Authors: Matt Drabble
“Brendon
” his mother exclaimed in a rare moment of unguarded honesty, “What are you doing here? are you alright
?
you look pale are you ill?” she crossed herself with a blasphemous crucifix as far as McCullum was concerned.
“Mother, we need to talk” McCullum voice was strong if not quite steady.
His mother stood aside and allowed him access; she closed the door behind him and followed worriedly into the lounge area to find McCullum already seated and looking impatient.
He observed his mother for the first time in many years, she was older and wearier than before, never a large woman she was now stooped with age and wrinkled with time, her hair now completely white without the vanity of
colouring.
Mary McCullum sat down beside her son stoutly refusing to give in to the uncertainty that had begun to arise the moment she had opened the door, he seemed strangely distant, his eyes were not his own, she wondered briefly if this was the result on any nefarious substances but quickly drove the idea from her thoughts as any such problems would surely be a failing on her part and that was not acceptable. This was her child and she believed impeccably in her ability as a mother, what ever the problem was she would be able to handle and control the situation; she would surely never have cause to fear her own flesh and blood. He placed a firm hand on her shoulder, his grip was a little too strong and the stab of fear raised its rebellious head once again, she swallowed it hard.
“Brendon, what is this son?” she placed an arthritic hand slowly down on top of his, her swollen knuckles protested at the relatively sudden movement.
“Tell me about my father” his voice was low and alien.
“You know everything that I have to tell you about that man” she spat dismissively, this was her own secret wound, one that had long since put aside and buried deep.
“I think not mother” his hand tightened on her shoulder
“Brendon you’re hurting me” she attempted to strive for a commanding tone but despite her best intentions her voice faltered as the fear finally won her over, “I’ve told you everything Brendon, he was a foul man who left us without a care; he did not love us and would not live to his responsibilities”
“I don’t believe you, what are you not telling me”
“Nothing I swear, where is this coming from, did he, did he make contact, is that what this is?”
“In a manner of speaking mother”
“You cannot listen to a word he says Brendon, I am the only one that ever loved you” she stroked his face and was appalled by his withdrawal,
“How can you betray me like this, how can you take the word of a worthless excuse for a man over your own mother”
“Betrayer!” McCullum yelled, “You dare to speak to me of betrayal after the lies that you have laid upon my life”
“He was the scum of the earth” she yelled back, anger now flooding through her small but strong frame, “He was worthless, he left you and me to fend for ourselves, without a penny and without a care in the world, I wish to God that he was dead, I prayed for his death every night before I laid my head down after another double shift, he hated me and he despised you, he..”
“LIAR” he roared.
His hand wrenched her arm painfully; her tired and worn joints screamed in agony as her shoulder was pulled from its socket, the room swam before her eyes as she drifted into unconsciousness.
“LIAR, LIAR, LIAR” McCullum screamed, each word was punctuated with a heavy blow from his enraged fist, the sound began as a dry thud but grew increasingly wetter until his knuckles had destroyed the flesh and began to batter only bone.
Gabriel squirmed in ecstasy, he felt the rage of McCullum coursing violently through his pumping veins, he clamped his eyes tightly shut against the intruding noise of the motorway and he could smell the spilling blood and the old woman’s bladder as it had emptied its contents across her proud sofa. He revelled in the pure savagery of the avenging son’s return, from the moment that he had healed McCullum’s wound they were integral to each other, whenever he so choose he could see and feel through the man transmitting his own dark desires and experiencing them vicariously, he had played upon McCullum’s anger towards his mother and merely amped up the volume to a fatal degree. Gabriel was learning slowly to control his burgeoning emotions and keep them distant from Raphael and Michael; it was still a matter of surprise to him that the others had not succumbed to the human side of their nature, for some reason they appeared to remain divine despite their lengthening time here on earth. All he had to do now was to exert an iron will of self control, it was not easy as the temptations for crimson experiments on the fragile flesh of his surroundings grew by the hour, as long as he could hold onto himself until he had the Cube, the Cube held the answers to every dark thought that skulked in the deepest shadows of his fantasies, he just had to hold on.
The enveloping blackness swirled around his head with dizzying speed and
ferocity
, Baine’s stomach churned over in protest at the invasion, images flashed before his mind, his fathers face drifted past lined with silent disappointment, his brother sat upon a wooden cot, his head bowed with regret
and his dancer moved further away from him longingly out of reach
. Baine felt their
disappointment
with a stab across his own heart, for as long as he could remember he had been alone in a world that he was detached from
both through choice and by another’s design. His universe had been self
centred
revolving only around his own thoughts and shallow
desires;
he had been living a life of superficiality without ever
realising
just what life was really capable of
until he saw his dancer
. It had been his own selfish anger that had originally propelled him along this path, the idea that anyone had been moving him around a virtual chessboard with contemptuous distain had enraged him beyond belief, when Gabriel had shown him the way his life was really laid out before him he had been so consumed with his own fury that he never stopped to question anything. It was obvious now that his predictability had been his greatest weakness, he had firmly believed that his fight was one of freedom from their shackles and yet every turn and every choice that he made was already predetermined for him
, he had only just begun to learn of the sheer empty
loneliness
of his existence, whilst the Gregori and the 11
TH
Order sought the Cube for their lofty ideals in order to change the world
,
Baine sought it for the nameless dancer who twirled before his eyes every time he closed them offering but a glimpse of the humanity that had unknowingly eluded him thus far, he fought for her.
