A Meeting Of Fellows

The lights were off inside the small strip mall store. Some ambient light snuck past the window’s dark filtering and blocking sale signs. Just enough for a person to see where the counters were, but not enough for a person to see the drab colors of the walls and furniture.

All merchandise had been put away. The counters were bare. A showroom with numerous waist high islands and no chairs, it lay prepared for whatever scheme the next tenants were planning to spring onto a gullible and greedy public.

The door handle rattles. A shadow dominates just without the entrance. More rattling of the handle, with a barely gentle push on the locked door. The rattle ceases. Above the handle, the lock glows with a sudden red scribble of light.

The door opens.

He steps into the empty store front. He slowly takes in the scene, looking for anything disturbing the slumbering of the counters. Finding nothing out of place, he smiles smugly and gestures to those still standing without the door.

He reaches for the wall mounted light controls, but instead of manually activating it, he mutters something under his breath. The same red scribble of light that opened the door now interweaves among the lights’ controls. Overhead, the lights brighten and illumine the store, but with a strange glow. His smile deepens, he knows the light can only be seen by those with eyes to see. To the unsuspecting passerby, the store was still empty, the lights were still off.

His companions close the door behind them as they enter. The man that entered is dressed in a business suit. One of his companions is in the sun bleached drapes of an ascetic monk. Another man wears the dastar. A woman in business casual is chatting with a Benedictine nun. As the door closes, the red light dominating the lock faded.

A few minutes later, the door’s lock is illumined again and opens. More people from different walks of life come into the slowly filling store front. Over the next hour, the door silently greets over two dozen people. While many are able to speak in the dominating languages of the world, most choose to speak in their native tongue. Mandarin Chinese is heard during the telling of a raunchy joke, with the straight man answering in colloquial Danish. Clicks of the Xhosa tongue were accompanying the recitation of an intonation in French.

Along with the multitude of languages were a multitude of clothing. There were street clothes and business attire, but most everyone was dressed in some type of formal dress. Inside the store was a Catholic Bishop, a Freemason with apron, an Islamic cleric, an intercessor for an Amazonian tribe. Here was a magus in full ritual regalia, a seidrwoman with cat-trimmed cloak, a Bokor in full suit and tophat, and me.

I’m dressed for winter, with a brown and white houndstooth wool coat buckled securely around me. I removed my matching wool hat when I entered the store. No one opened the lock for me, it yielded to my will at once. I was greeted as a peer and returned the greetings warmly. No one spoke any names, but we needed none. We knew each other on sight. Names were merely a label and a hindrance.

A few more entered after me, then a headcount was done. Satisfied our number was complete, the man who came in first now locked the door against entry both physical and esoteric. The world was locked out, while we were locked in. We all continued our conversations, in our multitude of languages. The sounds tickled the ear, but we all understood each other and there was no confusion.

I found a counter to lean against in makeshift seating. Conversations continued around and with me. I had stuffed my hat in one of my coat’s large pockets, and had begun to remove the gloves when a rapid rattling came from the door. Everyone stopped talking and turned towards the door. The handle was jiggling while a scraping sound came from the lock. Beside me I heard someone whisper excitedly, “Someone is picking the lock? Someone is picking the lock!”

“I thought the front had the appearance of an empty store.” “It does. Maybe too well.” “Reinforce the door. Frustrate the lockpicker.” “No, the lockpicker wants in, let’s let him in, and deal with him then.”

One voice rose above the murmuring. “If they are meant to enter, there is naught we can do to keep them out. Once they enter, we shall judge them and deal with them accordingly. We may add to our number, or we may not.” Many heads nodded in agreement. “Since they are attempting a mundane entry, let them find a mundane space. Shade yourselves.”

As the lights were turned off, each of us drew shadows around ourselves, cloaking away from sight. I called my cloak to myself and pulled the hood over my head. At once, I disappeared like the others. I looked around and was able to sense them clearly. Here was part of the test, to anyone with normal sight, the storefront was empty. To anyone with esoteric senses, we were standing in clear sight.

I heard a muffled expletive from the other side of the door, then a sharp “clack” as the physical lock was successfully picked. The handle turned and the door slowly swung in. The lockpicker creeped tentatively inside, holding a revolver before her with a shaky hand.

She jerked her head back and forth, scanning the storefront. It was clear, she was looking through us. “Heh. What the fuck. There’s no one here after all. That ass didn’t know what he was talking about.” She stands up fully, gaining self confidence the further she entered the store. “There’s no party here.” She traces a hand along one of the empty counters.

Once she is halfway into the store, one of my cloaked fellows slowly closes and relocks the door. He muffles the sound, and traces a sigil over the lock. I know instinctively the lock now can not be opened by physical or esoteric means until he releases his hold. The ambient light is sharply reduced and she turns around in fear. “The door! Ah, fuck it, I’m inside now. The wind must have closed it. I can open it again!” Despite her words, she holds up her revolver in fear.

“Just a thief.” “Not just a thief, a shitty thief. Who breaks in without making sure they can get out?” “Do you see anything on her?” “No, she’s just another mundane. With proper training, she’d make a nice servant.” “So, what is she doing here?” “Wasting our time.” The murmurs fly around me in different languages. To me, their meaning is clear. The intruder might hear a distant buzz, much like an annoying mosquito, if she heard anything at all.

