Cyrene woke with a purpose, ignoring the fact that was 3 in the morning. She slipped into the hall and listened hard for Liam. Snores came from his room. Like any sensible person he was asleep. Good. She didn't want to wake him. He'd stop her.
She closed the door to her room, grabbed a small wingless ceramic gargoyle from her trunk and placed it in the center of her bed to face the door.
~~Watch the door for me Great-Flyer. I'll need the protection .~~ It's eyes glowed red in response. She took the Art from the trunk and flipped to what had been her first spell. She paused, studying it.
{I can't. Not without letting someone know first. But I have to know what's happening. Why I was sent there? And that Echo.... I HAVE to know. } She licked her lips nervously. As an afterthought, she put on her robe; the same cobalt blue as the nightgown she wore, with beige trim on the sleeves and edges of pockets. {Can't show up to wherever it is half-naked.}. She took a deep breath, steadied her mind and began the spell. Everything was just as she remembered it. The words were the same ~~take me where I'm needed~~, the inrush of air, the sudden blackness, the freezing cold, and then the arrival.
**********************************************************************
Liam's eyes had opened the moment his senses recognized magic at work. He lay in bed for some minutes, listening to the spell, counting to 20 as he heard her leave. Only then did he bother getting up. Opening the door to her room, her faced the gargoyle. It's eyes glowed a bit stronger and it growled for a moment, before returning to it's watchful state. It saw no harm in Liam. A sigh escaped the aging human.
"She's gone to where he wanted, didn't she?" He asked no one. Great-Flyer growled again, a different kind of noise. Liam nodded. He sat on the bed beside the ceramic statue. He saw the Art resting between them, open to the transport spell. Even now, they were all just shining scribbles.
"Great Powers watch over her. I won't lose her too."
**********************************************************************
He was young, about 20, handsome, with trimmed hair and a twinkle in the eyes that reminded her of Dumbledore from the old Harry Potter series. He wore clothes of a rich, colorful fabric. A childish grin creased his face In a sweeping glance he took in this young woman in nightclothes and spoke in a voice as soft as his hair.
"You've made it. I had expected a countryman of course, but beggars can't be choosy can they?"
Countryman? He spoke English with England's voice. Was she in England? She looked towards the river. The Seine. She was in France?! Cyrene's mind spun. But, she was American. Then again she had said, where she was needed. She was needed here. For what?
"I..I am sorry that I'm not of your country, but I will do what I can to help. "
"Wonderful, wonderful. Ah, well, introductions first of course. My name is Alexandre. And you?'
"Cyrene."
"Very good to see you. Well, come on in will you?" He turned and walked towards the house. She noticed that the joyful bounce in his step was forced.
Cyrene had never been rich. She had never wanted to be. A cot, a roof over her head, and a place to put her artifacts and books was the most she'd ever thought of. Alexandre's place changed her mind. Large windows let in more sunlight than she knew existed, the floors were real wood (A/N: There is such a thing as plastic wood) the curtains were lace and cloths of gold and greens and blues. The walls were a mixture of all these and and then some, with some colors dominating in certain rooms. He led her through an immense hall and into a room painted blue with white and gold trim. Armchairs, a chaise lounge, and a couch faced each other, and an oak bench sat beside a grand piano. It was the kind of place people named.
"It's called Sûr Eu." Alexandre responded.
"''Safe Haven.' It's nice." He waved her into an armchair and took the one across. Cyrene sank into the cushions of the chair, suddenly very much aware of her not-quite poor status and nearly non-existent array of manners.
A woman with short brown hair and a simple dress followed them into the room. To Cyrene she looked to be 35 going on one hundred. Burns stood out on her skin, but she took it in stride. She spoke to Alexandre in a rapid version of an version of French the American had never bothered to learn. Her host translated. "Marie would like to know if she can interest you in something to eat or drink?"
Cyrene searched her mind for how to answer that question. It had been a while since any stranger had asked it. "Water" seemed safest.
"What about food?"
"I'm...umm..not hungry."
"No no I insist." He rattled off a set of instructions to Marie, who said something back and left.
{Please, please, please} "don't tell me you sent for a someone to keep you company."
