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USA, New York, January 10,
2004, 4:00 AM (Jan.10, 8:00 AM GMT-4:00)
Marine and her team were in
Washington when the news arrived: the gold saints were brought to life one
by one, at the price of a horrible
exchange...
Marine took the road to New
York, accompanied by her lieutenant, Nachi, and left the rest of her team
manage with the warefolf they had come to destroy. During the
four-hour-drive, Marine had searched the addresses and phone numbers of
the two men. And had found them rather easily, considering the two names
were quite unusual, even for a large and cosmopolitan city like New York.
She had phoned to their apartments, with no result.
She also contacted Doctor
Sean Brady, a doctor who had been won over to Ermengardis’cause for
decades. The doctor had already found one of the two men, and was
repatriating the second man in the same hospital, the Saint Vincent
Midtown.
Two hours later, Marine and
Nachi arrived in the hall of the emergencies of the hospital, as
discreetly as possible.
“Come, they are in room
401!”said Doctor Brady, showing the way.
They went up in a hoist, in
the total indifference of the interns and night guards, too busy to look
after the casualties of the E.R. Brady pushed the button of the third
floor, and turned towards Marine and Nachi.
“They are both seriously
wounded... Cranial traumatism and fractures at the ribs, the arms, and a
bad cut on the right cheek for Olgers. We gave them sedatives so that they
sleep... The pain would be intolerable without that... They are completely
groggy and won’t be able to answer your questions...”
Marine agreed, without saying
a word.
“Doctor, do you think that…
The soul swap… Has it happened already?” asked Nachi, obviously anxious.
The doctor set his glasses,
which were slipping unrelentingly on his nose.
“If I believe the little
information I’ve received from James... Yes, it has already taken
place...! ”
They walked into the room
stealthily. The two men were resting in beds, side by side, in a silence
disturbed only by the noise of the medical machines. Their body was
bandaged in several places: neck and shoulders for Torkmay, arms and
wrists for Olgers. For both of them, the bust and the head were also
banded in white.
Brady beckoned Marine to come
closer to the injured.
Marine came up to the man
whose half the face was covered of bandages, and refrained her from
screaming in surprise. This face! She had hardly seen him more than
two or three times at the Sanctuary, but it was just enough to remember
his so particular face. Aphrodite of Pisces!
Marine moved back of a step.
How was this possible?
She looked at him again, but
there was no doubt. These delicate features, these almond-shaped eyes,
this white skin, this mouth, fleshy and almost feminine... Aphrodite
of Pisces was in front of her, laying on a bed in a hospital of New-York
city, seventeen years after his death!
Marine turned the face in
direction of the bed were the second man was resting, and this time,
couldn’t help a small scream of amazement. They’ve been chosen for
their resemblance! She thought, her glance fixed on the face that was
observing her.
Mu of Jamir had just
recovered consciousness, and his large purple blue eyes were staring at
her.
Australia, Sydney, January
10, 2004, 8:30 PM (Jan.10, GMT 11:00 AM)
Aison Kheiron sticked
vigorously his surfing board in the sand, and started to undress his
surfing suit. He felt his calm had come back, after his fantastic ride on
the black waves of the Pacific. Of course, it was not very clever to surf
after the sunset, since the risks of shark attacks are multiplied after
dark. But after all, he needed this ride. He had felt the call of the
waves almost physically, while he was in his apartment of Sidney, in this
sunny but boring Sunday of January. He had spent the day fixing the
ceiling, his thoughts shared between his ex-girl friend, Kelly and his
work, fireman. In both case, there were not very merry.
Kelly had broken one week
ago, asserting that she could not accept any more the rhythm of work of
Aison, disturbed any time of the day or the night for emergencies. Aison
thought in vain that he was only 26 years old, that he "would find
another" girl, that after all, they had left together only for one year.
But it’s not fun to be ditched, anyway.
More worrying was his work.
Aison had engaged in the body of the firemen of Sydney four years ago,
with the conviction that he was born to help his neighbor, especially if
this neighbor was in difficulty. But after four years spent on the field,
being in close contact with mutilated of traffic accidents and badly
burned persons, he started to wonder whether it was not the time to change
his way. He was feeling increasingly sick to be the powerless witness of
so much pain and death. On the edge to suffocate, Aison had jumped in his
Harrier, his surfing board on the roof, and had driven to Palm Beach. He
had stopped at Barrenjoey Head, the wildest zone of this famous beach of
South Wales.
