Lumen.

[Angel]

Lumen.
A Tale Inspired by The Ecstacy by John Donne.

As, 'twixt two equal armies, Fate
Suspends uncertain victory,
Our souls - which to advance their state,
Were gone out - hung 'twixt her and me.

And whilst our souls negotiate there,
We like sepulchral statues lay;
All day the same our postures were,
And we said nothing, all the day.

Helena Irving sees things differently.

But she is not alone, there are others who have this ability too and one such person is Samuel Taylor. He approaches her, telling her all about The Agency and the creatures that stalk through this world; Ereptores. Thrown head first into a world she didn't know existed, Helena must navigate her way through all that comes at her; facing it head on.

[NicTei]

I was all set to complain about the slowness of this one, but have decided that the problem instead lies in me and my apparent inability to hold interest in something that doesn't feature zombies, beheadings, or vicious battles (or all of the above) within the first hundred words.

...that would be my roundabout way of saying WANT MORE LUMENZ KTHNXBAI.



EDIT:  And very glad I nommed this for FeSt, by the way. :3

[ViP Perry Tratchett]

And the quality is maintained in this latest episode.  Super stuff Angel.

[Angel]

Nic: You know you amuse me no end right?

Perry&China: Thanks! Glad you're y'all are enjoying it.

[araell]

Oh, its getting interesting now. Ive finally found another person who seeps slowly into the action. Keep it coming Angel, this is a good one 

[Angel]

8. An Opportunity

“What?” I gasped.

My heart was racing, blood pumping, breath hitching. He was blocking the door. I couldn’t get out. How did he know? What do I do? The palms of my hands were hot. Everything was sharply focused as adrenaline spiked my veins. I fought against the urge to bolt.

“Now, now Helena, no need to look so panicked,” he purred, sauntering towards me with his hands in his pockets. “I know because I’m the same. We are a rare breed. We were very lucky the government agreed to let us use them as a cover to find more people like us, Helena.”

I stood stock still, unable to shake the baby bird feeling. What did he mean he was the same a me? Did he really mean that? What if he was bluffing? My brow was furrowed, lips pressed into a tight line. I swallowed, albeit with difficulty as a large lump had formed in my throat.

“Wha-what do you mean you’re the same?” I choked out.

My body was shaking with pent up adrenaline and as Samuel moved ever closer I resisted my fight or flight instinct which at that moment was screaming to run as fast as I could from the function room and not stop until I was at a safe distance. Preferably on a train leaving Queen Street Station.

Samuel raised an eyebrow and smirked at me.

“Exactly that. I am the same as you. Is that really so hard to understand?” Seeing the confusion written all over my face Samuel gave an exasperated sigh. “We see things differently. You see them, I see them and many, many others see them too. Yours at this current moment is displaying fear. You have very little light around your face or body but with occasional flashes of light sparking outwards from your chest.”

I glanced down to where my usual glow resided to see he was right. White light sparked out with every fevered beat of my racing heart. Slowly, I met his clear blue eyes.

“How did you know?” I whispered, my whole body was rigid.

“By your eyes Helena.” I started, I hadn’t expected that. “You have the Seer Ring around your pupil. That’s always the first indicator. Then during my workshop you wanted to know about the soul after death and you drew your Seer Ring during our ‘psychoanalysis’. That was just to see if anyone was aware of having the Ring. Also, there were other pointers such as you soul watching when you were supposed to be listening to Amelia. Lovely girl isn’t she? Very hardworking. Does her job very well.”

At that moment Amelia appeared at the door. She was no longer the bright personality of flow charts and structure; she was demure – waiting to be spoken to.

“Yes?”

“Mr Taylor, the car is here to take you back to Edinburgh.” Her voice was quiet but strong with professional gloss. Although, I noted, she never quite met his eyes. Not to mention her glow was almost identical to how mine had been only moments before. She was scared of him.

“To take us back to Edinburgh.” Samuel corrected. “Evans obviously forgot to say again. Wouldn’t want you to be getting the train back like last week.”

He was voice was warm, lips curved into a kind smile but Ms Brown merely gave a tight lipped nod and hurried away. Samuel smirked and brought his piercing blue eyes back to lock onto my own grey ones.

“Unfortunately, it would appear we must cut this conversation short, Miss Irving.” He was purring again and he had me frozen to the spot, there was no way I could escape him. “We need more people like you Helena; you have a lot of untapped potential which is just . . . bursting to come out. Our job opportunities are wide and varied; you would be wise to consider them.”

A white and black business card hung from his fingers. My hand shook as I plucked it from him, I barely glanced at it. After my initial shock I was beginning to recover.

“Job opportunities? What kind of jobs could”-I glanced at his card again-“ ‘The Agency’ provide for me?” I snapped. “You expect me to fall at your feet in thanks? I don’t even know what the hell you’re offering and why I should even consider taking it!”

“Miss Irving, The Agency is specially tailored to people like you and me. There are a great number of things which can and will be explained to you, should you take up a position with us.”

“Uh-huh.” I had been right earlier; I did not like this guy one bit. “Well, let me tell you something, you’re not selling these ‘job opportunities’ with your cryptic manner. So why don’t you take the time to explain it before I jump in at the deep end.”

The silence was deafening as Samuel regarded me coolly. It was not only cool but seething. He was obviously not used to people answering him back, demanding to know just as much as he did about the situation. He was used to people like Amelia; content to jump however high he commanded. Slowly he took a step towards me, the sound muffled by the plush cream carpet. For the first time since he’d grabbed me I didn’t feel like the baby bird being toyed with by the nasty tom cat. I was every bit his equal. He’d said it himself. We were the same.