She is in the middle of the store now, surrounded by us. We study her, silently. No, she is not of our number. Just someone that stumbled into our midst. She turns around often, her instinct telling her she is not alone. “Fucking heroin, man, makes me paranoid as fuck.” She laughs to herself in nervous chuckles. “Aww, man, this is fucking awesome. No one comes here, no one knows of this place. I gotta tell the others about this fucking place. Fuck yea.”

One of my English speaking fellows leans close to the woman’s ear. I know she is adept at projecting her words into their thoughts. “Wait, did I tell anyone yet? Oh fuck, what if someone already fucking knows? Did I? Did I? Did…” The woman’s eyes grew large as she took the whispered words as her own thoughts.

She shakes her hands violently around her head, almost firing off the revolver. “No. NO!” She pauses, clutching the revolver like a treasured toy. “No, I didn’t tell any fucking body! Giggles told me, but no one ever believes Giggles anyway. Besides, I told everyone I was gonna score off Pinky tonight, so they all think I’m on the other side of town!” She giggled at her cleverness, revealing she was alone.

“Well, then. That settles it. She’s ours for the taking.” I smiled with predatory satisfaction at the cloaked pronouncement. I looked at my fellows and found they too were pleased with the circumstance. I added my whisper to the air’s buzzing. “I’ll uncloak. Let what happens, happen.” There were many heads nodding in agreement.

I waited until she had lowered the gun, then stepped in front of her and removed my shadow cloak. Instantly, I was visible. She gave a sharp shriek, then brought up the revolver to my face. “Who the fuck are you? When the fuck did you fucking get in here?” She glanced at the still closed door. “That door is still closed!”

I held up my hands in peaceful surrender. “Now, now. Don’t wave that piece around too much, you should always keep it focused on your target. I’ve been here, watching you. And now I’m here, in front of you. Tell me, what did you have in mind, anyway?”

“Fucking shut the fuck up, fucking bitch!” She was embarrassed at her fright, and transformed it into anger. Behind her, several of my fellows were ready to snatch her arms should she actually attempt to fire the revolver. “I have the gun! I ask the fucking questions!” I nodded in acquiescence, emboldening her. “For your in-for-ma-tion, I’m going to rob you, then maybe shoot you. That’s what!” She gave another nervous laugh in a mockery of triumph.

I smiled. “Ah, that’s a shame, really. Is there something I could do to change your mind about the robbery? Perhaps if I offered you an opportunity… That is, if you’re interested.” I held her gaze focused completely on me. She returned the stare, entrapped by it. I could tell she wanted to look away, but I held her fast.

“Who the hell do you think you fucking are? Some MI fucking 5 bullshit? You’re not from around here. No one good comes to this part of town! An opportunity…” She spit on the ground in disgust. “Fuck you, bitch. I’ll shoot you first and take what I want later.”

She extended her arms, intending to squeeze the trigger once her elbows were locked. A burly fellow reached from behind her, wrapping his arms around her head. He decloaked as he did so, obscuring her shocked face with the solidification of his body. She dropped the revolver in surprise, watching it caught in midair by another cloaked fellow. She tried clawing at the strong arms holding her fast, but to no avail. All that was visible of her face was her eyes, that was transitioning from surprise to horror.

“A pity. And to think I argued in favor of you.” Her eyes pleaded with me. I looked up to the fellow holding her. “She’s yours to do with as you please. My interest in her is done.” He nodded, and jerked her head to one side while jerking her body to the other. She crumpled into a heap, her head rolling backwards at an entirely wrong angle.

“You allowed her to be killed. Usually, you’re trying to prevent harm to the mundanes.” The fellow who caught the revolver decloaked and inspected the weapon. “Five spent rounds, one unspent round of dubious quality. You may have saved her from a worse death, the chamber is rusted. This weapon is treacherous.” The others decloaked and gathered around her cooling body.

I considered his words while staring at her, feeling with my senses the last connections to her spirit detaching and fading. “I’ve been through much lately, my friend. Let’s just say I have a different view of the world now.” He nodded.

“What shall we do with the body?” “Dump it in the alley out back.” “Burn it in the field across the way!” “No, silly, that will attract too much attention. Dump it in the canal.”

“I’ll take it.” Another fellow stepped forward. He spoke German, but I knew him to be Austrian in nationality. “I have a use for it, since the only fatal damage is a broken neck.” A few fellows teased him about necrophilia, but I knew him to be a powerful grimoiric magus. He reaches into his magus robes and retrieves a folded piece of wax paper. He unwraps it, revealing a spot of something dark and greasy. Muttering incantations, he makes a mark on the dead woman’s face. Pulling down her top, he makes another mark over her heart.

The Austrian refolds the wax paper and places it back in the interior pocket. With ease, he picks up the body and hefts it over his shoulder. He turns to face me while carrying the dead woman. “Our fellow speaks true. Normally you would have been trying to save the woman from her fate.”

“Is this a problem, Good Sir?” I stare at him without emotion, without concern.

“No, Good M’am. This is not a problem. Just, an advancement, on your part.” He asks for the door to be unbound and opened for him. As the door is opened, the time shifts from day, to night. He shadow cloaks himself again, hiding him and the burden he carries. With definite strides, he steps into the German night. The door is closed behind him, and the outside returns to the American day it started in.

The door is resealed. “Well, now that we’ve had our amusement for the day, shall we get on with business, then? We have much to discuss. Our Fellow is apprised of these things already, he shall miss nothing, but we do need to begin. All in favor?”

The store echoed with our cry of “Aye!” in unison. And the meeting truly began.

~~~ fin ~~~

Make of that, what you may.