Zen Mountain Monastery is an actual place.
Any details or people are all fictional.
Depiction to any living or deceased is purely coincidental.
CHAPTER EIGHT…Storm Warning
"It's not the answer that enlightens,
but the question."
Eugene Ionesco
After being jarred awake from the Power flux, Sam confirmed that Ian was not in imminent danger after "touching" his aura. She reluctantly left her bed. Her stomach growled which was echoed by all of her Artifacts. If she was hungry, they were hungrier. They fed off her Power and energy. The earthen pitcher and basin were filled with fresh, jasmine scented water. Pulling off the coarse brown robe, she tossed it into a growing heap of clothes she had to take to the river to wash. Stripping down, she unenthusiastically soaked a sponge and gave her body a preliminary rinse. Next she took a 'home-made' disk of jasmine scented soap and lathered her face and body. Biting her lip, she took a larger cloth and rinsed off all the soap. If she hadn't known for a fact that the monastery had no electricity, she would have bet the Brothers kept the water in the freezer, as it was; her goose-bumps had goose-bumps. Once all the soap was removed she grabbed a large towel and wrapped it around her, took another towel and dried of various parts her body, rubbing vigorously to warm her frozen limbs. She pulled on her undergarments, relishing the feel of silk against her skin. Drawing out a clean and fresh delicate shift, she slipped it over her head. It was a buffer against the rough material of the monk's robes. She draped the towels near the firebox to dry; the water she poured out her window. She left her room and used the privy, cleaned her hands and headed for the kitchens. The birds were serenading the sun as it dipped below the horizon.
Dinner had been served over an hour ago, so she had to scrounge leftovers to tide her over till breakfast, midnight in China, and lunchtime in New York. Plans were beginning to come together in her mind to keep Irons distracted or at least busy so he shouldn't have time to notice that Ian was outgrowing him, let alone was more powerful. Sam considered her face-off with Evil.
Irons' aura and Evil's influence certainly explained a fair amount of Ian's lack of self esteem and self worth. She shook her head. Ian believed Irons to be his father. Ian's psyche was adamant about that fact. But, when she'd read Irons, he was no father but a slave master. Knowing the truth about Irons, what he had done to Ian's mother was unspeakable. Marrying the woman so he would have the child after he'd killed her, and to add insult to injury did not formally adopt Ian and give him the Irons name. Back then Irons could read power, the nature of Ian's bloodline or more likely, pliable personality. Irons indeed had sort of a bargain with Evil, but Sam was very certain Irons hadn't read the fine print and would be in for some unpleasant surprises.
Sam couldn't wait that long. Irons was truly a loathsome creature. She wanted to take him out and shoot him like a mad dog, like they did in Old Westerns; however, she had to follow new rules. She took a deep breath trying to draw upon one of the Buddhist Precepts, "actualize harmony-do not be angry." She slowly exhaled, calling upon another Buddhist Precept, "Proceed clearly-do not cloud the mind." Chiding herself about backsliding, she was still torn by her previous 'do what needed to be done' from her previous 'existence', to making peace and finding a solution that did not take life. A wicked smile graced her face, she may not kill him outright, but she could sure make his life inconvenient. I think I might like this job. She washed her dinner-ware and went to find the Master.
******
Ian pulled up to the Zen Mountain Monastery. The drive had been liberating, little traffic for a week day which was somewhat surprising. He had kept his mind clear, not wanting to think about facing Irons again, there was something he had noticed but wasn't sure what it meant. The cluster of black and grey pus-like goo near the center of Irons' heart had an eerie glow. And, he tried not to think about Sam, but small things would come to mind as he was driving. He wanted to tell her about the beauty, he stopped himself, that wasn't true, he wanted to show her. Sara was his priority, and Sam insisted that he remain true to his Destiny. It would be easier to remain true to his Destiny if Sara would show him a little respect or even say thank you after he'd given her information; information that would earn him the lash if Irons knew.
