[Sodium_noir] At the Temple

[Jennie Teakle]

JOINT POST - Liz & Jennie


Jack, Christine
Spirit Entity, Orphan Mage
Temple of the Five Dragons
Late evening

Christine concentrates on the memory, isolating it from the stream of  
her own thoughts: Jack's recollection of the Scarab and Bastet's  
dramatic arrival at the Iblis warehouse a few nights ago. The images  
have a flickering surrealism - Jack's perspective overlaid with  
incredulity and doubt that this weird scene - more like a Marvel  
comics episode -  ever really took place.

"Mind if I . . .?" Christine checks with Jack before stretching out  
to lightly touch his exposed fingers.

Jack nods. "Go ahead."

  Jack's fingertips are cool now, not burning with fever and this  
whole mental communion seems easier.  She has made this connection  
before, mind to mind, so maybe that's why the images seem to flow  
more smoothly. Whatever, she notes with some satisfaction and much  
relief that she seems to have better control over this ability.  
Practice, maybe.

"This," says Christine out loud, curling her fingers back,  
withdrawing gently from this slight, physical contact and the mental  
connection it facilitates. "What were you doing in that place? Can  
you remember?

"Yeah - the warehouse is owned by a company called Melcom. Akril  
suspected something odd was going on there and sent me to spy. They  
were running pipelines out into the river - don’t know why.  What  
else...?” Jack wrinkles up his nose, trying to pry out the memories  
from what had turned out to be a fairly traumatic evening.  
“Uhm...diving gear, too. Looked like a lot of pipe - would easily  
make it out to the bay. Don’t know if they  intended to pump  
something out there, but that was my guess.”

“I was there when I felt Akril die. My connection to him turned off  
like a light switch. I’d already done most of these...” Jack raises  
his arms slightly, nodding at the bandages. “...and was starting to  
feel a bit queasy, so the next part...”

Jack looks a bit embarrassed at this point, but forges ahead  
nonetheless.

“Well, the next part might be some kind of hallucination. In  
retrospect, it sure sounds crazy.”  He takes a deep breath. “There  
was a woman tied to a chair. I’ve no idea why or who she was, but I’m  
looking out through a gap in the floorboards and - I am not fucking  
with you here - this space ship flies in. It’s being flown by a guy  
wearing gold armor and a girl who looks like Catwoman. Swear to god.  
I know it sounds nuts. They swoop in and kill the guy who... who was...”

Jack’s voice fades as a memory previously suppressed pushes itself to  
the forefront of his brain. His eyes widen and a horrified whisper  
escapes his lips.  “They were like me - the men there, working in the  
warehouse, guarding the woman - they were like me.  Spirits in human  
form. But they were demons - called Ahazu - monsters, really. I  
knew... I know what they are. Recognized them..."

Sweat has broken out over his brow and Jack’s wounded hands are  
clearly shaking. He  raises his eyes to Christine’s, his voice  
rasping, timid. “The super-heroes in the space ship left, took the  
woman with them. I don’t remember how I got out of there. Things got  
kind of muddled after that.”

Without realizing it, Jack has grabbed hold of Christine’s hand, his  
fingers still shaking with fear.

Immediately Jack's thoughts are flooded with a host of images of the  
same night and the same scene, this time from Christine's  
perspective. He sees the inside of the elegant and strange flying  
craft, the golden armour and expressionless Pharoah's mask of the  
Scarab; the cat goddess face and silver segmented suit that gives  
Bastet her flowing, deadly grace. He sees the fight in the compound  
between the superheroes and the Iblis henchmen, all overlaid with a  
patina of fear and hesitancy. Christine, no fighter, way out of her  
depth again, scurrying across the tarmac and dodging into a van for a  
desperate glimpse of Sugar Kane's future.

"Shit!" Christine wrenches her hand away. "Fuck!" She'd congratulated  
herself on getting the telepathy thing under control *way* too  
prematurely.

She catches sight of Jack's expression and is stabbed through. So  
scared. And so lonely.

"Hey, look, I'm sorry!" the words tumble out as she tries, uselessly,  
to make it better. "But, well, you saw - I was there too. Didn't know  
what the fuck I was doing, so no heroics from me. I ran away! I  
totally understand about being scared shitless by all this crazy stuff."

Christine hesitates then, taking a deep breath and trying to compose  
her thoughts, she reaches out and takes Jack's hand carefully in her  
own. Her slim fingers curl around his and this time, there is no  
touch of minds, just a tentative physical link. Christine glances up  
from their loosely joined hands.

  "I can't offer much," she says, subdued. "I mean, I can't help you  
very much. I don't know shit about any of this. I don't know anything  
about demons or spirits -  made flesh or otherwise. Never heard of  
the Ahazu."

