Chapter
8
Christmas
Day
00:00:00 – 00:00:15
The clock on the mantle began to chime
midnight. Alopex rolled his head on the
pillow to stare at it.
It begins, he thought. It will either be a monumental triumph or a
catastrophic disaster. By this time
tomorrow, this house could be empty.
The Legacy could find itself with a gaping hole in its defenses, and all
because Merlin wants to give them a special gift. A magical gift on a magical night … Why did I ever give her that damned book ..? It put ideas in her head and Enforcers are
at their best when they don’t think. We are creatures of reaction. Evil arises, we react to it. A situation develops, we react with planning
and action. We don’t do creative very
well. We obey orders, whether from
within or from Legacy Precepts and members.
We don’t initiate situations. It
only leads to trouble.
And the trouble with this is that it
could rip these people apart. Friends
could become enemies. Allies could take
sides. Deep, dark secrets only ever
thought about quickly and in the privacy of the deepest inner mind could rise
to the surface and dominate. If they
don’t take over, they could easily cast a dark shadow over the future. Tomorrow, these people – these good, decent
people – will be suffering trauma.
Whether it is mild or paralyzing is yet unknown. Some Christmas this is going to be …
Why did she want to do this? We have all said it at one time or another –
just because we can doesn’t mean we should.
This is perilously close to crossing the line.
The clock chimed the second stroke of
midnight. Alopex shifted slightly, his head
starting to roll back so he could stare up at the ceiling.
It could be an abuse of power. It is definitely manipulation, despite what
she says. If she’d only said something
to them, prepared them in some way, it might have made all the difference. They might have gone into it and enjoyed the
experience or been saddened by what they saw, but they would know it isn’t
real. It’s .. only a possibility. One chance among thousands of chances. It’s certainly a violation of their
privacy. Going into minds, memories,
sifting thru them .. it’s wrong. I
don’t know how she could even think of doing that to her friends.
This house is so quiet. So big.
It has seen so much. I know this
house is new compared to the one here before but the memories remain stamped
into the air. The echoes of evil, the
faint, silent cries of fallen enemies, the shrieks promising vengeance. The memory of death, of blood and vain
sacrifice. All here. Just at the edge of hearing, just beyond the
realm of sight. And yet this house is
so quiet. It dwells in peace,
undisturbed by what has occurred in its past.
A warrior in its own right, guarding, defending, giving unconditional
shelter and solace. Strength in its
walls and foundations. Solitude in its
rooms. Quiet, understated purpose in
everything it does. Its weapons are
hidden, as all the best weapons are – love, honor, duty, truth. With these as shield and spear, enemies are
destined to perish like ships breaking on submerged rocks.
The clock chimed the third stoke of
midnight. Alopex sighed as his head
came to a halt on the pillow. The
ceiling was dark yet he could still see it.
By now their journey is a quarter
done, he mused. I don’t think I envy
them, being dragged thru a different past, one where they might discover untold
joy, unmeasured happiness, and to know that, but for one small decision, this
could have been theirs. I know it could
never happen to me because I am, like Merlin, a true-born, but .. what could my
life have been if I hadn’t been born to the flame? I will never know. There is
no point in my past where I chose, either consciously or subconsciously, to
follow this path. I can never be taken
back and shown a different view of the events of my life. Merlin spoke the truth – we have never asked ourselves the
question. We have never needed to. It is moot.
I’m not sure if I would even want to see a .. fantasy life, and for the
same reasons that I am so uneasy about what Merlin is doing now. What if that fantasy was better? I would wake and know that life could never
be mine, that all it could ever be is .. images in my mind’s eye, a sequence of
experiences in my memory. Surely, it is
better not to know what might have been.
Such a gift could detract from the richness of reality, could lessen the
vibrancy of what has made these people who they are.
The clock chimed the fourth stroke of
midnight. Alopex began to fold his arms
under his head as he listened to the soft, almost gentle pattering of rain on
the window.
The fourth stroke .. and now the past
is done and they enter today. The
present. By now, they will be resigned
to the journey, and feeling either satisfaction or fear. The past is an open book which resides in
the memory. It cannot be changed ..
under normal, everyday circumstances and rules, and it can be read whenever
anyone feels like it. The present is
more nebulous, less certain. The days
do not always run according to our plans.