Spring was in the air. Wildflowers bent as he whipped past and the trees were getting their fresh green foliage. Above, the sky was as blue as a robin's egg, light fluffy clouds added to the tranquility. He pulled the black Porsche onto a gravel road, gritting his teeth every time he heard a ping against the car. A sign directed him to visitor's parking and he pulled into a nearly empty parking lot. The forest canopy gave the illusion of being in a magical land.
Two other cars, from out of state had been parked haphazardly, indicating they must have arrived when it was after dark and no lights to judge distances. The monastery was not only a place of enlightenment, but offered inexpensive rates to weary travelers. Ian studied both cars. A well worn station wagon had individual tape players, children's books and tapes littered the back, along with road trip bags of munchies. He could only imagine the havoc the parents must be having on this trip. He could almost hear the echoes of "he's touching me" and "are we there yet" resounding around the interior of the car. The second car was a well loved yellow Toyota Corolla. A backpack with college books spilled across the back seat. Up front were thick holders of music CDs, and this car had a different blend of road trip snack wrappers. Around him on three sides, he saw the lush forest, wildflowers had opened to greet the day and offer their sweet delights to bees and an occasional hummingbird. Facing north, a massive door had been set into the walls of stone. A dirt path went around the right side indicating there was an opening for vehicles to deliver necessities.
He drew close to the door and discovered he had to ring a large bell. He raised his eyebrow, bemused, picked up the heavy rope and gave a hard tug. It was a deep, bone vibrating pitch; he was surprised by its extraordinary volume. He waited a few minutes and he heard the slap of sandals on a cobblestone walk. A young man, barely nineteen, Ian guessed, pulled the massive door open and greeted Ian with a smile.
"Welcome sir," piped the dark haired man, "Do you come for rest or enlightenment?"
Ian had to suppress the smile that wanted to sneak across his face, instead he quietly replied, "I am looking for information and I was directed here." He gestured with his hands at the walled compound.
"Ah,"responded the eager novitiate, "Come in, would you like some refreshments while I find the Master to help you."
Ian was going to decline, but his stomach growled in response. Betrayed by his own body, Ian looked into the man's brown eyes, "Yes, I would greatly appreciate some refreshment."
The enthusiastic student smiled even wider, "Please come in, my name is Brother Jason, I will show you to our reflective garden and have something brought out for you. Is tea to your liking?"
Ian nodded as he entered, "Tea would be fine."
"Follow me please," said Jason. He led Ian through a beautifully kept and useful garden. Different variations of sage melded into beds of rosemary. Peppermint and spearmint had their own areas of the garden; a large Eucalyptus tree had a bed of pennyroyal winding by it and down one of the footpaths. Brother Jason had Ian take a seat under an ancient oak tree, overlooking the grounds that sprawled, with the mountains acting as a breathtaking backdrop. Jason disappeared for a few moments and came back with some tea, an assortment of muffins and fresh fruit. The muffins were still warm from the oven; their aroma reminded him how hungry he really was. Jason excused himself and went off to find his Master.
Since Ian remembered his little problem with Immo, he surreptitiously looked around to see if there were any cameras or possible bugs. He had time to consider the young man's aura as he peeled off the wrapper from the banana nut muffin. The novitiate's aura was awash with blues, sparks of silver and larger spots of red, coalescing around him was a faint white cloud. He was a good kid, Ian decided, and sunk his teeth into the moist, warm and delicious muffin. He closed his eyes; he had never had a chance to enjoy his food. Chewing slowly and relishing each crumb, he surmised the drugs they had been mixing in his food had been another way to dull his senses. After he finished the muffin, he poured himself a cup of tea. The tea was a combination of herbs that complimented the flavor of the fresh baked treat. The birds were singing, off in the distance he heard water running and remembered the monastery was built close to a river. He was enjoying a second cup of tea when a gray haired man came up the walk. Ian put his cup down, hastily wiped any crumbs off his beard and stood.
Ian extended his hand and gave the older man a sincere smile. The older man serenely smiled and accepted Ian's hand.
