CHAPTER 2
GERMANY ~ c. 2008
KRISTOPH:
'MELISSA', read her hand-drawn name tag.
Kristoph had never thought much about women (he tended to ignore the whole issue, but on reflection, probably considered himself somewhat androgynous), but something about her was curiously alluring, so much so he seemed to have crossed the road subconsciously, his feet rerouting in her direction. He preened a lock of his golden hair absently.
'Melissa' giggled.
Kristoph sensed an atmospheric thundercloud and turned. An ugly woman with big hair was shooting deathly eye-radar in their direction.
Alte Hexe. Kristoph ignored her and instead his eyes were drawn into the scene behind her. There were strange looking objects littered around the small arena, an archaic board listing a program of shows and events, and huge, intricately sewn and less-intricately printed banners and buntings bearing some weird tadpole-comma laden commercial logo. His eyes centred on another little sign. 'Unlock the Power of The Universe! Be A God!'
Melissa had been speaking, Kristoph hadn't really been listening. Right now she was inviting him to attend some kind of meeting or luncheon this afternoon, upon which he could learn how to access Spiritual Powers. His eyes still stuck on the sign behind her, inspiration suddenly struck him.
He then knew that when he grew up he wished to be a deity. The fact he had no supernatural powers was irrelevant; only deception and delusion of others was required to found a cult. Silly little Klavier whined about being a rock god, but Kristoph knew real deities were better. Whatever Melissa was simpering about now was all a load of made up garbage, but it didn't matter. It was past time he start studying up for adult career options - what better way to attain power and supremacy? And he'd never have to get his hands dirty or bloodstained or break a nail - all would be at his bidding and supreme control.
"Please come," Melissa was begging. A strange pink fluttering object wreathed around him.
"Okay. I will attend," he ceded. A few other strange ladies were clustered like ants in the background. The big haired hag had suddenly begun to loom toward them, a fake smile pasted over her earlier hideous scowl.
"We are so DELIGHTED to have you!" she was now exclaiming. Kristoph took her in more closely. She wore a strange mystical outfit like some freak out of a fairytale, and a large pendant bearing that same weird many-comma logo (obviously the cult's symbol.) He could now read her nametag, which read 'Master of Kurain'. Was she the leader?
She bowed to him formally, which stroked his ego. Quite right, all should bow beneath me. He did not return the gesture.
###
The speeches were all quite interesting. At first he made mental notes for future reference, but then he found himself swaying and trancing along with the subterranean beat and the enraptured crowd. There was a mass of delirium and confusion in which he had no idea how much or little time had passed. He got the sense several days may have, although he hadn't slept, and the complex they were in was bathed in unnatural artificial and mystical lights with no relation or access to the natural patterns of the sun. But he felt only ecstasy, and was inspired to start ritually scarring himself along with everyone else for the Initiation Rite.
He'd quite forgotten his original motivations to be there, and would have moved to the wonderful organisation's headquarters to continue this Right Path to Universe-al Power, except the 'Kurain Master' said something that suddenly made him wake up. It seemed you didn't get to be a 'god' until you were DEAD.
Deal breaker. When the other converts were swaying praisefully onto the minibus to travel to the next destination, he slipped discreetly through a hole in the barbed-wire fence, cursing the cult furiously as it tore his flesh and made him bleed. This brought him further to his senses. We have been locked in, but the organisation has no money - they couldn't even rent somewhere with proper security! Look how run down this dump is!
And the Kurain Master had been a terrible speaker, he realised as he distastefully brushed the dirt off his jacket. The other woman, High Mystic Patricia, had never broken the spell, but the incompetent leader just awoke all from the dream. Well, not all. Dummkopfs! Like cattle drawn to Stierscheiße!
His glasses flashed poison. I have BROKEN A NAIL!
Someone will pay.
###
AZAKURAIN - (Iris' Initiation Channelling ~Sept 2027)
KRISTOPH:
It was a relief to finally be channelled. Kristoph had read about these nutters in Oh!Cult!, back in the jail, it seemed people connected with the Azakurain cult had given him the demon scar back in Germany, and he was overjoyed when one of them turned up at his cell one day trying to 'convert' him.