“Fine.” He was no longer purring but snarling; his face was set as if holding himself back. “There are things out there, Miss Irving, that cause destruction and cause people to experience the most awful pain. These things are responsible for some of the most horrendous incidents in the world. And we, that is to say people like you and me, are the only people who are able to see them. Ergo, the only people capable of killing them: the only people capable of protecting humanity against them.”

He was impassioned; blazing in a halo of burning light, pale cheeks now flushed the colour of roses and the Seer Ring in those icy eyes burned in a golden inferno. After a moment he collected himself and waited for me to respond.

“And these things, what are they called?” I inquired.

What surprised me most was my acceptance that what he was saying was true. He had confirmed to me that he saw the same as I saw. I was not alone. However, this thought made me deflate a little. My one defining feature was not so defining anymore. Granted, nobody knew of what I could do but it had stopped me from thinking I was another shovelful of compost onto the heap over the years.

“They’re called Ereptores. An Ereptor steals souls as a food source,” said Samuel curtly. He consulted his watch, a conspicuous timepiece with a large face, several smaller dials and large buttons down the side. “If you wish to know more then you may reach me on the numbers given on my card. It would be best to ring my direct line otherwise you would have to go through Amelia and I don’t always take transferred calls. Good day to you.”

Before I could protest he turned on his heel and marched away. He was gone. I felt as though I had mental whiplash. What had just happened? I took another look at his card and saw it was a fairly standard affair but the card was thick and high-quality. There was a logo on the left side of a sun surrounded by interlinked circles and on the right it read:

The Agency

Samuel M. Taylor
 Executive and Head Trainer

There was also an address of an Edinburgh building, two telephone numbers, a fax number and an email address. I could contact him anyway I wanted to. If I wanted to. Putting the card away I started to make my way home.


It had been three days since the survey and three days since Samuel Taylor had accosted me. I lay on my bed and stared at the card. Since coming home I had stared at it a lot. I knew next to nothing about ‘The Agency’ and all it would do would give me ‘job opportunities’. Then by what Samuel had said these jobs were centred around Ereptores.

I sighed and sat up. I needed to know more about this if I was going to make a decision. Scrabbling for my phone I tapped in the direct number given on the card. It rang twice.

“Samuel Taylor speaking.” His voice was distracted, bored, even.

“Hello, this Helena, Helena Irving.” I felt ridiculous using my clipped telephone voice. “I’m calling to find out more about your offer the other day.”

“Ah, Helena! How lovely to hear from you and so soon as well!” His greeting was warm but it didn’t relax me. “What do you wish to know?”

I thought for a moment, there were many things I wanted to know. “I want to know everything. I want to be able to make an informed decision about this. You did not sell your offer particularly well the other day. To be bluntly told that you are not the only person out there with this  . . . ability – it was quite a shock to the system.”

Samuel sighed down the phone, filling my ear with static. “Yes, it was rather unfortunate that you had not been informed earlier. I assumed you were in full knowledge of the Seer community. Someone has obviously been neglecting their duty. If you don’t mind me asking – how old will you be on your next birthday?”

I failed to see the connection between what Samuel had been saying and his question. “I’ll be 18 on 16th January. What has that got to do with anything?”

“I’m afraid it is very important Helena, you should have known about this a long time ago.”

As far as I could see, he was being ridiculous. I didn’t know anybody who could have told me about it. I had never said anything to anyone. Not since I was little and then that had been dismissed as an overactive imagination. I told Samuel this but was met with a cold chuckle.

“You are quite mistaken Miss Irving. Every Seer has a connection to another, usually by blood but that is not always the case. There are several other ways for a Seer to be born. You will have been no different,” said Samuel. He was incredibly matter of fact. I found him abrasive even at the start but it was something I got used to over time.

“It would seem that you need to have a chat with your mother. Ask her about the Taylor family and I’m sure she’ll be able to fill you in with all you need to know,” Samuel instructed. “Once you have talked, have a think about what you want to do and if you want to join us then come to The Agency building on Saturday at 10 o’clock. Good day to you.”

He’d hung up.

I found myself staring at the phone. “What the actual fuck?” I muttered. I didn’t feel any more enlightened, in fact, my head was buzzing with even more questions.

Throwing my phone down I rubbed my eyes and face, as if, instead of blood, I was trying to bring sense and answers to the surface. It didn’t work. The glowing numbers of my alarm clock were shouting at me to move; I had work, normality called.


I had been working at The Filling Station restaurant for nearly a year. I had landed the job not that long after my 17th birthday and had helped Noah get one there too. It wasn’t always easy, especially when the chef was in a bad mood which meant service was slow and my average tip went down. Thankfully, that night, everyone was in a good mood. We’d finally been allowed to put the Christmas decorations up which meant the season was fully underway.

“So do you know what you’ll be doing for your birthday next month?” asked Noah during a lull in service.

I shrugged in response. “No-one else will be 18 so there isn’t much point going out,” I mused. “I might have a Christmas themed party, just for fun. We used to do that when I was little. Dad dressed as Santa and then we had another Christmas dinner!”

Noah laughed; a laugh that made him light up like the tree in our window; a laugh that bathed him in soft light.

“I wish I’d known you as a kid. That must have been amazing.”

“Yeah, I used to think I was really special because Santa came to see me after Christmas. Pip ruined it when I was 8, told me it was just Dad – heartbroken I was, absolutely heartbroken.”

I hadn’t really been all that shocked. I was familiar with the glow and warmth that came from my father so all Pip had really done was confirm my suspicions.

My friend sniggered at me before hurrying over to greet a family out for their dinner. Work was far more fun when I was working with Noah. I did a circuit of the restaurant checking that people were content with their meals and taking orders for drinks. It was busy enough that I wasn’t rushed off my feet but I didn’t have time to ponder over my ‘opportunities’.