Alexandre's face grew somber for a second. "Well no. A matter of fact I want to talk to you about something else."
"What?"
The young man hesitated. Looked around with fear marring the handsome features. He leaned close. For some reason, that made her heart start beating a bit faster, but she kept a serious face. After all, this was serious wasn't it. Her host seemed to be searching for the right words.
"I...there's...I'm being..." a long pause and then words came tumbling out of him. "A while back I was...possessed I think is the word..."
"The Horla."
"You know about it?"
"I've read a casebook about it. " It was less embarrassing than saying she'd read his diary.
Alexandre's mood lifted. So did Cyrene's heart, much as she tried to stop it. "Well, than you know about what It does."
"I know. How it took over, caused you to do things you didn't want, burned your house, how you tried to..."
"How I tried to kill my-self. That was It's idea too. It wants to destroy, It lives for it." He looked around again and continued. "After I tried...after It tried to kill me. I was sent to a hospital. Spent about two years there. When the doctors determined I was recovered, they allowed for my release. I searched for any servants that may have survived the fire. Few had, and even fewer wanted to work for a madman. Marie is the only one who was willing to come back. I moved here, far away from the old place, where I wouldn't be known. I hired new staff. Not many of course, a groom, a gardner and a cook are the only other ones here. And Marie to keep them in line." It was strange how his smile made the bright sunlight seem bearable. "Through all this time It never returned. Not even a hint. I'm convinced that It was gone. I'd even dared to hope that It had died in that fire.
"Three months ago, I dreamt. It came into my room, stared down at me as I lay there. There was hatred there. No. It was more than hatred, but I don't know what else to call it. It's hands reached out. It tried to choke me. Since than, I can feel It trying to come back. It's weaker than it was, perhaps my fire did affect It, but It's determined to return. I entrusted Marie the next morning with my secret, with the truth about It. She has a family history it seems in...errr...what you do. She said there were spells other people could do, to call for help from one of you. She taught it to me, and I've been using it for about a month. And now..here you are." He finished and leaned back in his chair as if a great wait had been lifted from his shoulders.
Cyrene sat, stunned. She knew now why she was here. She was the youngest wizard (or rather pre-wizard) available. The youngest held the most power. She had been called here to defeat the Horla.
She closed the door to her room, grabbed a small wingless ceramic gargoyle from her trunk and placed it in the center of her bed to face the door.
~~Watch the door for me Great-Flyer. I'll need the protection .~~ It's eyes glowed red in response. She took the Art from the trunk and flipped to what had been her first spell. She paused, studying it.
{I can't. Not without letting someone know first. But I have to know what's happening. Why I was sent there? And that Echo.... I HAVE to know. } She licked her lips nervously. As an afterthought, she put on her robe; the same cobalt blue as the nightgown she wore, with beige trim on the sleeves and edges of pockets. {Can't show up to wherever it is half-naked.}. She took a deep breath, steadied her mind and began the spell. Everything was just as she remembered it. The words were the same ~~take me where I'm needed~~, the inrush of air, the sudden blackness, the freezing cold, and then the arrival.
**********************************************************************
Liam's eyes had opened the moment his senses recognized magic at work. He lay in bed for some minutes, listening to the spell, counting to 20 as he heard her leave. Only then did he bother getting up. Opening the door to her room, her faced the gargoyle. It's eyes glowed a bit stronger and it growled for a moment, before returning to it's watchful state. It saw no harm in Liam. A sigh escaped the aging human.
"She's gone to where he wanted, didn't she?" He asked no one. Great-Flyer growled again, a different kind of noise. Liam nodded. He sat on the bed beside the ceramic statue. He saw the Art resting between them, open to the transport spell. Even now, they were all just shining scribbles.
"Great Powers watch over her. I won't lose her too."
**********************************************************************
He was young, about 20, handsome, with trimmed hair and a twinkle in the eyes that reminded her of Dumbledore from the old Harry Potter series. He wore clothes of a rich, colorful fabric. A childish grin creased his face In a sweeping glance he took in this young woman in nightclothes and spoke in a voice as soft as his hair.
"You've made it. I had expected a countryman of course, but beggars can't be choosy can they?"