He had played his cards well, feigning resistance to the 'conversion', and as she got more desperate she, as he predicted, used more of her enticements, explaining that if members did enough that pleased the Order and spirits, they were exalted to gods upon death.
This was far more pleasing to his ear than that tedious drivel of the Haza/Kurain nun, who'd only ever droned on about being 'respected'. It was after she'd confirmed that Kristoph himself could be considered a god if he joined and did enough in the Order, that he revealed the Mark, explained before unjustified incarceration he'd been a high ranking member of the overseas branch, and that he could both channel and had butterfly familiars, which the jail had taken. She queried him further about these, and all he said was correct. Since butterfly familiars were a strict secret only known to qualified members, therefore it must be true he was a member of the overseas branch!
Kristoph wasn't sure it was true he'd become a god, but it didn't matter, as long as the cult thought he was. He knew the silly backward parts like Kurain venerated the ghosts of esteemed ancestors, though it was more respect than deification. But clearly at some point the leaders of the cult at Azakurain had wanted greater posthumous glorification of themselves, and the carrot had eventually expanded to encompass other 'esteemed' members of the cult upon death (though of course recognition of your deification was contingent on how often, if ever, you were channeled for consultation, so the leaders and their favoured were still effectively the highest 'gods'. Although one of the lures of the cult was anyone might be promoted to 'god' status upon death, in practice only the Master, a few high Enlightened Ones, those destined to Share for the Mark and a few other special cases actually received the designation – though the other members spent their lives jumping through hoops in the hope they would achieve this honour…)
Kristoph had lied he'd been a Chief Elder in the overseas branch (the actual leader might be famous enough to be known) and was unjustly jailed as a martyr to the Cause, only following direct instructions given to him by a channelled god-leader. And it seemed the hapless missionary had swallowed the story, judging by his current reception.
"I..it is true Ancestor!" squeaked a youngish-sounding Member. "You have been exalted!"
"Naturally." Kristoph played along. He'd feared it might take convincing, but this seemed unnecessary, the Order was unquestioning of his stated status, some had fallen on their faces, (not that he could see them) other were ranting inconherent praiseful incantations, swaying in unison.
All is going as justified!
"Indeed, it is true. I have been exhaulted."
"Oh, High Brother Kristoph," simpered Mystic Dora, shedding a tear such that Kristoph could even hear her snot, "it is as I encouraged, your martyrdom was not in vain!"
"Quite."
In the long, solitary musings before his execution, Kristoph had constructed a theory of how the power game in this cult worked. The leaders could make their subordinates jump through infinite hoops in hope of gaining post-humous 'god' promotion, but who was really then treated as a deity was contingent on the leaders of the day bothering to have them channelled. But conversely, if the game was played correctly whilst on Earth, past leaders could then still manipulate the thoughts and actions of the present leader and followers, even from the grave.
He spectrally smirked on the genius of being of a 'foreign branch' – it effectively designated him as an impartial, neutral entity, separate from the official hierarchies and unofficial bitch-fighting which influenced which past ancestors and whose guardian 'gods' got channeled, consulted and followed most often for advice.
Despite this coup, Kristoph was aware he was probably still only a minor 'god' in the pantheon in relation to more powered exalted ex-Masters. Still, as he had ascertained, for a superlative of his magnitude there were sure strategies to change this…
Other members were excitedly babbling – not to him, it seemed. "It is he – the high ranking god from the German branch! Mystic Sister, your powers and destiny must be immense!"
"Quite so," thundered Kristoph. "I have an important prophecy for the destiny of Hazakur…"
But his sacred proclamations were cut short as the immensity of Iris' powers lost connection.
###
KURAIN
PHOENIX:
My eyelids vibrate, whether jarred into blurred dawnlight by the traditional Kurain gong or a soft offensive object, my still-slumbered mind can't really tell.
"Nick! How could you!"
"I'm s-sorry!" my heartstring tears sputter into my mouth. (Wait… what'd I do anyway?) But my emotions are achingly real. Maya's eyes brim upset, and I c-can't bear to see that.
"WHY DIDN'T YOU WAKE ME UP?"
"Huh I w.." (Clock says 5am?…)
"How could I miss it!"