Eventually the night came to an end and the last couple went to brave the cold and windy night. Once we had banked up Noah and I walked back through town. We didn’t talk much, tiredness prevailed and the wind was buffeting us from every side; we wanted to go home. We parted ways at the train station – Noah’s mum was meeting him there to take him home.

Away from the comfort of my friend and free from distractions, the conversation with Samuel surfaced. Why had he told me to ask my mother about the Taylor family? It didn’t ring any bells in my head. I could barely keep track of my thoughts as I huddled deeper into my jacket, trying in vain to keep the cold out. It felt as though I was spinning wildly out of control; confusion whizzed through me, knocking my inner equilibrium.

Fat droplets of freezing rain came suddenly from the inky clouds, slapping my head hard as they began their lazy trail down my neck. I couldn’t help but shudder and I spurred myself on towards home. The rain picked up its pace to mirror mine until it was an outright down pour.

I ran through the rough winter’s night, the rubber soles of my canvas shoes slapping against the wet pavement. When I eventually staggered through the door of the flat I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the hall mirror. My normally shiny auburn hair was the colour of dark wood varnish and my face was flushed from the cold, droplets of rain still clung to my rosy cheeks. I huffed and shuddered as the warmth of the flat tried in vain to warm me.

The flat was quiet; all I could hear was the gentle tick-tock of the clocks and the rumble of the washing machine from the kitchen. It was no time to be questioning my Mum about my ability. It would have to wait.

[Angel]

And another segement for your viewing pleasure.
Really not sure of this one - how is the pace? Thoughts on Samuel? Not too boring?
Any crits are welcome!

[Angel]

Oh and meant to say, I changed the ownerless voices in chapter two they fit better with where the story is going now.

[Chinaren]

And another segement for your viewing pleasure.
Really not sure of this one - how is the pace? Thoughts on Samuel? Not too boring?
Any crits are welcome!

Your pacing is perfect, IMHO, Angel.  It's going very well indeed so far, a good balance between the fantastic and normal.  Really enjoying this one.

One, extremely minor, tiny thing.  The Agency?  Could we make the name a bit more... exotic?   Room 14,  or  Angel Hall, or The Red Group or something.  Okay, those are pretty crap, but I just think Agency is a bit mundane.

But apart from that extermely microscopic thing, wonderful.  Keep it coming!

[Angel]

Yeah, it is a bit if a crap name. I couldn't think of anything else when I was writing though, so I'll keep it as a working name for now. Hopefully inspiration will strike and a slightly more interesting name will present itself.

Glad you're enjoying. I'm hoping to squeeze out a new chapter soon.

[ViP Perry Tratchett]

I agree with Chinaren here.  A good chapter Angel.  It's moving at a nice speed and I like the character development.  Keep it up.

[Angel]

9. Yay or Nay

“Excuse me? Helena, who told you to ask me about them?”

Mum looked confused; her narrow eyebrows were furrowed over her dark brown eyes. Her light, however, was displaying fear; at least it looked very similar to how I had felt during my conversation with Samuel.

“A man named Samuel, he was at the survey. He told me we were the same, the way we see things. He wanted me to join The Agency – said I had a lot of potential. Apparently someone should have told me about all this sooner and he told me to ask you about the Taylor family,” I said quietly. I could barely meet Mum’s eyes as I told her about what had happened.

There was a sharp intake of breath. I looked up from my lap. There was no guise of confusion, only shock; just as the blood had drained from her face so too had her usually warm glow from her body.

“Mum? What’s going on?”

“Wait here for a minute.”

Mum got up from beside me and slowly walked from the room. Whatever was going on had disorientated her. I sunk back into the sofa cushions, wishing already I hadn’t brought any of this up. Drawing my legs up, I pulled a blanket over myself. Despite the heating being on I suddenly felt cold. Sounds of rummaging reached my ears, Mum was racking through the boxes in the bottom of her wardrobe.

After a few moments she returned holding several photographs in her hands. She sat back down next to me and silently handed me them. The top one was of three children. I recognised myself in my favourite blue linen dungarees with the mandatory white socks with the lace ruff and dark blue, buckled shoes. My auburn hair was pulled into neat bunches that sat over my ears. Pip’s arms were draped over my shoulders, his head close to mine. He looked how I always remember him during our childhood summers; slightly too big shorts, bright t-shirt and sandals. Our chubby, freckled child faces were split in two with delighted smiles. We were bathed in bright summer sunlight; the kind which people associate with a real summer; with nostalgia. On the right hand side of the photo was another child. A boy I didn’t recognise.

He looked a few years older than us but he lacked that childish glee which should come with summer. It made him look like an adult stuck in a child’s body. The boy was small and slight with messy ash blonde hair. The bright sun bleached his skin so it was eerily pale but his eyes – his eyes made me shudder. They were framed by bruise like shadows; pinks and purples which should not have gracing the pale skin of one so young. Those eyes were large and solemn; a crystal clear blue, the same fleeting colour as an aquamarine sea when someone jumps in. I stared at the sad little boy for a moment before I realised I’d missed something in his appearance – the jagged golden ring of a Seer.

“That’s you, your brother and Sammie Taylor,” said Mum quietly; her voice was soft and full of emotion. I shot a look at her from the corner of my eye. She was staring at the photo and she looked so forlorn that I took her hand.

“I don’t understand.” I looked from the picture to my mum and back again.

Mum took the picture and balanced it on my knee to reveal the next one in the pile. It was of a grinning couple on their wedding day. They were radiant with sparkling blue eyes and rose flushed cheeks.