Aison had undressed the top
of his surfing suit when he thought that he wouldn’t say “no” to some
music and a cigarette. He caught his pack of cigarettes and his lighter in
his jeans, and the first CD he found on the back seat. A noise of broken
pane, then the sounds of metal guitar and the howls of the singer rose in
the night.
"Sometimes I
need to remember just to
breath
Sometimes I
need to stay away from me...¹
"
Aison lowered the sound.
There was nobody on the beach, but... He sat down close to his car,
and lit a cigarette. A first puff and life sound better. He threw a glance
to the island of the Lion, which spouted out of water, like the canine of
the great predator...
Aison drew a new puff and
sighed with satisfaction.
Suddenly, in front of him,
the sand started to whirl and formed a column, which rotation speed was
impressively quick. Aison leaped to his feet, affraid that this mini
tornado comes closer to him or his car. But against his expectations, the
column remained on the spot, and the speed of its swirls started to
decrease gradually.
Aison saw with amazement a
female silhouette cutting out through the flights of sand. He could make
out long hair, and a dress which veils floated around the feminine shape.
Then the column disintegrated, and Aison could look at the strange beauty
of the young woman. Her skin was white, her eyes shone of a splendid
blue-green, and her mouth had an exquisite drawing. Her black hair felt
down gracefully on her shoulders and along her body, until her waist. Her
black dress was marvelously hugging her thin body.
She held a gold amphora tight
against her chest.
Aison felt petrified with
fear and of astonishment, and at the same time, was completely bewitched
by the vision of this young woman.
She held a hand to him.
“Come to me, Amalric…”
The eyes of the young woman
were shining so curiously, and her voice was so unnatural... The fear of
Aison changes into terror. He moved back, ready to run way, but he backed
with something that he identified to a wall.
A hand seized his shoulder,
and like a clipper, maintained him firmly immobilized. Aison tried to
turned around, but couldn’t.
A terrible pain tore his
back, invading his whole body, and he felt down on his knees, half
conscious. Aison couldn’t see anything more, and his ears were ringing. He
threw an imploring glance towards the young woman, who he saw approaching
him vaguely. Then he fainted.
Glaucus looked at the body
with despise, and joined Ishara, who was dancing on the beach, the amphora
tightened against her chest.
“Mistress, can we go now?”
whispered Glaucus, giving a bow.
“Where... Where do we have to
go now? ”asked Ishara, whirling with grace.
“The mission, you remember…?
We must go to Hong Kong now...”
Ishara stopped her dance.
Here eyes stared deep in the eyes of Glaucus, like in search of her
memory. “Sonam Kalsang?”
“Yes Mistress.”
“Let’s leave this place!”
Glaucus sighed with relief.
Ishara seemed to have recovered all her reason. They vanished from the
place of their crime at the same time.
Aiolia wanted to howl of
pain, but his mouth remained hopelessly dumb. He had the impression that
his body was filled up of embers and would have begged anybody to open his
chest and removed them. And this noise, so strident, which bored his
brain! Was he in hell? Was it a new torment that the gods were inflicting
to him, to punish him to have once fight them?
He opened the eyes, and saw a
splendid starry sky. Instantaneously, he understood what was happening to
him: he was in a live body. He had a carnal envelope again. But who did it
belong to? How and why had he returned? These questions started to turn in
his head, accentuating the pain caused by the noise and his wounds.
It quickly became unbearable,
and the vision of Aiolia scrambled. Then the noise stopped suddenly.
Japan, Ermengardis
Headquarter, January 10, 2004, 19h10 (Jan.10, 00:10 PM GMT+7:00)
“Good! Make sure that he’s
out of danger!” ordered James.
He hung up the phone and
looked at Eleny.
“Shina found the Saint of
Cancer… And has just assured me the same thing as Marine: the victims are
chosen for their physical resemblance with the former Gold Saints.”
“A ritual of the Babylonean
priests… But who can have the power to carry out such a ritual of
resurrection!” murmured Eleny, as if she were questioning herself.