Things are forgotten or put off.
Situations arise which we must deal with at the expense of other
matters. All we can hope when we rise
is that we will survive until tomorrow.
And the future .. well, if the past is an open book, the future is a
closed one. A vast ocean of darkness
under a moonless, starless sky. It
cannot be plotted. There is no course
to navigate, no landmarks, no shore nor harbor. It is unknown, and we fear the unknown. There is only one thing
in the future of which we can be sure – our bodies will suffer death. And then .. our future is eternity. A reward for the uncertainty of our lives,
and our lives become the past in total – an open book of memories to warm and
nourish us, something unique to us we can cherish thru all the days to come.
The clock chimed the fifth stroke of
midnight. Alopex settled his head on
his arms. The rain grew a little
heavier, a little more persistent.
When all is said and done, it is envy
on my part. I never believed, not
completely, that Merlin could do this.
We all know the soul can travel.
We are trained from practically birth to master the art of detaching the
soul at will. But we .. the shell is then vulnerable. If the body dies, the soul cannot
return. Merlin has broken new
ground. Her shell is no longer a weak
and fragile housing. It can function
independently and that is an astonishingly potent weapon in itself. And, tonight, she takes that even
further. Splitting the soul into four
parts ... Does she sleep while this
happens? Is she active? Does she experience any of what the others
experience? I hope not. A gift .. if it is seen and accepted as such
.. like this should be personal, private.
If they wish to share their experiences, it must be their choice. I do not believe Merlin would share what she
knows, if she knows anything at all.
Aquila is a seasoned warrior and she understands the value of
secrecy. I just wish .. and this is the night for wishes .. that Aquila
survives this ordeal without harm.
Merlin says I must be ready to put her back together again .. and I
don’t know how to do that. Nonetheless,
I am ready to try.
The clock chimed the sixth stroke of
midnight. Alopex drew in a breath and
released it slowly. Only six more
chimes to go …
*****
The clock chimed the first stoke of
midnight and Kat stirred, waking just enough to hear it. She felt a thrill of excitement. It was now Christmas Day.
That sweater Alex gave me is so pretty. She just knew what I’d like.
I’ve been so mean to her in the past.
I’ve shouted and run away .. and she was only trying to be nice. No, not only that, she was showing me that
she cared. When my Dad died and I lost
Connor, I never believed, not once, that I would ever find people who I’d see
as my family. But I did. I have.
I guess I’m lucky. This family
is .. made up. Manufactured. But they’re still people who care for me and
about me. And .. they don’t have to do
that. I guess they do because they
really like me. I love them as much as
a real family. And I know my Mom
wouldn’t have made it without them. I
guess that it’s okay for me to fight with them occasionally because that’s what
families do. It isn’t always happy and
everyone getting along. Sometimes,
people really blow up over nothing very much at all. Moving stuff without telling.
Borrowing things an’ not returning them. Putting things back but in the wrong place. Being untidy. It all comes down to personalities an’ knowing what makes people
tick. Alex is really sweet. Not like a big sister but .. kinda like a
cousin who lives real close. She’s
always ready to help me. She can be a
little heavy with her advice sometimes but she never lies. I hope she likes the gift I’ve gotten
her. It took ages to find.
The clock chimed the second stroke of
midnight. Kat began to wriggle farther
down under the bed covers.
I could go downstairs now and open my
gifts. It isn’t cheating. It’s Christmas Day. The clock’s striking midnight right
now. I know my Mom wouldn’t want me to
do that though, so I won’t. I’m not a
little girl anymore and creeping downstairs at midnight to open gifts is what
little girls do. I hope Mom hasn’t
gotten me something I’m gonna be embarrassed about when I open it in front of
everyone. Something with frills. Or a doll.
I think I’d die if it was a
doll. The others would just smile at me
an’ I’d have to lie an’ say it was great .. and they’d all know. I love my Mom but
getting her to accept the fact that I’m growing up is proving an uphill
struggle. I don’t wanna go on dates or
stuff, I just want to look nice an’ dress my age. Now I’ve started having my periods .. well, you can’t stop
time. She’s had to accept that. I hope she likes what I’ve gotten her. Working here in the summer an’ getting paid
for it – it meant I could spend a little more than usual. Getting time to go shopping on my own ..
thank goodness Peri was around to act as chaperone an’ bodyguard! She
says my Mom will love it, and she’s always
right. I wonder if my Mom will ever get
closer to Derek … I wonder if he’ll let
her. They’ve settled into a comfortable
routine and no one likes to change it when it’s working. The thing is it could be better for both of
them .. if they’d only take a chance.