“That’s Robert and Elizabeth Taylor, Sammie’s parents,” said Mum, pointing to each subject in turn. “I met Lizzie at University; we shared a flat together before she and Rob got married. When Sammie was born they were over the moon, even if they hadn’t thought he would arrive so soon.”

She paused for a moment.

“There was never any doubt at all about Sammie being a Seer. Rob came from a long line of Seers and both Elizabeth’s parents were also Seers. According to Rob, seven generations of his family had married Seer to Seer. So when Samuel was born his father decided that he would be made aware of his abilities from a young age and be trained to join The Agency. Elizabeth was sceptical about the benefits this would bring her child and rightly so in my opinion. However, she agreed that it was necessary.

“The way Sammie was brought up meant that he didn’t have any friends. Elizabeth asked me with you and your brother when you were younger but he just couldn’t relate to you two at all. All he knew was his training so he would only ever watch you two play.”

I tried to absorb the barrage of information being flung at me.

“I-I don’t remember – none of this is familiar to me.”

Mum smiled sadly at me and tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

“I’m not at all surprised about that Lena. When Samuel was nearly ten the Taylors moved to Switzerland so he could be trained in a specialised institution. From Lizzie’s letters it sounded like a world class establishment where he could train and still receive an education. Then, he took up his place at The Agency with his mother and father when he turned sixteen.”

“So, you knew about what I could do? What I can do,” I asked. If she had known then why had she dismissed it all those years ago?

“Yes, I did. It was confirmed to me when you were born,” she replied. “I didn’t say because I wanted you to have a normal life – a real childhood. Seeing how Samuel was scared me, he was practically an adult at seven. How could I live with myself if you were to grow up and have no friends – unable to relate to anyone? I didn’t want that life for you.”

Mum’s eyes pleaded with me to understand what she had done. I nodded; she had a point. I had had a normal childhood; I had come out with great friends, a job, a decent set of grades, a bright future. All in all, I was pretty lucky. Could I really blame her for keeping me in the dark about this life?

“Do you know what the jobs are? What I’d have to do?”

“No. Ask Samuel,” she said sharply.

“Oh … Okay,” I murmured, looking back down to my hands.

Mum’s hands appeared on top of mine before one cocked my chin round to face her. She was so warm, a comfort in my confusion.

“Lena,” her voice was clam; her mouth softly forming my childhood name and allowing it to flow from her lips to envelope me the safety of her love. “Whatever you choose, I will support you. I wanted you to grow up having options and not to be imprisoned by decisions your father and I made for you. This is a time of transition for you and it would appear that a new path has presented itself. Whether you take it is up to you and not me.”

A hot rush flooded over my cheekbones as my eyes welled up. My throat’s drawstrings were pulled tight, catching the unwilling breath I tried to drag into my lungs. My mother’s love overwhelmed me as the realisation I would have to fly from this nest hit home. Like wax from a candle my tears overflowed the edge and slid hotly down my face, carving salty trails in their wake.

I collapsed in on myself and fell into her waiting arms. My ear instinctively found her steady heartbeat and I listened as she rocked me. Even when the world demanded I be an adult I knew there would always be a place where I could be a child and I found it in that moment.

“Th-Thank-you, Mum,” I sniffed, “For everything.”

“Shush now sweetheart,” she breathed, kissing the top of my head. “It’s my job.”



“Shona, why not?

“No, Greg, I’m not going into it again. I’ve given enough reason. Do you – Lena! What’s wrong sweetheart?”

“Can’t sleep.”

“Why can’t you sleep? Are the monsters still there?”

“Uh-huh. What’s wrong Mummy?”

“Nothing my darling. How about I read you a story, hmm? Would you like that?

“Oh, yes! Yes please!”

“Shona, we aren’t done.”


“I want you to work in pairs and research your given poem before presenting it to the class,” explained Mrs Gillespie. She spoke clearly, looking at each of us in the eye. “You’ll get the rest of today and tomorrow in class with the first presentation on Monday. Helena and Alex you’ll do Holy Sonnet VI which means you’ll be first so I expect you to be fully prepared.

I took the offered sheets on the sonnet, glancing over them quickly as Mrs Gillespie handed out the rest of the poems around the grouped together tables. She was adamant that this setting would prepare us for university tutorials and as there were so few of us taking Advanced English it made sense. It suited me; the relaxed atmosphere meant we could chat our way through work.

We worked for the rest of the period on our poems. I didn’t mind Alex; he’d grown out of the surly ‘emo’ stage that so many of our year had entertained for a while; ditched the piercings and eyeliner in favour of a flyaway Tintin-esque quiff which suited him just as well. It also meant you could talk to him eye to eye instead of searching behind a heavy black fringe. He had, however, kept his penchant for skinny trousers which I, and the rest of the female population of the school, were thankful for.

“So where do you want to start?” he asked, gazing at the papers Mrs Gillespie had handed us.

“Well,” I mused, “We can start with a general over view before delving deeper? Sound okay?”

He shrugged but nodded which I took as a “yes”.

The poem itself was not difficult to decipher after a moment of focussed though. We had all become so well versed in the workings of a John Donne poem that it didn’t take us long to find many points to talk about.

“See here.” Alex gestured to the end half of the poem. “It’s like he fears God. By putting himself in the mindset of a dying man, he sees how heavily weighed down his soul is by his sins. Did he study Faustus?” – I shook my head – “Well, at the end Faustus can’t get up to God, because of his deal and sins weigh him down and he is turned away by a wrathful God. It’s similar here. He’s begging forgiveness so he is light enough to reach Heaven but also so he can be admitted too.”

I bobbed my head, tapping my bottom lip with my pen as I looked over what he was saying.

“So he’s concerned about the state of his soul?”

“Seems like it to me.”