Hong Kong, January 10, 2004,
9:00 PM (Jan.10, 1:00 PM GMT+8:00)
The big screen of Central
flickered of thousand of fires, retransmitting a fashion-show of a famous
brand, rich in colors and strange clothes. Sonam Kalsang typed his foot
with impatience, waiting until the pedestrian fire turns to green. He
raised the head towards the screen, and thought that only crazy guys with
a twisted imagination could make similar clothing! A tram, bound to Happy
Valley and full of passengers, passed and hided the screen temporarily.
Then pedestrian fire turned to green. Sonam ran through the crossing, and
without slowing down the step, moved towards Lan Kwai Fong, the bars and
clubs’ district. He didn’t want to make await his guest!
Sonam had the English
nationality, but his origin was Tibetan, from his mother side. Raised in
England, he didn’t know anything of his motherland, Tibet, or at least,
the minimum, and had never been concerned with going back there. He had
lived in many countries, in Europe and in Asia, and for two years, he had
been employed in the Hong-Kong Branch of a big Swiss bank. This untiring
worker wasn’t counting anymore the hours spent at office, but knew also
how to enjoy weekends, practicing many sports. Rather tall -6’2 feet – and
featuring an Olympic form, he was very well appreciated by women.
This evening, he had decided
to invite one of his “groupies” and office colleague, Diana Liu, who had
insisted on having a drink in a cosy bar and then having diner in a trendy
Spanish restaurant on Lan Kwai Fong. Sonam had told himself that… Well,
why not! At 33 years, it was time to tie the knot!!
Sonam undid his tie and
sighed. He had run and he felt his shirt sticking to his wet skin. Nothing
worse than to arrive in sweat at a date! Still walking fast, he entered a
lane bordered of small shops, whose curtains were already closed. There
was only him walking in the street, and his steps were ringing on the
stone. However, he had the vague feeling of being followed. He slowed down
and turned around to check, but didn’t see anybody. Reassured, Sonam
walked a step forward.
A crashing noise made him
start: the iron curtain of the shop in front of which he stood opened
suddenly, revealing displays of porcelain objects wrapped in the darkness.
“What the hell is that…!”
exclaimed Sonam.
Palpitating, he came to the
open frontage of the store, and moved back when he saw somebody moving at
the bottom of the shop. He blinked his eyes, trying to adjust his vision
to the darkness. A woman emerged from the shadows and walked slowly in his
direction. As paralyzed, Sonam couldn’t move, and let the young woman come
closer to him, and could finally admire her in the full light. She was
entirely dressed in black, and her jet-black hairs were dancing slightly
around her. Then he saw her eyes. Large blue green eyes, splendid, but
reflecting madness.
“Amalric, you should not be
afraid…” she said, tightening a white hand towards him.
Sonam moved back, his heart
overcome by a sudden feeling of terror. He bumped into a kind of wall, and
turned around. A punch in the stomach cut his breath, and projected him in
the shop. He felt down in the middle of the trestles, in a crash of broken
porcelain.
“I am here to cure my lord
and my love when he suffers…” declaimed the young woman, who had
intertwined her arms around a gold amphora, and was dancing with an
imaginary partner in the light breeze.
Sonam couldn’t move any more.
His body was like broken. His breathing became painful. He had the
impression to inhale rather fire than air. He blinked the eyes, seeking to
drive out the feeling of faintness that was taking him... In vain, all
became dark around him...
Glaucus looked at the man who
was lying at his feet. His sharp hearing enabled him to hear blood
bubbling in his veins, and coming back to a normal circulation gradually.
Usually, he would have drunk to excess this precious and tasteful liquid.
But this mission prohibited him to do so.
He looked at Ishara with an
expression of concern and sadness.
“It’s getting worst” he
thought.
Glaucus rose on his feet
without a glance for the victim, who was suffocating as he was regaining
consciousness, and came to Ishara.
“Are you ready to leave? We
need to find Thian Wanli now…”
“Yes! He’s so close!” She
answered elatedly, “I could almost feel his presence.”
She vanished into the airs.
And so Glaucus did.
Sion had all the sorrows of
the world to overcome fainting, driving back at the very fine bottom of
his mind the pain. Then he opened the eyes: the place was dark, and he
could saw the light of the moon filtering, some steps from him. He tried
to move, but the only result of his attempt was to increase the pain,
which propagated in his whole body.