"I understand you are here seeking information." The Elder of the monastery was to the point, his grey eyes direct, studying Ian.
"Yes," Ian stated hesitantly, "I came to discover what the 'Pure Mystery' is?" He tried to pinpoint the Master's aura, but all he discerned was a thick heavy veil of white. When he tried to lock on to any feature, it was if his eyes had hit a slick and were diverted elsewhere.
The man's sudden bark of laughter took Ian by surprise. Ian wasn't sure how to respond.
The Master chuckled a moment and met Ian's eyes. "You know what it is son, and it will be up to you to help protect it." He noticed Ian's feeble attempts to 'read' him, but was not displeased; he considered Ian's effort as a student practicing a lesson. That was not the reason for his visit, and it was obvious that he would have his own tutor, the Master kept the smile from his face
Ian was baffled, how could he help protect what he did not know. More importantly how could he keep it out of Irons' grasp? "Does the 'Pure Mystery" have to do with Power?"
"That would be an understatement," the old man cocked his head, "You really have no clue?" The Elder read Ian's aura and realized what he had gone through; he also recognized the binding, which startled him. For someone to have such an intense bond to the Divine One, he is not only considered worthy but to be given Sanctuary if the need arose.
"Son I can tell you two things, first you are hereby granted Sanctuary if the need arises. Second, you know the 'Pure Mystery' better perhaps that the Mystery's Master."
As the words of the Elder sunk in, the meaning punched him in the gut. He raised his eyes to the gray-haired man before him, his throat had closed up but he still managed to say, "Samsara?"
The Elder nodded slowly, "She set herself up as bait."
"Why?" This couldn't be happening he thought. Why would she risk her life for him? He was only a slave to Irons. Ian shook his head, "Why would she do this?"
The old man gave Ian an ironic smile, "You're asking me? I didn't understand women when I entered the monastery, and I sure don't understand them now."
"How can I protect her?" Ian was grasping at straws. He refused to lose the one person who let him be someone.
"First, don't let her know that you are going to try and protect or save her. Second and most important, follow her lead." The Elder shook his head, "Don't worry, there is nothing that your 'boss' can do that will hurt her, except put you and those you care for in danger. Don't let on that you know her, pretend to be the lackey he thinks you are."
"What's going to happen?" Ian was starting to despair. Not Sam he thought, don't take her.
"Don't worry, Samsara has her plans," a slow secret smile slipped upon his face, "what Sam doesn't know is that she has a whole army behind her. Don't tell her, let's keep it between us." He gave Ian a knowing wink.
Ian nodded, relieved. "So what should I tell Mr. Irons?"
"Tell him it holds great power, and will be coming to the U.S., but that was all you were able to find out; and that you will keep looking." The Master poured himself a cup of tea, enjoy your visit today. Peruse the libraries, take your time, there is no rush to return to the city."
"But…" began Ian.
"If you are worried about your charge, Detective Pezzini, she has a couple of our best watching out for her." He smiled at Ian's reaction. "She is important to you, and you are important to Samsara, all will be well. You might want to make a call to Mr. Irons, to say you were granted access to the library." The old man chuckled again, I'm afraid Sam has plans for a few of Mr. Irons' toys." He brought the tea up to his lips and sipped it slowly. Watching the flurry of emotions cross the young man's face, he sat back while Ian stood, excused himself and went to make the call.
The call was incredibly brief, the mountains broke up the cell phone signals, but he was able to tell Irons he had access to the Libraries, a text message came back with only one word. 'Good".
*********
Sam caught her Master before he started his meditation. He smiled and bade her welcome into his tiny room. He gazed upon her as if she were his precious daughter. He gestured for her to sit and raised his hand to silence her before she spoke.
"Í understand you have a plan Samsara, regarding the evil man's machines. Do what you will, however, you must attend to the man you are bound to and strip him of the scent of your Power. He and those he cares for, will be the currency the Iron man will endeavor to use to have you succumb to his will." He placed his hand on her cheek and looked deeply into her eyes. "I must leave the Refuge for a short time, when I return; all the arrangements for your journey back to the United States will be complete."