It was the first time I’d seen Donne writing about the soul concerning God. Previously it had been about a beloved. Although, it was possible to argue God had replaced the beloved: how else did young men profess their love in days of yore but with a Sonnet? Same song; different hymn sheet as it were.

As I worked it slowly dawned on me that it must be possible for me to see the condition of a person’s soul. How I had gone nearly eighteen years and not realised that is beyond me even still but the realisation came as quite a shock to me. It was possible for me to assess how a ‘good’ a person was.

“Helena?” I started. I had completely zoned out of everything.

“Yeah?”

“Are you busy Saturday? We could put together our presentation then if you like?” asked Alex, his green eyes glittering with mirth at my daydreaming.

Saturday, that was when Samuel wanted me to go to The Agency building. With my sudden epiphany and the conversation with my mum still whirling around my head my curiosity about my ability had been piqued further so any doubt about my decision had disappeared.

“It’s a Mummy-Daughter bonding day on Saturday. We’re going shopping in Edinburgh and I don’t think we’ll be back till evening time. Unless you want to come over once I’m home?” I told him. There was a part of my brain, a very influential part, which was telling me not to say anything about my real plans.

“Yeah, Saturday night works fine for me,” he said, smiling.

I returned his smile and began packing away my work. There was no going back now. I would have to go to The Agency.

[Chinaren]

   Yay!  Another excellent chapter Ang!

[araell]

Finally caught up on everything (nearly). Good chapter Angel, this is progressing nicely. With regards to your earlier question of pace etc, i think its moving along perfectly with a mixture of quick and slow. Makes for enough time for the reader to take a break every now and then 

I look forward to the next chapter 

[Saint]

Very enjoying this so far. Stop worrying about the pace, it's kept me reading nine chapters in one go without issue. As for potential Agency names, how about somethin official sounding, like it would be if this actually happened? Government would call it the Department for Protection of Public against Unusual and Surreal Terrors. DPPUST. Nicknamed the Dusters.

[ViP Perry Tratchett]

I add my small voice to the support mentioned above. 

 

[Angel]

Thanks for the support!

I shall begin work on the next chapter shortly and try to get it up before I go to France next Teusday. There are several points in this which I still need to work out like; what's my conflict; relationships; where it's going in general. Other than that I'm happy with it so far and it's progression. Sooooo, bear with me!

[Angel]

10. Bucket Full of Information

It was fair to say that The Agency building was not how I imagined. Situated in a leafy street of Edinburgh’s New Town, it appeared to comprise of around four or five townhouses which had been joined together to make their Head Quarters. From previous experience I knew that it would have five levels; ground, first and second floors, a basement level and an attic. The street went in a gentle curve, creating the left side of an oval. On the opposite side of the road were more townhouses creating the right side and in the middle was a grassy area with a sprinkling of trees and two benches.

It would have looked beautiful had the sun been shining but winter had been exceptionally miserable and dense, iron rainclouds covered the sky; threatening to pour forth its contents. As a result the whole area looked dull and had taken on dreary overtones.

I drew my jacket closer to me as I made my way up the small path and steps to the door. The door handle was slippery and cold beneath my already frigid fingers and as I opened the door and found myself in a spacious reception area. Everything was immaculate; the white walls, the polished floorboards. To my immediate left was a desk where a young male receptionist was busily typing. The gold Agency logo was on the wall behind the reception, gleaming in the soft light given off by the gilded chandelier. My eyes shifted around the rest of the area; to the right was a doorway leading into the depths of the building and in front of me was a staircase that wound its way both up and down.

“May I help you with something, Miss?” asked the receptionist. He had a kind, soft face which had a smile tugging on his lips.

“I’m here to see Mr Taylor. He’s expecting me at 10,” I told him.

He tapped a few keys on his computer before smiling up at me. It was one of those fake, professional smiles that so many people plaster over their faces. He couldn’t hide the fact he hated his job with his near to pallid complexion –to my eyes at least- and distinct lack of light.

“Mr Taylor will be down shortly. Please, take a seat,” he said, gesturing to the seats on the far side of his desk.

I sat. The seats where a hard, wooden affair: the same dark, polished wood as the floor and the reception desk. There was no clock in the reception area which made me fidget, I don’t like being clueless about the time. It’s disconcerting. While I waited for Samuel to grace me with his presence, I thought about my morning phone call with Pip.

“Helena,” he had whined, “What are you not telling me? I know you and I know when you’re being evasive.”

I had told him I was going shopping with Sarah but he didn’t believe me. I hate lying to my brother but it was necessary when it concerned my ability. He didn’t need to know.

“Pip,” I sighed, trying my best to sound exasperated. “I’m going shopping with one of my friends. What is so hard to believe about that? If you’re lucky, I might even find one of those American sweet shops and send you some candy.”

My faux American accent on ‘candy’ had distracted him so the topic was happily avoided. Mum was adamant that I should have told him but there was no way I wanted to explain it over the phone. Also, there was no guarantee that he would believe me. How could I provide proof? It wasn’t as if I could magic things to life with a wave of my hand or transform myself into any creature on my whim. If I told people they would think I was crazy; I would think I was crazy if I was people. They would say I was delusional, possibly that I was mentally unstable.

Despite my questions that morning, Mum was impossibly vague about how she had come to believe the truth of this ability when she did not have it herself. It was something I would have to work on, I decided.

My musings were cut short when a pair of shiny black shoes appeared in my line of vision. It was Amelia Brown.

“Welcome to The Agency, Miss Irving,” she said. “Mr Taylor will see you now. If you would follow me; please.”

We climbed the stairs to the second floor. From the glimpse of the first floor I had it was clear to see this was a well oiled machine as there was an open-plan floor with many, many cubicles full of people tapping on computers and wearing the company given uniform of fawn trousers and black polo shirts. The second floor was divided into offices and Samuel’s was at the end of the corridor to the left.