The clock chimed the third stroke of
midnight. Kat finished her wriggling
and let warm drowsiness start to pull her back toward sleep.
I know
Peri’s gonna like what I’ve gotten her.
We had so much fun that day. The
store assistant thought we were crazy but I couldn’t stop laughing. Neither could Peri. I wish Mom could see us together when we’re
like that. She’d understand then. It isn’t that Peri is too old to be my
friend, she comes down to my age an’ she is so
funny. I know it doesn’t last an’, as
soon as she drops me back home, she grows up again but, for those few hours,
it’s like having a sister who just .. understands. I wonder if Peri’s gotten me a gift ..? Whatever it is – if she has – it’s going to be great. Just what I’d buy myself. My friends at school think I am so lucky to have a friend like Peri, not
because she’s fun an’ all, but because she looks so cool an’ dangerous an’ she
wears leather pants and boots with stick heels. And boys are scared of her when she just glances at them. They’re drooling too. She must set off so many teenage
fantasies. And, because she’s hanging
with me, they think I’m pretty cool as well.
When Peri first came here .. I wasn’t scared of her. I think it’s the best thing to have happened
in this house in a long time. Some
changes are good. They shake people out
of their comfortable routine. I wonder
if she’d help get my Mom an’ Derek a little closer ..?
The clock chimed the fourth stroke of
midnight. Kat heard the sound of rain
pattering on the window and she felt a fond hope that it would turn to snow and
make her wish come true.
Nick … He’s never been the easiest guy to buy gifts for because he’s so
quiet about what he likes. Not so much
when it comes to stuff he hates. I
think we’ve all heard him shouting then.
And now he’s married to Peri, he’s got as much money as he needs to buy
himself whatever he wants. Which makes
it difficult for people like me to know what to get him. Peri said something for his car but I don’t
know anything about automobiles! I hope
he likes the book I bought him. It’s
got lots of color pictures in it. Peri
was right. I did have a crush on
him. Not a terrible I’m gonna die if he
never loves me crush but I did feel something more than just .. what I
should. I wanted to make him happy
because .. when he smiles, when he laughs, he changes so much. Peri’s done what I couldn’t so I’m happy
he’s with her. One day, I’m gonna meet
someone who feels the same way about me that Nick feels when he’s with
Peri. It’ll be wonderful. I think I only felt that way about Nick
because he’s always protected me, right from the start. He doesn’t mind if he gets hurt so long as I’m
safe. How could I not feel something
for someone who’s like that? Nick is ..
a really great guy.
The clock chimed the fifth stroke of
midnight. Kat distantly heard the rain
becoming heavier and she didn’t believe it would snow. It hardly ever did so close to the water.
And then, of course, there’s
Derek. He is so nice. He can be nasty, even cruel, but there’s
always a reason and it never affects how I feel about him deep down inside. I understand what it’s like to lose your
father when you’re young. He has
learned how to deal with it .. most of the time, anyway. Sometimes, when he thinks he’s on his own,
he looks so sad. I just want to hug him
an’ tell him it’ll be okay. I don’t,
but I feel like I should. I think he’d
understand. He’s another one who’s
difficult to buy for. This house ..
everything in it .. what could I get him that he’d want? So I got him something I think he’d like. I don’t know, but Peri said it was a good
choice. Anyway, it isn’t long to wait
now until I know. Eight hours, maybe
less. I’m definitely going to wear that
sweater …
The clock chimed the sixth stroke of
midnight and Kat drifted into sleep.
When the clock chimed again, she never heard it …
*****
Merlin knew exactly when the numbers
on the digital clock on the nightstand showed a row of zeroes. She got a sharp pain in her head. Beside her, Nick twitched very slightly.
Here we go, she thought. Oh .. I really hope Alopex didn’t get the
right spin on this. If it blows up in my
face, I am gonna do some serious harm.
It is a gift. The truth often hurts and sometimes it hurts
viciously .. but, whether the life they know or the life they could have had is
the preferred truth, I won’t know till later.