Sam just sat there. He knew. She slapped herself mentally, of course he knew, that's why he's the Master. She watched the Master's aura shift, his mind was elsewhere.
"Okay, then. I'll go and break Irons' toys. Tonight, stateside time, I'll make sure there is nothing that will tie Ian to me that the 'Monster' can detect." She looked at her Master, concerned. "Is everything all right Master?"
He met her concerned lilac eyes flecked with gold and silver and nodded.
"Go and do what is necessary, our time grows short." Removing his hand from her cheek, he settled back, ready to meditate.
She understood her time at the monastery was limited to a few days, at best. The warmth of her Master's hand on her cheek brought tears to her eyes. This Order had become the family she had lost; and she did not want her time here to end. Lives were at stake, there was only one choice.
Sam recognized her cue to leave. She stood and bowed and backed out of the spartan room. She was going to miss him, even though she knew he would always be within "calling distance". The thought made her smile. Deciding the beach would be a better place to work, she told one of the Brothers where she was heading and declined his offer to accompany her. Once out of the walls, she said the 'Word' and her Artifacts appeared around her, charging and running but not touching the top of the plants, flying more than leaping over the grasses and occasional shrub. Most of them were leading the way to the beach. Mac sat on her shoulder and her two protective 'Dogs' were on either side of her. Her Snow leopard was in front of Sam and Tigger, although he bore no resemblance to Pooh's storybook companion, brought up the rear. Being careful not to tread on the vegetation, she decided the best way to cause havoc with Irons' businesses. First to disable the satellites, and then once in the States she would discover other operations that would be difficult for Irons to replace.
She reached the beach and found a high spot on one of the sandy dunes. Sitting down on the rug that rolled open for her, she gave the Artifacts orders to stay close. Mac was unusually quiet and she turned her attention to him before starting her work.
"What's wrong Mac?" Sam studied her small cohort.
"Do you think the young Lad is aright?" His voice was serious.
"I checked on him earlier Mac and he was fine. We'll be visiting later. After I am done here, I'm going to take a short nap and we should be able to catch him on the rooftop across from his Lady." She was able to use the ability of her owl Artifact so she was able to see Mac easily in the dark. "Anything else?" She watched for his reaction.
"No, not really." He looked down.
"Okay Mac, what's really going on?" Sam watched him squirm.
"I like 'im."He muttered his aura swirling madly.
"I do too, Mac, so what's the problem?" Sam was trying not to grow impatient, but she wanted to get her work done.
"Well," he hedged, "Why aren't you his Lady? You saved him."
"Oh Mac, I suppose it is because she is his Destiny. My Destiny doesn't include him; I'm pretty much on my own, except for you guys." She gave him a slightly sad smile. "Let's just enjoy his company until it's time to move on, okay?" Who am I trying to sell here, she thought, me or Mac? "Work to do Mac, chat later." She heard a small sniffle and he was quiet. Sam cupped her hand around Mac and sent her love into and through him, trying to comfort her friend. She shut her eyes, as if attempting to keep a significant emotional distance from Ian. She was too old for him; there was another who was evidently important in his future. Heaven forbid she'd forget the fact there were immense obligations to face.
Sam opened her eyes and looked lovingly at Mac. The only romance she would be able to have this lifetime would be from books and movies. Pushing negative, draining thoughts into a closet in her mind, she took a deep cleansing breath and slowly exhaled. Mentally she reached skyward.
Sam focused on the night sky, closed her eyes and sought her targets. The satellites owned were easy to find. Although Irons had never touched the parts that went into the machines, they emitted a subdued form of his aura. It was even easier to sweep space debris into them and their orbits. Within an hour Irons had no eyes in the sky.