Amelia led me through an empty door way to a spacious room with two desks on either side of a burning fireplace. One desk was empty and the other had a slight young man behind it, talking furiously down the phone. On both my left and right side was a door set in the middle of each wall. I was shown through the one of the left.

Samuel was pacing and was livid. Shots of orange and red flew out from his body from a white base at his chest. A wall of heat enveloped him and washed over me as we entered.

“I don’t care!” he raged down the phone that was clamped tight to his ear. “That may have been the case but now this is the new one. There is a thing called freewill, and it is being used. No thanks to you that is – Oh, you tried? Well, not hard enough. This sets us back considerably, you realise this don’t you?”

I glanced at Amelia whose eyes were cast down. This was obviously not the first time she had come across Samuel’s temper. There was a pause as the person replied.

“I see, I apologise, Sir,” he muttered. The apology insincere on his lips. “Naturally, I am always willing to take up the gauntlet of any challenge. A report will be made once everything has fully commenced.”

He stabbed the end call button before noticing us standing in the doorway.

“Ah, come in. Thank you Amelia,” he said stiffly, waving her out of the room. She scurried away, closing the door before her with a soft click. “Please, sit.”

I did and he did too. His desk was simple and did not separate us in a great expanse of wood. There was no clutter; only the necessities of office life.

“So, I take it from your being here that you have spoken to your mother and are ready to take up my offer,” he said. His voice was now calm but it was the same calm that is experienced in that hot, close moment before a thunder storm.

“Still with questions though.”

“Fine, shoot.”

“Can I tell the condition of the soul of a person?”

“Yes, that will be covered in our training.”

“Okay, how does an Ereptor hunt?”

“Paralyses its victim’s mind before withdrawing the soul with its hand.”

“How do you stop it?”

“A fight of the mind.”

“Care to elaborate on that?” I asked sardonically.

“Not really, your training will cover that question.” His face was unreadable as he stared me out.

“Right, fine. So everything will be covered in training will it? I’ll save my questions then,” I snapped.

Samuel had the amazing ability to wriggle his way right under my skin and lodge himself there. I let out an exasperated sigh. Faint red and orange flashes pulsed outwards from my chest as I quietly fumed.

“Are you sure? I’m a bank just waiting for you to withdraw knowledge, Helena,” he purred. Those pale, burning eyes regarded me as he leaned back in his leather swing chair.

“I want guarantees,” I said after a moment. “Is this job worth it? I have a life with a future, I can go to Uni, get a degree, get a job and do everything else that everyone else I know is doing. Will I lose my life outside of my ability if I join The Agency?”

My eyes dropped to my hands and I picked at the ragged skin around my right thumbnail. As the words had crawled form my mouth I had realised that that was what was keeping me from jumping at the opportunity. Like my mum had said, I was in the middle of a transition. I had thought my path was set. Perhaps had I known about everything a few years before I wouldn’t have hesitated but I had been so sure of my path for so long that for it to be derailed so close to the end game was disorientating.

“Valid concerns, Miss Irving. In being a Seer you gain a family of people who will give you more support than any of your regular friends are able to,” said Samuel softly. “It is true that with us you will not gain a degree but in our line of work that isn’t necessary. You will be trained initially for field work - to the highest level and gain qualifications that way. We are a branch of the Ministry of Defence and should you move from field work to desk work or a trainer post etc. then you will take the necessary exams and these are often the equivalent to an Honours Degree. The Agency is well thought of in many circles – though they know not exactly of what we do.

“As for your concerns of your life outside of your ability, I can make no promises. Every Seer must make sacrifices. For many it is family and friends and it is likely to be the same case for you. Indeed, very few Seers can conduct a meaningful relationship with a ‘normal’ person and it is unusual for that to happen, hence why so many of us are born into double lineage. After all it is not as if we can leave our work at work when it is built into us.”

It was an information barrage that pressed in on me.

“I understand that this is difficult for you to understand. This is usually why a Seer is told at a younger age,” he said.

“When did you know?” I whispered; in shock from the reality my ability brought.

“I have known as long as I can remember and I am two in my first memory. My first Agency mission was when I was sixteen but I had been freelancing for a year and a half before with my parents.”

Without much success I attempted to organise my thoughts and there was one more thing I really needed to know.

“Doing what we do – does it help people?”

“In short, yes. Yes it does. We can prevent the suffering of many, many people by doing what we do.”

“Okay. I’m in.”

We talked through my contract for the next hour and a half and by the end my head was pounding loudly right behind my eyes and against my temples. It was as though I had a ball being pumped up in my skull and it was straining for more room.

I was taken on the tour; dormitories on the 3rd floor, general workers on the 1st, meeting rooms and kitchen – ground floor and training area in the basement. The majority of the training area was taken up by a large gym with varying equipment to strengthen and condition the body. However, there was also a small three lane pool and several smaller, padded rooms.

“Everybody at The Agency must keep fit and strong. We are like athletes and despite our sport being in the mind we must have the physical strength to maintain our fight,” explained Samuel as we passed a group ranging from sixteen to sixty doing circuits.

“What are the wee rooms for?” I asked, peering into one where three middle aged woman lay on a gargantuan mattress, apparently asleep.

“These are the rooms to train your mind. This is the most difficult part of all your instruction because your mind must be elasticised in order to effectively fight against an Ereptor,” said Samuel. I was suddenly bursting with more questions but Samuel had already moved on.

It seemed utterly bizarre that I’d have to ‘elasticise’ my mind, whatever that meant.