Will they hate me for doing this to them ..? Will they even realize it’s me ..? I never wanted for them to hate me. I only wanted to show them that this is where they should
be. That this life, the life they have,
while dangerous an’ unpredictable, is the result of the best choice they ever
made.
Her mind started to fill with chaotic,
jumbled images and she gently shut them out.
I don’t want to share in it, she decided. The ability to do this
is my gift to them. What comes later as
a result .. is theirs, to keep or to try to forget. I just hope .. they end up realizing how precious this gift is
and feel grateful for receiving it.
I just have to get thru the next
thirty odd seconds. It doesn’t sound
very long but I’ve fought whole battles which have taken less time. This isn’t a battle though. It’s a journey.
Distantly, she could hear the
grandfather clock at the end of the hall outside. It chimed the second stroke of midnight. She began to turn her head away from Nick. She didn’t even want to watch him until this
was ended and Aquila had returned.
This is all because I had no idea what
to get him for a Christmas gift. The
others .. almost as tough, but Nick is impossible. How do I top giving him his own helicopter? Well, I just hope he likes the SIG Sauer,
that’s all, and that I don’t lose him for an entire day while he checks it
out. Alex is an ethnic soul, close to
her roots. The pashmina has got to
score points. Rachel, again, a creature
of habit. Very into silver
jewelry. So the antique earrings and
matching necklace has to go down well.
Kat .. my young friend, you are in for a special treat. You’re not being visited by three ghosts
tonight, so, for you, there’s more. Not
only as a Christmas gift but as a heartfelt thank you for being my friend an’
letting me experience what it’s like to be fourteen. As for Derek Rayne, Precept of this house, slave master
extraordinaire, the guy who takes dedication to new heights, you’re like
me. You inherited money an’
property. What could I possibly get you
that you either haven’t got or could afford to buy yourself? Something you would never think of getting,
that’s what. Thank you, Carl, for your
devious imagination and useful contacts …
With luck, it will keep Derek occupied for weeks. Maybe even months.
The clock chimed the third stroke of
midnight. Merlin knew six seconds had
now elapsed. Several days before, as
part of the preparation for this night, she’d timed the clock in the hall when
it struck noon. Thirty three seconds
precisely. For her, just over half a
minute. For others, literally, a
lifetime.
Christmas is such a strange time of
year. Well, it is for me. People say it’s a magical night, that, if
you listen really carefully, you can almost hear the sound of sleigh bells. Y’know, it’s true. Yet, when I was a kid, I didn’t even know about Christmas. It
wasn’t till I was five .. no, six years old that my Dad felt I had enough
control that I could take my first night off.
Until then, Christmas Eve was just like any other night. But, when I hit six, that year we celebrated
our first proper Christmas as a family.
Tree, gifts, big blow-out dinner.
Night off the night before. I
thought it was what everyone did – start celebrating when you were old enough
to really appreciate it. I knew December
25 was the date that people honored the birth of Jesus Christ but Christmas Day
has always been a workday. That hasn’t
changed at all with time. Hostilities
only seem to be suspended on Christmas Eve.
There’s an ocean of hope an’ peace swamping every evil impulse. Christmas Day .. when people suffer
disappointment an’ stress, an’ they eat too much, drink too much, the family’s
all there an’ no one’s letting up for a second … Business as usual.
The clock chimed the fourth stoke of
midnight. Merlin felt Nick twitch
again. She refused to look at him. She might not like what she saw in his
sleeping face.
Nine seconds in an’ the past is
over. Now they’re starting to live the
present. Derek had the longest journey
thru the past because he knew from a young age what his life would be. Rachel had the shortest journey thru the
past because her choice was less than ten years ago. Aquila and I decided that the present would be this year and not
this day. A day isn’t enough to show
the developments which have brought them to this point. A day doesn’t give them enough to prepare
them for whatever happens next. And,
then, they can sleep undisturbed. In
the morning, they’ll waken and .. what?
Remember in vivid detail? Have
only a faint recollection? Be sad over
what they’ve lost or be overjoyed that they’re here, in this house, with these
people? It didn’t feel wrong to do
this. I can usually tell when one of my
ideas is a non-starter. This time I
didn’t get that sinking feeling in my gut.