Oh wait, now I remember. Last night! "But Maya, you just kinda dropped off asleep halfway, and you looked so tired and peaceful…" (and cute, curled up on my chest) "I thought it's rude to wake people…"
"But the Premiere TV Special Episode! The first new one in FOUR MONTHS AND THIRTEEN DAYS! You know I've been counting down since February!"
(No, I didn't.)
"Maya, Maya… I set the DVD to tape it." (Actually, I think you did beforehand, but whatever.) "We can watch it tonight!" (Not again.)
"Oh, Nick!" Maya's arms asphyxiate me. "But why 'night'? Why not 'now'?"
"I thought we were supposed to 'temper our resolve' under a waterfall, or flagellate under psychic stones, or meditate…"
Maya sighs. "You're turning into such a workaholic, Nick. Can't you remember how lazy you really are when it's useful?"
"Um…"
"How can I wait all day to see if the Tomato Clan 'splattered Pink Princess' entrails to the ends of the Earth?'" Her enthuse suddenly afterthoughts: "Then I wont be able to concentrate on that client this afternoon."
(Ewww…) "You have to wait longer than that anyway. The episode ended on a cliffhan…"
"AGHHH!" Maya's hands paw over my mouth. "Spoilers!"
"How about breakfast?" I suggest. (A guaranteed distracton tactic...)
"Huh? Nah, I'm not hungry."
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?
"L-let's play the D-VD," I suggest, unable to deflect the shaking from my arms and voice.
Maya's eyes light delirium.
As the Samurais begin their over-the-top drone, my eyes remain as fixed on her as hers on the screen.
###
AZAKURAIN
IRIS:
Iris tried not to pass out. Mystic Dora's stream of excitement poured forth, explaining it was requisite to have more power to channel a far flung stranger such as a god from an overseas branch, rather than the same old popular Ancestors which just hung around Hazakurain being channelled regularly which everyone had already seen – but a total stranger from the other side of the world! (The Azakuranians were all blissfully unaware Kristoph and Iris had ever met, let alone the connection of the butterfly familiar.)
And it seemed Iris had gotten more attention from the leaders from that moment on. She'd hoped to not have to channel again, but it was only a few days before the Azakurain Master decreed she would be calling on her guardian in today's Mystic Circle divination. A substandard Ancestor Guardian meant you were now considered insignificant and lacking any destiny of consequence planned by MAI and the Exalted Ones. The Destiny plans of a 'god', however, were often seen as direct guidance to the future of the entire cult. This had caught Iris off-guard – weren't the highest gods the Guardians of the Master and High elder, since they were the ones usually consulted? But she could only obey instruction, no matter how it terrified her. She'd feared she'd never repeat the exerting feat from before, but little exertion was required – only the most mild of her focus was needed before her lead butterfly ignited into glow and almost before she knew what was occurring, the Great One was again within her Mark!
###
KURAIN
MAYA:
"Okay!" I beam to my channelling client in the flickering light of the Channelling Chamber. "Just a moment Sir, while Mystic Phoenix makes the final arrangements."
I turn to my guard dog –oh wait, he's not there!
I whirl around as a familiar stamping emerges from behind that old screen. Silly Nick, always so paranoid…. Yeah okay, I admit it makes me feel better!
He makes the final adjustments on the sacred branches, candles and objects, takes his place back on the mat nearby, double checks the key, TRIPLE checks the key, and finally whispers to begin.
I kneel in front of the altar, in front of the client, and close my eyes. I train my powers.
I keep training them, long and hard.
I can't find this damn ghost anywhere! Oh, I sense a few others, ones I don't want to channel. I adjust things at the altar (trying in vain to focus different levels of radiation).
I sense a twitch from Nick's mat as a Sacred Branch slips out of my fingers and clatters to the floor.
Calm down! Focus!
I hastily shove it back in. Stupid sticks, they're mostly props anyway...
Right. Try again.
I keep my back turned to the client. I can't see him with my eyes closed, but I don't wanna look. It's surely off-putting. He can think I'm doing something important at the altar. I sneak one eye open for another surreptitious glance at the photo of his Dear Mother Mrs Eric in hope it'll help me ID her signal better.