*****
Vorschlag bunkers for satellite surveillance were highly classified bases. The main control room was dimly lit with top of the line hardware and personnel. Among all of Irons' branches of control, they were the best. Efficient and meticulous, the supervisors made sure testing and observation maintained the highest degree of quality. Huge monitors were labeled regarding their function on each wall. The room mirrored NASAS' control room, concerning the placement of computers and personnel. Each computer was manned; operators were continuously on line with the other bases, verifying trajectories and information gathered.
Adrian Quinn, the manager of Operations came strutting in with four large pizzas from Papa John. The control room soon had the ambiance of an Italian restaurant. He carried the boxes as if he was 'Papa John' delivering pizza. He winked at Monica and gave a general greeting to the rest of the staff.
"I expect full reports as soon as I put these in the break room. No report, no pizza." He grinned and sauntered into the break room and was setting the boxes down when the alarms began blaring. Forgetting the pizza, Quinn rushed back into the main control room.
Some of the satellites had an array of cameras which not only focused on general and specific targets on earth but on some Vorschlag and the competition's satellites. Quinn stood transfixed as he watched several chunks of space matter actually coalesce and move into the path of Vorschlags' programmable satellites.
"Hank, talk to me," yelled Quinn, "how is this happening? Route that satellite into another path."
Hank was scrambling to adjust the satellite into another orbital path but shocked when the debris shifted and the satellite was bombarded, totally destroying the solar panels then the entire body of the space computer.
"We've lost two other satellites, according to the base in Australia," shouted Nancy. Punching in the coordinates from the 'down under' base, "Morse, from Australia is waiting to conference with you and Ashe in France."
"Put them on monitor two." Snapped Quinn. "Those of you that can adjust your satellites orbit, do so. Who or whatever appears to know their paths. Jeannie, call Rick and see if we can lease the use of some of their 'birds'. He watched in horror as another geo-sync satellite scattered like the down from a dandelion.
He forced his eyes off the silent destruction occurring in front of him and faced his earth bound counter parts. Before he could address them Mike's voice interrupted.
"Alexisky, our Russian base is waiting to join the conference."
"Put him through," Quinn considered, "Call Winston in the UK and find out why he hasn't called." In this case, no news is not good news, thought Quinn. He stared at the Managers looking at him as though he had the key to this disaster.
"Before anyone starts their report, try and move your satellites and have someone call and see if we can lease time on the other Space Peepers."
He watched as the people in other parts of the world gave their subordinates more orders. He could not fathom how this could be happening. Behind him, he heard his people cursing as they observed their 'charges' being destroyed after adjusting their paths in order to avoid the new danger.
"Go ahead Ashe," invited Quinn. He could hear the shouts behind the people he hoped might have at least a clue to why this obliteration seemed so absolute.
"All of our satellites are destroyed. They were gone in a matter of minutes." Ashe said solemnly, he was pale. Each manager knew their lives were on the line. They'd better come up with a solution quick, Ashe said to himself.
"All the communications to and from Vorschlag in the United Kingdom are out." Nancy called up to Quinn. "Winston went to a cyber-café in London and sent a scrambled message to his sister who works as a nurse at County. She drove to your house Quinn and gave it to your wife. She just hand delivered it."
Quinn closed his eyes, thankful he had a remarkable wife. "Have it unscrambled." He turned to the conference call, met each man's gaze, "Work with your supervisors, operators and back-up tapes and see if we can find the people responsible. Bring in security and see if you can find the leak. We'll reconvene in forty-five minutes." He tried to exude calm, but he was far from being calm. Mentally he was screaming in panic. Quinn prayed they would find a solution to present to Mr. Irons. It was common knowledge that this company did kill the bearer of bad news.
******
Back in the Master's room, he placed a few items in a rucksack. One item, wrapped in red silk was padded between other items. He remembered how this evening came to be.