Before I had left Samuel had given me a fitness programme to work on for joining The Agency in the New Year. It was full of long runs, muscular exercises, swimming drills and it even had an attached eating plan. To me, it seemed excessive but dearest Sammie insisted; having eyed the slight podge around my middle distastefully. Such tact! Amazing, natural people skills!

My delayed join up date gave me plenty of time to organise school which I had no objections to. He had told me to say I was going to join the MoD as an intern which wasn’t exactly a lie. While I doubted my rector would believe this I was told to give out Samuel’s card just in case. Further questions from others were to be fended off with, “I’ll eventually become part of the logistics team.” and then “It’s too complicated to explain.” Despite these stock answers I had no confidence them. Especially with Pip. I had no chance.

[Angel]

Yay! New Lumen is up!!

Sooo, we have quite a 'speechy' chapter here and that's not something I normally do. While with minimal description do you still get that sense of scene? I recently started reading Hemingway and he seems to use speech as the main way of moving things along so it keeps it fast paced and I wanted to try doing that as it's out of my comfort zone. Obviously not all the time but at certain points.

Actually this whole thing is one big writing experiment for me at the moment!

Also, thoughts on the Samuel/Helena relationship.

That's all for now!!

[Chinaren]

I didn't think it was too speechy Ang, though this is from someone who writes half his stuff in 'speechy'.    

Two small things: Right at the beginning, how did she know the layout of the building (inside) if she'd never been to one before?  (where does the previous experience come from?)

Also:

had a slight young man behind it, t

I get what you mean, but it just sounds a bit odd!

Anyway, it's good stuff once again!!  Keep it coming, still enjoying much! 

[Angel]

You do? I guess that fits with your writing style!

Okay, valid point. I'll fix that in the rewrite so it works out a bit better. I'll put it as a guess instead of absolute knowledge or something.
As for that description, what makes it sound odd to you? I'll maybe change that to 'waif-like' later.

[ViP Perry Tratchett]

Very happy to see this back Angel. The chapter was fine, sometimes you just have to have a lot of speech, but I don't think it detracted in any way. 

Moar.

[Chinaren]

As for that description, what makes it sound odd to you? I'll maybe change that to 'waif-like' later.

I just thought it sounded a trifle odd.  Maybe slightly built may sound more goooderer. 

[Angel]

Greetings readership! Just as an update, I do have a new chapter ready and waiting to go but sadly the saga of the shit computer continues. I've had no connection for about 4 days now so sadly you must await till it returns and win knows how long that will take. Alternatively, seeing as I have stuff that needs done I will take my pendrive with me to a working computer. Anyhow, keep with me, more is coming soon!

[Chinaren]

 

[Angel]

11. Change

It doesn’t take much for your world to suddenly become lopsided and a treacherous jungle which you must safely manoeuvre, else you find yourself hurting. Although what must be noted, is that it is never a sudden injury. It’ll be a slow working poison that creeps through your body until a darkness consumes everything about you.

I had known there was darkness in my home for quite some time. It stood in the corner and exuded cold. It breathed down our necks at the dinner table or curled up next to us while we watched a film; raising, in uncomfortable tingles, the gooseflesh on our arms, necks and stomachs. It smothered me in my bed, stroked my hair, chilled me to the bone as I hid from the hushed, raised voices and angry faces.

The voices snarled and spat, thinking we couldn’t hear them. We always heard them. It had been a slow dawning reality of why everything was so dark and cold but as I grew older I realised.

Pip had realised before me and he would try and keep me away from it all but you can’t hide forever. Everybody tried to cover it up with bright happy smiles but I knew. I could see it clearer than anybody that things were not right. When the light stopped coming out or even responding to the other then I knew something had faded. They pretended for a long time but in the end it wasn’t to be.

They sat us down one day and broke the news. I was nine and a half.

“Helena . . . Philip, Mummy and Daddy have something to tell you,” said Mum.

“But first we want you know that we love you both very, very much,” said Dad.

The tension rolled off my parents, the air thrummed with it and so little light emanated from them that I knew the end had finally come. In soft voices they tried to explain what was going to happen. I don’t remember much of what they said; only that Dad was moving out but we could see him any time we wanted. It felt as though I was in a bubble, a large cushioned bubble that stopped anything unpleasant from bothering me.

In the end it didn’t take long for Dad to move out. He had been moving his stuff for weeks before into a flat closer to his work so all he needed were a few boxes of clothes.

In the beginning, we saw him quite a lot but without meaning to we picked sides. It became too difficult to come home to Mum’s questions and forced smiles so eventually the visits petered out. Even the phone calls stopped and our father became a stranger.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving!” whined Sarah as we skived French on day before the end of term.

“It’s not like I’m moving away or anything, I’ll still be in Stirling,” I said nudging her.

We had holed ourselves up in the common room next to our radiator. Winter was horrendously miserable and the cold crept through the corridors and seeped into our bodies.

“I know but it won’t be the same as seeing you every day. You’ll be out in the big, bad world!” My friend’s eyes were wide and looked genuinely upset about my leaving.

“Big, bad world,” I murmured. “That sounds about right.” The bitterness in my voice was barely contained.

“You scared?”

“A bit. All this – the school – it’s a comfort blanket . . . I just don’t know what to expect from the job is all. It’s a new start and a fucking scary one!” I let a small laugh slip from my lips. Sarah gave me an odd look but smiled all the same.

I had become increasingly restless in the lead up to the end of term, knowing I didn’t have to do any work had made me not care. While everyone was preparing for the January prelims I was using the fitness suite. Although I had only been using the fitness programme for a few weeks it had already started to take effect; the monster climb to the top of the building no longer burned my thighs and the muscles in my arms were suddenly taking shape.