I return to the familiar projecting of my senses. There are the signals, in a blurred distance where I can't tell yet what or who they are. Got to pinpoint them into focus... But it's hard to fight through a steadily increasing dead weight in my head.
BAM! I actually jerk as it's like I'm hit with a rock. I'm going to open my eyes, when I realise there is no rock. The explosion is nothing but a splitting headache. And that sudden agony in the pit of my stomach... it appears I just sagged forward in some kind of weak exhaustion...
It's okay. Nick once told me that clients wouldn't mind these type of 'delays' as they have no idea they are delays. It's like a show. But I know! It's bad enough with all those people thinking we're frauds... my mother a fr... No, not thinking of that now!
I straighten off the horrible splintery altar and try again. I clear my mind of nothing but the powers and the spirits. I visualise myself as not trapped in this chamber with an impatient client, but on a distant, spiritual plane, the walls dissolved away. Infinite space and time extend in their place. Who knows how real it is and who cares, 'cause it feels like it is.
I focus on the image of the client's mother and what kind of supernatural signature it might translate to. The still blurred signals of unidentified 'spirits' are starting to return to the forefront of my perception. I try to search for a likely signal in the blurred spiritual mass.
I search further, nearer, but I can't find anything. I get more desperate. I try to focus in on a target - any target, even one I don't want to channel - but I can't get past the distant, combined mess. It's like my long-range E.S.P. is fuzzy and draining. Using it is giving me a splitting headache I'm having trouble tolerating, and I'm actually feeling faint, like I might collapse. Damn it!
Refocus. Try to look for Sis.
I won't channel her or speak to her, it'll just set a bearing in training my focus, like a warm-up. Kinda insulting though - I haven't had to use that tactic for many, many years. I'm the Master! I'm not some snivelling little girl still crying for her sister whenever she's in trouble!
Damn it. WHERE IS SHE?
And does my head ever hurt! I force my fingers down, which have been rubbing it absently. I resist the urge to bury my face in my palms. It's starting to look bad to the client, surely. And even if it isn't, I'm wasting their time.
"A moment, Mr Eric!" I beckon to Nick, and we collude in a corner.
"Nick! I, um, can't find the ghost yet!"
"Well. Um, maybe the person is still alive?"
"I don't think so. If they were, they'd be 115." I fill with the relief of elation. "But hey! I guess you're right! Is this a record?"
"No, Maya. I don't think that's likely." Nick's eyes are set in boring seriousness. "Guess the ghost is, um, just hard to find." Nick wouldn't have a clue how to channel, and his eyes drop that clueless air self-deprecatingly. It doesn't make me feel better though. My heart drops. I should have found it by now! If I was going to. It just confirms my fears, my powers seem to be irritatingly weak lately, no matter how much I train. Am I getting sick? Too old? Nah, I can't be too old, there's channellers who are 80 here.
"N..Nick. Um, is there any way you could get P-Pearly to have a go? Don't let anyone else know!" I'm embarrassed, I can't meet his eyes.
Nick saunters back to the client, businesslike. "The Master has identified your spirit, and seen it's one best channelled by one of our specialists for that type," he improvises in a convincing manner. Mr Eric seems to buy it. Thanks, Nick.
I stay in the chamber, rigid with a pasted smile. If anyone saw me just leave it might look suspicious. But I kinda feel as wooden and dead as the heavy walls. I don't feel up to small talk, so I pretend to be attending to a load of old candles and incense. I try to ignore Mr Eric's pointed glance at his watch.
Thankfully, the rumble of the door soon signals Nick and Pearly's return. I move strategically to a nearby mat so it looks like I'm doing something (since Nick is sitting there in the same position on the opposite side of the room.) Maybe the client thinks it's something to do with the actual ritual. Of course, it isn't. But Nick seems to know more about magic shows or performance arts these days... if the client is happy, it will be good business. (Or at least not bad business with complaining about delays to Oh!Cult!...)
And the real channelling ritual begins.
I mask my trepidation. What will we do if there's something weird about this ghost and Pearly can't channel her either? Out of the corner of my eye I keep a wary watch on her closed eyes and supreme, serene face of focus.
But almost right away, there's that blur of flashing spirit power, upon which all observers are forced to close their eyes, and next we know, an ugly hybrid is instead present on the mat.