His reoccurring dreams had conveyed an undertaking that would require him to unite with six other monasteries' Masters. They were to work as one on a special Artifact for the Divine One. For years, each Master had been working on a piece of the Relic and in a days' time they would meet, assemble and imbue It with theirs Powers woven in an intricate and unusual pattern. This would be the second time they had used their Power as a group. The first time they had managed to stave off the destruction of civilization, such as it was. The human race had been on the brink of World War III, total annihilation due to the petty jealousies and rivalries of third world countries that not had been taken seriously by the major World leaders. The Masters had almost failed due to an engineering flaw of the Artifact they set upon the earth, to calm and repair the damage of Hate. They had been without a Divine Individual which would have averted the problem before it reached the severity they'd had to face.
Each of the Masters had met Samsara at least once, mainly on the astral realm. They had agreed the Ancestors had chosen wisely, and were awed by the fact the incredible Power had not distorted her humanity. If anything, it had given her a deeper capacity for compassion which the world was desperately lacking. But the deeper compassion came with a cost, a blind spot so to speak, about danger and the Masters had been given visions of their part in sending Her into the unforgiving world. They would be giving her a powerful protection, as well as a beacon for them to find Her without having to meditate. Any bindings she had or might have would not influence her or the ones she was bound to. All they would have to was think of her, and they would be aware of her situation and position. This would allow them to support Her with strengths and abilities that she had yet to realize. All of them had mixed feelings about letting Her leave the Sanctuary. They were excited for Her but they also wanted to keep Her safe in the Refuge.
Bag ready, the Master left in the dark to meet the others in a predetermined hut. Teleportation was rarely used, but this evening events called for extraordinary measures. The trip was quick and successful.
He saw light from under the door of the hut as he approached. He knocked twice, and then entered. He was the second to the last to arrive. As he went to take a place at the table where they would be constructing the Artifact, he took out his piece of the new Artifact. After a few moments, the last Master from the Cliff Refuge came into the hut. The moment had come, the Cliff refuge Master made his way to the table, dug into his bag and brought out his red wrapped item. Each Master unwrapped their piece and set it inside a specially drawn circle. The men then took each others hand and they began to chant.
******
Taking no chances, Sam rearranged atom like particles around satellites that Irons would likely try to access next. Irons' aura had a sequence that was akin to a fingerprint, try as he would, none of the satellites would be accessible. Exhausted, she curled up on the rug which coiled around her. Her Artifacts arranged themselves strategically near and kept watch while she slept.
******
Alarms were still blaring as Vorschlag lost one satellite after another. Every console showed them winking out of existence.
After forty-five minutes, the managers attempted to have another conference call to discover why each of Vorschlags' eyes in the sky was disappearing. Unfortunately, they were unable to contact each other. Not only were their satellites down, but no satellite allowed Vorschlag communications.
********
Sven expertly took Irons through his first physical therapy session. He was one of the few people Irons trusted to manipulate, or at least, touch his body. The session was brief, yet Sven was very aware of what Irons body could tolerate. He had an innate ability to push or stretch a muscle to within a fraction of an inch of what it could stand. He only spoke to Irons when explaining what the therapy would accomplish, no idle chit chat.
Irons was disgusted with the fact that he was to be twisted and stretched. True he had the best physical therapist, yet seeing the Swede's perfect physique while his body betrayed him was but salt on a wound. He paid no heed to the man's nattering of 'why' he was being bent like a pretzel. Just do your job, he thought.
Ian's call had been well timed. He had gained access to the monastery's library. He could count on Ian getting the information he needed. It was as if he had called, the memory of the new Power's flavor he sought seemed to reassert its presence. This time it was more than just a taste for his tongue to savor; his entire body had the sensation. It started low in his groin and spread, like ripples from the center of a pond, outward gaining warmth.
He closed his eyes. Sven's hands added to the intensity of the burn. Irons gritted his teeth; not being able to moan was torture. The Power was demanding. He could swear that the Power was close, being used. His body could not ignore the demand; his hand grasped the towel until his knuckles were white. He bit down on the towel under his head to hold back the scream.
Irons disregarded Sven's questions. The Power seemed to surge, taunting him. His body responded to the tantalizing torment, sweeping him closer to the edge. The energy was unforgiving, making him tremble and throb for more. A roller coaster came to mind, except the Power was the rails; his body was the cars, jerked this way, drawn to the brink. It stopped. He teetered. He needed more, just a little bit more he pleaded. Irons gasped for air, eyes closed he felt like he was playing Marco Polo, but in this case he was seeking the Power.