All the while Christine’s talking, Jack is still trying to absorb it  
all.  However, the instant she pauses, he jumps in.  “You were  
there?  In the warehouse?  Who the hell are those people and why were  
they in costume?  How did you get involved?  Are they human?  Why was  
the woman there?  Was she important to those demons?  A sacrifice?”

He realizes he’s asking far too many questions all at once and pauses  
to catch his breath.  She’s trying to make it better and he’s not  
letting her.  Jack gently squeezes Christine’s fingers, “S’okay, I’m  
fine.  Just strange to see it in my head from a different perspective.”

"Yeah, really," Christine agrees - with feeling. "Listen, I don't  
know the answer to most of those questions. But the superhero types  
are The Scarab and Bastet. I met them . . . kinda by accident. I got  
involved because I Saw things about the victim - Sugar. She's a  
singer I think. I don't know why the bad guys wanted her; don't know  
about any demons at Iblis." Christine's fingers twitch nervously in  
Jack's. "You know more about that than I do."

He feels the need to reassure her. “Don’t worry.  I knew those  
demons, but not because I am one.  I just knew what kind they were,  
like I recognized those spirits that Aurora summoned.”

Jack smiles.  “Identifying other spirits doesn’t seem to be a  
problem.  I just don’t know what the hell I am.  Ironic, huh?”

"And I'm no help!" Christine scowls, impatient with her own  
ignorance. Then her expression brightens.

  "But, I guess I have heard of Melcom," she says.  "All round  
incarnation of corporate evil and top of Mara's shit list . . . and I  
do know Bastet and the Scarab - kinda. I think maybe all of the above  
would like to hear what you found out about the Melcom connection at  
Iblis, the pipes and diving gear. If it turns out to be illegal and  
damaging to Melcom's public standing, Mara will definitely be  
interested!"

Christine looks down at the white bandaged hand again. She doesn't  
think she let slip about Bastet's secret identity. Did she?

"But, maybe you should also talk to Aurora about the spirit stuff;  
about yourself and where you really come from?" Christine pauses. "I  
think she knows a bit about spirits and the spirit, y'know,  
realm . . . That's if you want to know your true nature. One way or  
the other?"

Christine falls silent, a delicate current of ice threading through  
her blood. Maybe, just maybe, Jack is  better off not knowing his  
origins. Better off having a fresh start as a human. Christine says  
nothing. She doesn't know what's for the best and she still cannot  
See Jack's future.

“Yeah," says Jack, "I’ll talk to your superhero pals, if you think  
any of this would be useful.  It would be kinda interesting to see  
them up close.  And, I’m really relieved to know I’m not the only  
chicken around here.”  He leans forward and whispers, teasing, “ I  
would have run, too.”

Christine grins ruefully. "Heh! Not proud of myself. But at least now  
I know I'm really not cut out for the superhero gig!"

“As for Aurora...” Jack pauses, his smile fading a bit.  “If she can  
zero in on what I am then, yeah, I think she should give it a go.  If  
it turns out to be bad news, it’d be best to find out now, don’t you  
think?”

Christine shakes her head, silently, not looking directly at Jack.

"I don't know," she says. "It depends on what you were planning to do  
with your freedom."

She looks up. "So . . . what are your plans, now?"

Jack shrugs, feeling a bit sheepish. “Don’t know, never been free.  I  
suppose...”  He pauses, his next thought bordering on  
presumptuousness, he speaks it aloud anyway.  “I suppose I could ask  
you the same thing.  Now that you... aren’t tied to anyone... and can  
do what you want, what are you going to do?  Somehow, I can’t see  
office work in your future and we know we both suck at being  
superheroes.”

He’s aware that his fingers are still holding Christine’s.  Another  
presumption.  Jack smiles, a bit awkwardly, and withdraws his hand.

The Seer doesn't have any idea what the future holds for her; no  
plans; no purpose. The irony. Christine realises that clinging onto  
Jack's hand has been more for own benefit than his and feels a little  
bereft. She doesn't say anything. He's still sick and he's adrift  
like her. Last thing he needs right now is Christine getting all  
needy on him. She'll just have to deal on her own.

"What am I going to do?" she asks, keeping her tone flippant. "No  
clue. Suggestions?"

“Well, as soon as I’m up and about, a smoke and a drink are tops on  
my agenda," says Jack.  "After that, well... guess that’s as far as  
my plans go.”

Christine smiles faintly. "Good plan. Gets my vote," she says. "If  
you got space in your social calendar, maybe we could go to Raindogs  
in Neon City one night? Great place to get shitfaced."

She falls silent again, fiddling with the vodka bottle. It's still  
empty.


TBC

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