"M-m-Mother?"
"Gen? GEN! What is this? Where am I?"
I feel so pathetic. For some reason I am not distracted by Mr Eric's touching reunion with his mother, some distant part of me just feels far away and empty, and I spend much of the time pretending to examine my Magatama. I don't even feel better when the ghost starts screeching and arguing in the supposed pitfalls of family reunions.
You're not jealous. Grow up already!
After time that seems interminable, the spirit leaves and Pearly's usual form returns. I dodge her gaze. Lucky the client should have no idea anything was up. I know Pearly will cover for me and won't tell – but it's sure not something you want getting out!
We all go through the polite formalities with the client, then excuse ourselves and depart, Nick charging off in the direction of Fey Manor. I don't have much choice but to follow, and follow more as he takes us into the Master's Wing.
I turn to Nick's hand resting on my shoulder.
"You okay? You d-didn't look so good." His eyes are not mocking (as I feared) but kind.
"I…" I'm ready to deny… but give up to another wave of fatigue. "I have a headache."
"A painkiller?" He's turning for the bathroom.
"No! I can cope!" We don't take them here, anyway, they interfere with E.S.P. and you're supposed to be able to take a little pain! I then feel guilt at the ferocity of my snarl –he was just trying to help- but Nick seems unconcerned. He's now laying his hand on my forehead – I guess to check for fever. His face signals a no.
'W-what am I going to do Nick? I ca-can't let it get out I'm losing my p-powers!" I finally let slip my distress.
"Huh? Not doing one channelling isn't 'losing your powers'. Aren't you being a bit hard.."
"No! They've been pathetic lately! They're still there but they're, like.. Weak!" I gesture in annoyance. (Even more annoyance that the shouting and gesturing's made the world's balance go askew.) A few tears of frustration irritatingly squeeze out my eyes.
Nick's eyes flash increasing concern, but his arms surround me comfortingly. "It's fine – I'm sure they'll come back! In the meantime I'm sure we can cover for you. Didn't you lose them once before?"
"Y-yeah, but that was because I DIDN'T TRAIN! I've been t-training and training, but they d-don't…"
"Then maybe you just need a rest."
I pout, defeated. I hate seeming weak! I want to argue, but I'm so tired, I'd rather just lie down and sleep, which kinda contradicts my argument. I collapse my heavy head against Nick. "Lie down," I direct. Nick complies and slides us to the bed and soon I'm gratefully obliterated by sleep.
###
And when my eyes do reopen, it's into Nick's worried pupils.
"H-how do you feel?"
"I-I'm okay. Really!"
"I-I made you something." He holds it bashfully forth. Clearly his best attempt at a home-cooked burger.
I could do better myself, but it's the thought that counts, right? "That's really sweet!"
"I-is five enough?"
"It'll do," I cede graciously through a mouthful.
I show my gratitude by gobbling them down as fast as possible, being sure to lick the plate after. Nick's still watching me carefully.
"I'm fine, really!" I emphasise amid chews. "My headache is gone, and I feel much better!" Increasing relief is flooding his eyes. Plates empty, I start scrambling in preparation to heave myself out.
Nick finishes shaking the crumbs from the sheet and slides in next to me. "No. I really think we should stay in bed."
"No! I'm fi…" My words are smushed out by Nick's lips pressing into mine.
I don't resist.
As I fall for him, like the first time, I'm reassured. Nick's feelings for me don't change whether or not I can channel.
But everyone elses' do.
###
Notes: If my German is wrong it's Google Translate's fault, but Kristoph isn't saying anything very nice anyway :) Old hag, idiot, and 'Like cattle drawn to bulls***'.
That's Morgan pretending to be 'Kurain Master' in the 'Flashback' to Kristoph's adolescence, obviously. This is the 'trip overseas' Mystic Miranda was referring to her, Morgan, Dahlia and Mystic Patricia taking in Chapter 1. Dahlia had already left 'overseas' due to the diamond incident as described in 3-4. But as Mystic Miranda recounted, Morgan refused to reconcile with Dahlia as being anything but worthless, despite the Mystics' attempts.
As for Kristoph, he did indeed get dirty, bloodstained, AND break a nail.