Gently, imperceptibly the Power was there. He didn't want gentle; he demanded satisfaction his way. Wicked, explosive, his mind shrieked. There was no verbal reply to his desire however, there was a wicked answer. Slowly, lightly like a feather passing in spirals around his groin, enticing his body. The need flared, his body bucked and the flame licked his entire being. The Power was being molded, reshaped and he was experiencing every delicious flux. Again the energy tortured him to the very precipice of satisfaction, he couldn't breathe or move just a nudge and he would be in nirvan……
"Mr. Irons. Um, excuse me Mr. Irons."
The man waited a few moments then hesitantly, he advanced through the door, feeling as though he were about to be eaten by a lion.
Irons' body shuddered. So close his mind screamed. He took a couple of shuddery breaths and looked up to see one of his top managers holding a file.
The manager's face looked bloodless, and his eyes were like that of a 'deer caught in the headlights'.
Irons loosened his grip on the towel and beckoned the man to enter. What I really want, he considered, is to have you drawn and quartered.
He raised his eyebrow, indicating the man better say what he must.
Irons waved Sven away, gesturing to continue tomorrow. Sven nodded and gathered his things.
"Well, Mr. Irons, sir. We have evidence all the Vorschlag satellites are out of commission. Some of the reports suggest solar activity; other reports explain the satellites were caught in several, unexplained asteroid showers. Many of the satellites were taken out simultaneously."
"The other managers and I believe that it is an act of sabotage. We have called to try and lease other satellites but there seems to be something jamming our signals." Having said his piece he slowly tried to back out of the room. Irons put up his hand, stopping him in midstride,
Irons gestured to his pad, which the manager handed him. He wrote "ALL Satellites?" Irons eyes bored into the very skull of the man in front of him, which only succeeded in making him shake more.
"Yes sir. All." He swallowed hard.
Irons looked down, disgusted and disbelieving. He picked up his cell phone and placed a call to Nottingham. He reached a recording that "His call did not go through." Furious, Irons threw the phone across the room, narrowly missing the manager.
The effects of his PT were catching up to him. Damn, he thought, not one word of his loss was to be made known.
Irons considered calling in a favor.
*****
Ian returned to his seat across from the Master after his call with Irons. The Elder had waited patiently for Ian's return.
"Any difficulties with your employer?" The grey haired man asked. He held a blueberry muffin in his hand. His demeanor had changed; he still had the slippery white aura. Ian shook his head, and accepted the muffin and sat down across from the Elder.
Ian had a sense that a storm was brewing, although there were no clouds in the sky. He bit into his muffin; inhaling the wonderful aroma and the feast it delivered to his palate. He was finishing the muffin and a second cup of tea when the novice came padding towards them. He stopped a few feet away and informed the Elder that he had an urgent call. The Master did not seem surprised, and he stood.
"Feel free to roam the grounds," he smiled, "this is a wonderful time of the year. Please excuse me."
Ian half stood, but the old man waved for him to remain seated. He left Ian alone under the old tree. The harder he tried not to think of Sam, the more she invaded his thoughts. He sighed and gave into temptation. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath in and "saw" the silver braided cord. It seemed thicker than he remembered, but he didn't feel concerned. Ian imagined holding the cord and following it to Sam. He gasped when it worked; he saw, felt, smelled and tasted her. She was on the beach. His spirits started to lift, and then he noticed something he'd witnessed on Irons. The gray and black glowing mass was very tiny, but something told him it was evil.
Sam lay on the beach, surrounded by her Artifacts. He noticed tears in Mac's eyes. Frantically he searched for something that should have been apparent before he saw her. There were no monks with her which he found odd. His knowledge wasn't complete, but he believed something was amiss.
Her aura, her life force was so faint. He thought she might be dying.