, he knew she would present a novel challenge. Chalice was not going to give up her game and he respected that. The idea of chasing shadows in Pendle appealed to him, even if only until the game was won.
Ciaran loped across the pasture in the blue dark, tracing ley-ways deep in the earth. It made him feel like he was just another footprint, another star up there in space but then he remembered from whence he came. And although he only had a few pieces, they kept him together.
As he looked up at the distant huddle of buildings, he found his mind was on Chalice once more. It wasn't that she was a complex character to solve: he had faced many foes in greater trepidation and reigned victorious over all. But this witch, the last witch known to history, could hold some further interest: and it may just be that she was pretty.
But he forced such musings from his head and turned up his collar. He would not relive those fleeting chapters again. The Society had ultimate control over his dealings so it would do no good to meddle where he was not permitted to go.
Above him, the stars shone bright, much the same as Italy. There had been many a night spent on rooftops, away from the mundanity of ordinary lives. Yet the smell of old English soil had called him alway from overseas. The forests and the night were different, maybe only in a way he understood. Now he took a deep breath and it tasted like home.
Before he could count the steps he'd taken, he was home. His lodgings were as you'd expect on this side of town: nondescript and ramshackle, with furnishings that had never left the room. Mrs Hoarstone, the landlady, had ill taste but Ciaran was not one to notice tonight. With a heavy sigh, he stepped wearily out of his shoes and fell back onto his bed. In thirty seconds, he was asleep.
Author's Note: I am extremely sorry for the really slow update and hopefully I can convince you as to excuse me of any abuse ;) One: I have had two really big exams that have needed constant attention in order for me to get anywhere near a pass. Two: We're back at school now, as opposed to during the holidays when I made my first instalments. Three: I find it really difficult to ever get past the first chapter in any story that I write. I always have a beginning and an end, but the middle, where all the action and actual plot is supposed to go… It never happens. I get bored. And I know that if I write down any old thing and update it, you're not going to be happy and I'm not going to be happy. I want to update something that people will actually want to read. So although this isn't my favourite instalment so far, I hope it works for everyone
(P.S. If you were reading this before the 14th April 2013 then I have made minor edits to the second Prologue and Chapter One. They're worth checking out for reasons I cannot explain just yet. Yes, this is a repeat comment from Chapter One, directed at themockingjayxx and happydaze and whoever else deigned to read this.)