His body? No, it was not
Sion’s body… He understood it immediately. He had returned in a human
body, but not his real body, by an inexplicable magic or perhaps, by the
grace of Athena.
Footsteps, and then shouts
resounded not far from the place he was laying. Then he saw a silhouette
cutting in the moonlight. Sion couldn’t make who was coming to him, and
allowed faintness take him.
Macao - January 10, 2004,
9:10 PM (Jan.10, 1:10 PM GMT+8:00)
At this moment, Thian Wanli
was fingering lovingly a piece of Chinese furniture, checking the texture
of its varnished layer, ignoring the danger that was getting closer and
closer to him…
U.S.A, Los Angeles, January
10, 2004, 6:20 AM (Jan.10, 1:20 PM GMT-7:00)
The lieutenant of police
Helen Meltz ran in the room 911, where Doctor Greenwood was waiting her.
He had been alerted the day
before, by a message of the Great Master of Ermengardis that a ritual of
resurrection was going to be carried out on an innocent victim. The
instructions were clear; try to stop the ritual, or if it was too late,
keep the victim in a safe place.
Obviously, it was too late,
because the designated victim, Keleus Dioskuroi, had been found
unconscious on the beach around midnight, by a group of teenagers who had
come to end up a party on Santa Monica Beach. As soon as he had heard
about this case, the professor Greenwood, also member of Ermengardis, had
contacted Helen, asking her to come as fast as possible.
The doctor was standing close
to the bed, checking the tension of the young man. When Helen approached,
she saw that Dioskuroi was conscious. But his glance seemed to wander in
the space, questioning the walls and the objects, in search of the answer
to his question: "Where am I?”
“Milo?” asked Helen, bending
over him.
Milo turned his turquoise
blue eyes towards her.
“Where am I? Why...? ”he
croaked. The pain exploded in his throat and he couldn’t continue.
“Milo, you shouldn’t speak.
Have a rest!” intervened Professor Greenwood.
Milo threw an interrogative
glance to the police officer, and then closed the eyes. He was exhausted.
The doctor was right; he had to rest. The questions and the answers would
come after.
Doctor Greenwood beckoned
Helen to leave with him the room...
“He needs to rest... He has
two ribs broken, the thorax crushed, and some bones cracked... Any
movement for him causes a pain difficult to imagine. Moreover, it’s a
potential source of aggravation of his wounds...”
Helen agreed silently to the
explanations of Greenwood.
“I will give him sedatives,
so that he sleeps, and stop to toss and turn, like he’s doing now.”
“I believe that it’s the best
solution!”
“Lieutenant Metz, can you
take care of his security, until a mission of the Order of Ermengardis
comes and takes over?”
Helen bit her lips.
“Well, I’m not sure that I
could challenge the thing that put this strapping guy of Dioskuroi in this
condition, but I will do my best!” she answered, smiling to hide her
concerns.
Helen was not certain to be
able to defend Milo at all. Instinctively, she touched her gun case, and
checked that her Beretta was still sleeping there.
Macao - January 10, 2004,
9:30 PM (Jan.10, 1:30 PM GMT+8:00)
Thian Wanli knelt close to
the wooden stair cabinet and brushed the surface of one of the drawers. He
felt a notch in the wood under his touch, and sighed. The staircase would
not leave this warehouse, it was impossible to sale it! It was the second
staircase with a notch that he had found this evening. He would have a
bone to pick with the factory tomorrow morning!
At 31 years, Thian Wanli was
the owner of a company of import-export of Chinese furniture in Macao. The
market was brisk, and the small island was world wild known for its
Chinese pieces of furniture of good quality, and its very competitive
price. Native from Wangzu, in Republic of China, Thian had first tried his
luck in Hong Kong, and then, after a short trip in Macao, had decided to
settle a business in the import-export.
And his quick success had
encouraged him to work flat out, always more and more…
Thian crossed out the number
of the damaged stair-cabinet on the packing list, and then came to the
next stair cabinet, in order to proceed to the same severe inspection than
to the other one. A squealing coming from behind made him turn around. He
didn’t see anybody, but anyway, had the bad feeling that somebody was
observing him.
“Anybody’s here!?” he
shouted.
But no sound echoed to his
voice.
“I must be tired …” he
murmured to himself. And he concentrated again on the piece of furniture
that was in front of him.