The four archangels stood astride their dominium, which was in fact a large farmhouse and assorted outbuildings, from here thought Michael
,
they would begin their ascension. He looked to his brothers, he was under no illusion as to strength of their freshly formed bond, but in time
he was confident that they could all be folded back into the word. The cube would heal all wounds, it was the answer to everything,
and if
God saw fit to banish them forever from his garden of heaven then they would create their own heaven on earth. If Michael had learnt one human emotion from his centuries of occupation then it was one of patience, the 11
th
Order and the Grigori had squabbled over this petty planet for far too long neither gaining any sort of upper hand for any sustained period of time. After eons of time it all suddenly seemed so meaningless, here they would forge a new alliance of real significance, taking only the finest resources from both orders. They would dominate this world from outside of the shadows
, once they had the cube the trivial restraints of these meat suits would no longer hold sway, the cube held all knowledge and power of Gods dominium and would be theirs to wield.
Michael had
brought Raphael, who was unaware of his long held plans, along with Azazel and
Samyaza
here to his base. The farm and land was purchased
anonymously
almost eight years ago, Michael had known for decades that there would come a time when Gabriel could no longer be trusted and had begun to make plans accordingly. During the slow decline of Gabriel’s faculties more and more information had begun to seep from beyond his constructed iron vault of a mind. Michael had spent years piecing together fragments of thoughts and deeds, a flash of an image here, a piece of seemingly insignificant paperwork there, Michael’s patience had allowed him to wait and gather over two centuries worth of information. He had gained trusts and disappeared witness’ to his motives
, he had learnt the vaguest of outlines to Gabriel’s grand scheme and despite his carefully paced footsteps he had still only managed to skim the very outline of Gabriel’s master plan, he had to still show his newly acquired patience to wait until all had been revealed. Michael had sent Raphael and Samyaza to the large office in the plushly converted attic in the farmhouse to start getting to grips with financial paperwork of the newly formed order. He had total faith in Raphael’s accounting abilities as he had shown a frightening aptitude for generating money for the cause, Raphael had long since handled the 11
th
Orders finances from bartering tools for food to running multinational companies. He did not trust Samyaza to hold similar abilities but he knew that he must include the Grigori in building the foundations for the new order and giving Samyaza and thus Azazel full access to their accounts was the only way to proceed. To fully seal the alliance he had a special treat for Azazel, he lead his companion to the specially constructed underground
hidden basement. They walked across the muddy land to the hidden entrance, the pit had been dug and cleared several years ago, the interior was dropped into the hole, a bespoke dome had been built and the architect met with a fatal car crash upon completion. To his credit, Michael noted, Azazel followed without question, they came to a stop,
“Here you are my old friend”, Michael lifted the sod covered horizontal door, Azazel looked
down
into the illuminated gloom and smiled.
McCullum drove bothered by the inexplicable dull ache in his right arm and the realisation that he seemed to have lost a day somewhere, he did not remember waking up with such an injury this morning, in fact when he tried to think of this morning his mind was full of an impenetrable muggy haze that blocked any memory recall. The roads were now quiet having passed whatever small amount of commuter traffic would have been found, he was heading towards Haverfordwest, a largish town that housed the biggest of the Pembrokeshire Police Stations. A text message had informed him that his way had been paved again by
Irving
’s prepping phone calls from the capital; the locals had been informed that a senior detective on the news worthy
Cardiff
murders would be following a significant but highly confidential lead and was to be afforded all necessary assistance. McCullum knew from experience that the flash of a senior warrant card would be met with movie star fawning, down here the majority of an officers time was spent mopping up domestics and weekend fallouts, he had served a little over three years in uniform here and had never come close to an investigation of any kind, most cases, even those of a serious nature were swept up inside of the first hour, a quick scout around swiftly filled note books with eyewitness accounts leading to arrests of suspects still wearing the criminal evidence all over their fronts and expressions of disbelief as to how quickly a Friday night punch-up turned into a life sentence. He passed over the Cleddau Bridge choking at the toll fee and settled into the slow moving traffic stacking up behind an oblivious tractor driver advancing through his day seemingly without a care; he envied the elderly farmer greatly but soon grew tired of his mocking contentment, McCullum pulled off the main road taking advantage of his knowledge of the back roads, his mother had once, he stopped mid thought and his mind changed the subject without consent. He was passing through a picture village that lined the estuary with sublime tranquil water views, up ahead there was a car pulled over suffering from engine trouble of some kind, he was not feeling in the most charitable mood and was going to avoid the driver until he caught sight of a truly stunning pair of legs perched on impractical heels leaning under the bonnet, suddenly he felt in a more charitable mood. He pulled in behind the car and after a quick check over his hair and a swift tie straighten he exited and strolled over to the driver,