I would be lying if I said that running in the pouring and freezing rain was my favourite pastime but there was something about the feeling of accomplishment after a particularly long or gruelling one that made me want to continue. The Peak Sports Village, nestled on the edge of the industrial estate, right next to my school -and the sewage works- became a sort of haven. What else was I supposed to do when I had no coursework? I went there are often as possible, pounding out length after length in the pool. The drills were simple enough but after an hour -often more- my legs would feel hollow, shaky and uneven which meant I’d find myself sitting on the shower cubicle floor in order to recover afterwards.

Push off, kick, kick, kick, stroke, stroke, stroke, breathe, stroke, stroke, stroke, breathe, stroke, stroke, stroke, breathe, stroke, stroke, stroke, breathe and tumble turn. The regular rhythm of front crawl always had the ability to relax me. School had just finished. My last day there ever. The shirt in my locker was covered in ‘Goodbye!!’ and ‘Good luck!!!’ and ‘I’m gonna miss you sooooooo much!!!!’ in varying colours of permanent markers. There had been tears and lots of hugs, even from those who I had barely talked to in the six years of high school but that was always as it is with a premature departure.

And with the ritual of shirt signing there had been a subtle shift in my world. I could no longer call myself a child or even a student. I was stepping out as an adult.

I could never have these epiphanies while running or in the gym, it was always the pool. The cocoon of water blocked out the hubbub of noise and it was just me my thoughts.

That day I was out sharp, not even trying to sneak a sauna, because I was meeting Sarah in town so we could have coffee and exchange gifts. She’d come down with a bad throat infection and had missed the last week of school but was now feeling well enough to face the world. I changed and towel dried my hair before hurrying out of the changing room.

Sitting in the café, however, was Samuel. In his usual black, he was sipping a coffee and reading a novel by an author I had never heard of. He hadn’t noticed me so I hung back. It seemed he was totally at ease and so it made him look far younger than I had estimated, closer to Pip’s age than 30. With a resigned sigh I acknowledged I had to make my presence known.

“Samuel? What are you doing here?” He looked up with the most serene expression I’d seen on his face since I met him.

“Seeing you of course.”

“Yeah, that I figured out on my own, but why?” Samuel gestured for me to sit down. “I can’t really stay, I’m meeting my friend.”

“I’ll give you a lift then. I just wanted a word. Would you like a drink? Food?”

“Soy latte then,” I said as I thumped down onto the hard plastic chair across from my boss.

“Soy?”

“Lactose intolerant.”

Samuel nodded and went to order. All around me people buzzed with a soft, happy, after sport glow, they smiled and radiated warmth. No wonder Samuel had looked so relaxed; this was a very light, bright and happy feeling environment. I tapped out a text to Sarah:

[centre]*I’ll be a bit late, will explain once I’m with you. 15 mins at most. xx*[/centre]

My coffee appeared my line of vision along with a pot of watermelon. I glanced at Samuel who had taken his seat across from me.

“Thanks. Watermelon?” He shrugged.

“You liked it when we were kids.” I was taken aback; it was the first direct acknowledgement of our briefly shared childhood. It brought an unexpected smile to my lips. “Now, to business! I came to see how your initial physical training is going.”

Between mouthfuls I told him of everything I was doing and the progress which had been made along the fitness programme. He seemed please but the poker face of business had masked his face and I couldn’t quite tell. His light reflected that of those around him so I gathered I wasn’t to be in any trouble.

“Very good. I would like to make a few slight changes to the programme,” said Samuel once I had finished my impromptu report. “This programme was built around strengthening the mind as well as the body, to force the participant to reassess their pain barriers. However, you seem to be handling it very well. So I want you to go on some longer runs, the sort where you hit ‘the wall’. This will allow your mind to overcome the fatigue that is often experienced while engaged in combat. Also, I have taken the liberty of booking you into some of the classes here.”

I slowly swallowed my mouthful of coffee. There were some brutal classes on at The Peak and a feeling of dread settled upon me.

“Which classes?”

“A few spin classes, body combat and yoga. You come at these times and just give your name to the person at reception.” I grimaced at the thought but nodded as I took the timetable that Samuel was proffering to me.

“Okay, but I better have something to show for after all this training,” I muttered darkly. My companion smirked but said nothing.

After my update Samuel dropped me in town. His car surprised me, it wasn’t black or expensive. It was a little, red, three-doored Corsa and a gift from his parents for his last birthday. The short journey had the awkward silence of people who didn’t know each other well enough to make small talk. Although, it was possible that might just have been me being self-conscious.

We parted with a “Merry Christmas!” and I watched as he manoeuvred his car in the tiny turning circle in the centre of town before whizzing away. Freezing fog hugged me, gnawing on my nose and scratching my cheeks. I hurried towards the café where I was meeting Sarah, glad to get back to normality. There were a lot of people bustling about doing last minute shopping and nobody seemed to be in a good mood. The stress was evident on the faces and in the lights of many of the people I passed/bumped into. It was an opaque, milky sort of colour with hints of red. It was the sort that made me worry about their blood pressure. Admittedly I did see those excited about the impending festivities. Small children barrelled down the street like shooting stars and those who hadn’t lost their festive cheer amongst the commercialism were twinkling like the lights around them. It’s not called the most wonderful time of year for nothing. At least for us Seers.

[Chinaren]

Yay!  Another chapter, and the quality is constantly excellent. 

[ViP Perry Tratchett]

Agreed, another well written addition.

[centre]*I’ll be a bit late, will explain once I’m with you. 15 mins at most. xx*[/centre]

You have to use the incorrect (American) spelling for this to work.

[Angel]

what do you mean perry?

[Chinaren]

I think he's talking about the bbc Angey.  Spell it center not centre.

[Angel]

Blast! Okay thanks seeing that. Should have checked when posting.