Birthright

The flickering of lights from a passing ambulance illuminated the alley briefly, the vehicle hurrying on its way to a callout somewhere in the suburbs. Cian lowered himself to the ground from the stairs that ran down the wall opposite the portal, adjusting his jacket and scrubbing his fingers through his hair. He scratched his cheek, the slight rasp of stubble a little more common these last few days.

His sound of his footsteps bounced off the walls in a soft echo as he approached the phone booth, the number now known to all who were helping out with the 'watch' being maintained on the portal. The canteen of water he'd left inside earlier was still there and he was soon wiping the back of his hand across his mouth after downing half the contents. The weather was warming up, and his patrol earlier had meant he hadn't had time to eat, or have anything to drink before heading up from the Cove.

The protective shield the old witch had put up seemed to be holding, and Cian couldn't help but wonder how long it could be maintained, and whether it would last as long as the portal. It had stopped anything from the portal escaping out of the alley, but didn't prevent anyone from this world from passing through it.

He heard something behind him and turned, hand already moving to the weapons stashed behind the phone box, eyes flickering with gold flecks momentarily.

After getting the number out of the phone box, and the market, Cian went to Ragnarok first, leaving messages there for the woman he remembered as Sabra, and Daniel, not at all sure either of them came there, but figuring if they went anywhere it would likely be there. He had no way of knowing how to contact them any other way.

Rhiannon had also mentioned a witch could help, so he made his way to the store he'd come to know was reliable, and where he'd been a few times for things, including Echo's pendant, and ingredients for the things Annie had taught him to make for himself. There was a young woman, Melody, serving and he asked her to pass on a message to Jazz, to contact him if she had some time, and was willing to help deal with a nasty situation that had come up suddenly.

"What sort of situation?" Melody asked, eyeing the man for a moment as she scribbled down his message and a contact number.

Cian looked at her, and wasn't about to expand until the young woman cocked her head to one side and told him, "I'm Jazz's... apprentice, you could say."

Cian eyed her for a moment, then following his instincts he told her briefly what he and Rhiannon had found, and where. "Rhiannon's standing guard at the moment, and trying to get in touch wi' some others, but at the moment we've no idea what i' might take t' seal it again, or if there'll be others."

Mel's eyes had widened a little as the man described the portal, and she nodded as she picked up the note she'd written. "I'll call Jazz and let her know," she told him. "She might be able to at least go and look, and help your friend, in case she needs it."

Cian was slightly relieved, not having liked the idea of leaving Rhiannon alone, but needing to get the word out to some reinforcements.

After he left the store he headed for Seventh Circle. He'd remembered a couple of others who might be able to at least stand guard, and the fight manager would know of some others who could be trusted.

After he left the club he headed back to the alley, the news of the events in Searchlight having had him put in a call to Echo, leaving a message on her machine: "Echo, it's Cian. I'm up in town and heard about tonight down there. Just wanted to check you are alright. I'll call again later."

He wanted to check with Rhiannon before heading back to Searchlight, let her know what he'd heard, and more importantly, see that she was alright. An ambulance, lights flashing and sirens wailing went through an intersection up ahead, and he had to wonder for a moment whether it was another victim of whatever had come through the portal, or just a usual run-of-the-mill medical emergency.

It had taken over an hour to answer questions, three times, and be allowed to leave, and Cian wasn't sure what time it was when he finally made it back to Rhiannon's place. He'd gone into the market almost on auto-pilot, paying for the purchases with money he didn't even count and receiving change he hadn't even checked.

All he could think about all the way through the dark was the eyeballs of the dying man. Peter Green, and his fiance Fiona Hindmarsh, now carted away to the morgue for examination by the ME, who had been more than a little stunned at what he'd seen. Enough to sober him up pretty quickly.

Ghosts. That had been Peter's last word, and Cian had seen the disbelief in the detective's eyes when Cian had told them the same thing each time they'd asked in the different ways they'd put the question to him.

He'd left out the part about the smell. Having to explain his acute senses wasn't something he was about to embark on, especially in circumstances like this. "Aye, ghosts," he said for the sixth time when another detective had asked him again.

Rhiannon wasn't home from the bar job when he arrived, something he could tell when he turned into the street, her car not in the driveway. He pushed the door into the darkened garage open and without turning on the lights proceeded to put the items he'd picked up from the market away. The light from the refrigerator was relatively bright, and his eyes narrowed a little at the sudden brilliance. He took out a beer and uncapped it, the top going in the bin as he made his way across to the couch, and sat down. A swig later and finally the scent of the alley and the corpses started to recede.

County Tyrone, Northern Ireland, 1973

If he squinted his eyes, rolled his eyeballs up, then cracked his eyelids open and slowly rolled his eyeballs down, he could begin to make out shapes and movement. His body ached all over, and the cold stone floor beneath his back seemed to be drawing all the heat from his body.

Which on thinking about was maybe not such a bad thing. His body ached, all over, and he let his eyelids seal closed again as he realised he'd never felt pain like this, not even in the worst of hits he'd taken on the field, or the aftermath of the odd post-game drinking session fights. This was the sort of pain that came from inside, from the very beds of his fingernails right through to the joints of his toes. Every part of him seemed to be screaming louder than the other, and the cacophony in his head was getting louder and louder...

"Cian, lad, y' c'n hear me?"
( Read more... )

Cian had gone back to Seventh Circle again, still not satisfied with what he'd learnt, knowing there was a good chance still to find out more about the attack on Hallowe'en.

This time he went to the bout manager and got a headsup on the fights that night, the card showing a number of attractions he knew immediately would bring in some patrons he could talk to.

He leaned against the wall, drink in hand, able to see both the entrance to the bar and the doors through to the area where combatants could go before and after their bouts. It wasn't long before he saw a face he recognised and made his way across to talk to them. Half an hour later he was walking out the door, face set, and mind ticking over. It wasn't just what he learned about the Hallowe'en attack, it was more, what he and Rhiannon had talked about even on the first night they had met.

Something, or someone, was drawing a lot of demonic attention to the area, and it wasn't going away.