I wonder if they’ll share the experience with each other. With me.
I wonder what’s happening right now in each of their lives … Will it be too distressing? I hope not.
I really do. It’ll ruin
Christmas Day if it is. And that will be my fault. No one else can take the blame. But what could possibly go wrong? So, they didn’t join the Legacy. What did they do instead? What huge upsets could there be?
The clock chimed the fifth stroke of
midnight. Merlin listened to the rain
pattering heavily against the window.
She lay still. Aquila was using
a lot of energy doing this. Merlin
couldn’t add to the burden by getting up to walk around.
Now I know I can’t do this to myself
but .. what would my life had been like if I hadn’t been born to the
flame? Let’s see now … I would’ve gone
to school. I would have had friends
round to play and for sleepovers. I
wouldn’t have known William Sloan. My
parents would have gone to regular jobs.
I would’ve had birthday parties.
Celebrated Christmas from year one.
I would’ve had to sit exams in school.
Gone to college, got a degree .. or maybe not. Would’ve had to get a job.
Pay taxes. Take a driving
test. We probably wouldn’t have lived
in the house on Paradise Drive. I
would’ve had boyfriends an’ my Dad would’ve gotten upset. Probably marry the wrong guy, have kids, get
divorced. Grow old. Be normal.
Be scared of dying. Then die and
be surprised. Wow .. that’s
boring. Never having instant
weapons? Never fighting evil? Never being confident enough to walk down
the street in the dark? Never having a
really good set of rules by which to live ..?
I used to think I’d be happier if I was just like everyone else, and I
don’t believe I would. I think I’d be
miserable. Which just goes to prove my
point – better the life which is than the life which might have been. Sometimes the grass is greenest right in
your own backyard.
The clock chimed the sixth stroke of
midnight. Merlin closed her eyes and
forced herself to relax and stop thinking.
Aquila didn’t need that kind of interruption either. There were only six more chimes to go …
*****
In the foyer of the house on Angel
Island in San Francisco Bay, Marin County, California, the small carriage clock
on the table by the fireplace chimed the first stoke of midnight. The foyer was dark, the lights extinguished
because everyone was home, tucked up in their beds and sleeping. The alarms were set, all the doors were
locked. The foyer was decorated with
festive greenery, one huge tree draped in scarlet bows and silver tinsel. The fire still glowed faintly with the last
breath of the blaze which had warmed the guests at the Luna Foundation’s
Christmas Eve party.
This entrance hall had seen its fair
share of disturbance. William Sloan had
perished here. Tony Harris had been
almost fatally shot on its stairs.
Demons and those turned willingly to evil had been executed within these
paneled walls. Innocents had died too,
sacrifices to a greater cause. In the
old house, there had been even more blood spilled. Rachel Corrigan had once described the house as a magnet for
evil. That was a little unfair. Evil is drawn most to the weak but it cannot
resist those who appear incorruptible.
A house can be neither good nor evil.
It is the people within who give a house its reputation. And the Legacy house on Angel Island, dark
and slumbering on this early Christmas Day, surely deserved its reputation as a
bastion against evil. Its people were
only human but their souls, their spirits were strong in their faith and in
their belief that the war they fought, while it may never end, was the good
fight. They made a difference and the
house drew strength from them.
In the lounge, the clock on the mantle
over the fire chimed the second stroke of midnight. The lounge was warm, this fire still settling and shifting with
soft sighs. The three trees, one big,
two smaller, were dark yet glittered faintly in the failing firelight. Around the base of the bigger tree, gifts
wrapped in shiny paper and bedecked with bows and ribbons lay waiting for the
coming of day. This room had not always
been so calm either. Ghosts had walked
here. They would again, if they could
only find a way thru. And there had
been other disturbances over the years, disturbances of a more mundane nature. A family had lived here once, a family of
blood and not circumstance. A family
composed of one plus three – a husband, and his wife and children. Christmas can be stressful as well as a
celebration, and the Legacy demands much of its members. Sometimes, the burdens it imposed could not
be set aside for even a few hours of domestic tranquility. Yet this
lounge had known only peace. It waited,
like the gifts, for the return of daylight when it would echo again with
laughter and exclamations of pleasure.