He heard another squealing.
Thian turned around immediately, and discovered with astonishment a young
woman, lying on the top of a red-lacquered chest of drawers. Her long
black hair and her black dress were spread around her. She raised an arm,
her hand trying to catch a chimerical object above her. In her another
hand, she held an amphora, tightened against her chest.
“Who are you? Don’t stay
there!” howled Thian, furious.
He was going to move towards
the young woman, with the firm intention to dislodge her from the precious
piece of furniture, when a punch on his back sent him hurtling ahead.
Thian ran up violently against a small cabinet, which yielded under the
violence of the shock, and collapsed in a crash of broken wood.
Glaucus came to the Chinese,
who groaned of pain and sought his breath. He looked at the body, which
was tensing up, and the eyes, which were misting over. A last spasm and
Glaucus knew that the Chinese had lost consciousness. He looked in
direction of Ishara, and saw she was still laying on the table, agitating
her hand above her. She punctuated this game with cries of joy.
“Ishara Mistress, please…!”
Glaucus came to her, and lend
his hand, offering her to go down her playground. Ishara smiled and
accepted the invitation of Glaucus. Once she got on her feet, she looked
in the direction of the Chinese, and put a hand in front of her mouth,
like if she was afraid by the scene. She still held the amphora in her
other hand.
“Pain, and suffering, at each
glance I throw… At each move I make…”
She came to the body, fear
still painted on her face. She put down the amphora close to the face of
Thian, and removed the stopper. Volutes escaped from it and circled around
the bruised face. Ishara stroke the black hair of the Chinese, murmuring
the enigmatic words of the ritual.
The volutes disappeared. The
psalms of Ishara stopped as well.
She looked again at the
bruised face and touched lightly a cheek.
“The evil pain that affects
you is going to go away, Amalric!” she said of a trembling voice.
Dohko was literally
suffocating. He felt blood running abnormally quickly in his veins, like a
torrent which would have broken a dam. His breathing was also painful; the
air seemed to skin his lungs at each puff.
A body!
Dohko was in a human body! By
which miracle, he didn’t know it yet. But anyway, he was alive!
He tried to get on his feet,
but an incredible pain in the shoulder tore him a cry. He turned his head
with care, his neck being as painful as the other parts of his body, and
saw a wooden fragment of the cabinet, knocked on his left shoulder.
The vision of this
bloodstained wound seemed to worsen the pain. His ears started to crackle,
and his sights to darken.
“Stay awake, Dohko, Stay
awake!” he encouraged himself.
But despite his efforts, he
quickly gave it up.
Japan, Ermengardis
Headquarter, January 10, 2004, 10:40 PM (Jan.10, 1:40 PM GMT+9:00)
The phone was ringing with
obstinacy in the office of James. The Great Master, who was out in the
corridor to give orders to his guards, came back to his office and picked
up the phone.
“Yes, Gladestone!” he
answered. He didn’t even ask who was on the line. Only ten people in the
world knew this phone number.
His face became even more
tensed than it was when he entered.
“Double the guard! I want
nobody to go to the atrium!” he ordered.
And he hung up with
irritation.
Eleny entered the office, and
stopped on the stage when she saw the serious face of James.
“What’s happening?” she asked
with concerns.
“The Sanctuary of the Great
Ancients has been profaned…and, Ishara and Glaucus, drawn from their
sleep.”
Eleny moved back, as if an
arrow had hit her in the chest.
Ishara... Deianeira...
Eleny when she was a child... Her childhood in the castle of
Cornwall...Adult Eleny and her father, facing Ishara and Deianeira... Her
transformation by Deianeira... Her funerals…Her resurrection... Her first
murder... Ishara who was dancing and laughing around her…
Deianeira…
Ishara…
Eleny shook her head to drive
out these images from her mind. Images of her past, so distant.
James came to her and laid
his hand on her shoulder.
“Eleny, do you feel ok?”
“It is Ishara who practices
the rite of resurrection of Old Babylon!”
Eleny closed the eyes.
Something that she had buried in her memories was coming back to the
lights. Now she remembered: Ishara, the friend of her creator, Deianeira,
came from old Babylon.
¹
Don' T stay, Linkin Park, Meteora Album, WB.
2.
Lugdunum: Celtic and Roman name of the town of Lyon.
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