Countryman? He spoke English with England's voice. Was she in England? She looked towards the river. The Seine. She was in France?! Cyrene's mind spun. But, she was American. Then again she had said, where she was needed. She was needed here. For what?
"I..I am sorry that I'm not of your country, but I will do what I can to help. "
"Wonderful, wonderful. Ah, well, introductions first of course. My name is Alexandre. And you?'
"Cyrene."
"Very good to see you. Well, come on in will you?" He turned and walked towards the house. She noticed that the joyful bounce in his step was forced.
Cyrene had never been rich. She had never wanted to be. A cot, a roof over her head, and a place to put her artifacts and books was the most she'd ever thought of. Alexandre's place changed her mind. Large windows let in more sunlight than she knew existed, the floors were real wood (A/N: There is such a thing as plastic wood) the curtains were lace and cloths of gold and greens and blues. The walls were a mixture of all these and and then some, with some colors dominating in certain rooms. He led her through an immense hall and into a room painted blue with white and gold trim. Armchairs, a chaise lounge, and a couch faced each other, and an oak bench sat beside a grand piano. It was the kind of place people named.
"It's called Sûr Eu." Alexandre responded.
"''Safe Haven.' It's nice." He waved her into an armchair and took the one across. Cyrene sank into the cushions of the chair, suddenly very much aware of her not-quite poor status and nearly non-existent array of manners.
A woman with short brown hair and a simple dress followed them into the room. To Cyrene she looked to be 35 going on one hundred. Burns stood out on her skin, but she took it in stride. She spoke to Alexandre in a rapid version of an version of French the American had never bothered to learn. Her host translated. "Marie would like to know if she can interest you in something to eat or drink?"
Cyrene searched her mind for how to answer that question. It had been a while since any stranger had asked it. "Water" seemed safest.
"What about food?"
"I'm...umm..not hungry."
"No no I insist." He rattled off a set of instructions to Marie, who said something back and left.
{Please, please, please} "don't tell me you sent for a someone to keep you company."
Alexandre's face grew somber for a second. "Well no. A matter of fact I want to talk to you about something else."
"What?"
The young man hesitated. Looked around with fear marring the handsome features. He leaned close. For some reason, that made her heart start beating a bit faster, but she kept a serious face. After all, this was serious wasn't it. Her host seemed to be searching for the right words.
"I...there's...I'm being..." a long pause and then words came tumbling out of him. "A while back I was...possessed I think is the word..."
"The Horla."
"You know about it?"
"I've read a casebook about it. " It was less embarrassing than saying she'd read his diary.
Alexandre's mood lifted. So did Cyrene's heart, much as she tried to stop it. "Well, than you know about what It does."
"I know. How it took over, caused you to do things you didn't want, burned your house, how you tried to..."
"How I tried to kill my-self. That was It's idea too. It wants to destroy, It lives for it." He looked around again and continued. "After I tried...after It tried to kill me. I was sent to a hospital. Spent about two years there. When the doctors determined I was recovered, they allowed for my release. I searched for any servants that may have survived the fire. Few had, and even fewer wanted to work for a madman. Marie is the only one who was willing to come back. I moved here, far away from the old place, where I wouldn't be known. I hired new staff. Not many of course, a groom, a gardner and a cook are the only other ones here. And Marie to keep them in line." It was strange how his smile made the bright sunlight seem bearable. "Through all this time It never returned. Not even a hint. I'm convinced that It was gone. I'd even dared to hope that It had died in that fire.
"Three months ago, I dreamt. It came into my room, stared down at me as I lay there. There was hatred there. No. It was more than hatred, but I don't know what else to call it. It's hands reached out. It tried to choke me. Since than, I can feel It trying to come back. It's weaker than it was, perhaps my fire did affect It, but It's determined to return. I entrusted Marie the next morning with my secret, with the truth about It. She has a family history it seems in...errr...what you do. She said there were spells other people could do, to call for help from one of you. She taught it to me, and I've been using it for about a month. And now..here you are." He finished and leaned back in his chair as if a great wait had been lifted from his shoulders.
Cyrene sat, stunned. She knew now why she was here. She was the youngest wizard (or rather pre-wizard) available. The youngest held the most power. She had been called here to defeat the Horla.