Thru the windows, over the water, the city of San Francisco glittered
and glowed, and, faintly, the peal of church bells could be heard ringing in
the announcement that Christ was born, and mankind could rejoice in the hope of
ultimate salvation.
In the study, the ormolu clock on the
shelf in the alcove behind the desk chimed the third stroke of midnight. Even this room had a tree. A small one, barely three feet in height,
yet equally decorated and festive, stood in one corner. The study, home to daily meetings, had seen
any number of situations in their infancy, had listened to any number of
discussions on possible causes and solutions.
The study was the room were ideas were born, ideas which were then transferred
to grow in the nursery – the library and the control room beyond. There were not many tools in the study. The bookshelves had books, yes, but of a
more general kind. Dictionaries. Atlases.
Road maps. The study was a room
for thought more than action. A cozy, intimate
room lacking the proportions of the lounge.
When the people gathered in here, they sat closely together, reinforcing
the idea of teamwork. The study had
heard laughter and it had heard anger and words of conciliation. Mostly, it had heard words of purpose, of
question and answer, and of concern that, maybe, someone was working too
hard. It was a personal room, of
private thoughts and genuine affection, of closeness and of caring. Its furniture was older, more comfortable, a
place where people could gather to be with company or just to sit and be alone
with themselves. The chess table in the
window was ready for a new game. The
phone on the desk, often the first herald of bad news, remained silent yet
always ready, a little like the people who used this room each and every day.
In the library of the Legacy house on
the island in the Bay, the clock on the wall chimed the fourth stroke of
midnight. Its tall windows felt the
slight pattering of rain but this was nothing unusual. Many things which occurred in this large
room were not unusual although, if they had happened anywhere else, they would
have been viewed as, at least, remarkable and, at most, impossible and
terrifying. Demons had been called into
existence in this room. People had
planned murder and almost succeeded.
But it had seen more resolute courage than danger. War councils had been held around its long
table. Intense study of its books had
been undertaken under the ever present reminder in its stained glass
windows. It was not a room devoid of blood. People had been hurt in here yet evil had
also been vanquished. The library was
the heart of any Legacy house and this heart was strong. It had a deep, solid pulse of life. It was a room as dedicated as those who used
it. It was dedicated to knowledge, to
study, to investigation, to the making and advancement of plans of action. It didn’t frown on those who sat upon the
table to work. It was there to be used. Here were held the tools for the task. Providing they were treated with respect,
the library didn’t care how they were used.
The books were there for a reason.
It was presently dark and cold yet this was only temporary. It would not be long before it began to live
again, fulfilling its purpose as a depository of learning and the development
of ideas.
In the office off the control room
used by the Precept of this Legacy house, the small clock on the shelf chimed
the fifth stroke of midnight.
Like the office, the control room was
deserted and yet the room still hummed with energy. If the library was the heart of any Legacy house, the control
room was the brain. It watched with
electronic eyes, although, on this night, there was nothing to see. It listened to the entire world thru its
computer links. It was used to company,
often around the clock. But it wasn’t
all work. It had heard the frivolous
exchanges, the light words of banter which never prevented progress from being
made. Often, it was the only way to
lift the burden the Legacy imposed.
This was not a room meant for anything except serious matters even if
the way they were handled was not always serious. The links contained here accessed information in shadowy
databases, information the world outside would never need to know, would never want to know. In here, all the slight, inconsequential threads were pulled
together into a tapestry of dire meaning and intent. Here, the situations born in the study and developed in the
library grew to a maturity requiring action.
It had witnessed attack upon itself.
To hurt the body, attack the brain.
Blind the eyes, deafen the ears.
Isolate the senses. Deprive
those who worked here of their link to the outside world. Then move in for the kill. But the people who used this room didn’t
rely on it totally in the pursuit of their goals. The control room, while haven
and inner sanctum, protected and protector, companion thru the long, dark hours
of the night, was only another tool.
And that was why the enemies who tried to attack by severing the brain
from the body never succeeded. The
control room was only a brain and, while sophisticated and fast, it lacked the
creative impulses of the mind. Evil
couldn’t create, it could only subvert and destroy. The Legacy was, above all else, dependent on its members to win
the battles it fought .. and this house had the best.
The clocks in the house on Angel
Island chimed the sixth stroke of midnight.
Magic was at work this night and it
was only half complete …
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