Homeward Bound (Journeyman Book 1) (24 page)

“Oh, you wouldn’t have. Charles didn't use his real name when he was in the Order, as if a simple name change could protect us from all the things that came our way. He went by the name Landon Merryforth. God awful, isn't it?”

Adrienne was certainly aware of that name. “Maniacal Merryforth?” she asked with the enthusiasm of a elementary school child. Realizing what she said, she looked apologetically at Madeline. “No offense.”

“None taken my dear, yet we are talking about one and the same,” she replied. “Here, take a seat.”

The three of them sat in the living room, Gage and Adrienne taking up the sofa while his mother hovered over the armchair.

“Loopy Landon, Maniacal Merryforth - these and many other nicknames were bestowed on your father after his odd and disturbing behavior came to light. He had taken a liking to – no quite an obsession for – collecting rare and powerful artifacts, along with other paranormal things. How he came to collect them is unknown to me, but I would not be surprised if there was criminal activity involved with some, if not most, of the acquisitions. Only a handful were gifts and so as you can expect, this made us a target for many different groups, none more foul and dangerous than the Noctis.

“But, he wasn’t always so crazy or so completely driven, at least not with trinkets and treasure. He used to be madly in love… with me. Then when you came into the world, the both of us. Let’s see, he joined the Journeyman back in 1979 if I remember correctly. Yes, yes, it was two years after we first met. I had no idea supernatural things even existed before I met him, apart from stories and fairy tales. But he showed me things I could never imagine. Great and terrible things. He and I both believed that it was possible to live a happy, virtually normal life while he was in the Order and for six years we did. Everything was remarkable, almost magical, the best day being July 27, 1985 – the day you were born.”

“I do remember having a great childhood here,” Gage said, reminiscing.

“Indeed all our time in those days was wonderful,” she continued. “This is home and it will always be. However, when you eventually left to live your own life, it was as if your father needed something to pour that extra time and attention into. We had both aged, and I’m not going to say the love I had for him went away. But that said, it was certainly diminished and so it didn’t fulfill him as it once had. So, Charles became consumed again by the unknown and the supernatural, and we all began to suffer for it.”

A childhood memory ran into Gage’s head at that moment – visions of a ruined holiday. “Was this around the same time we all had that huge blow up at Thanksgiving and ended up missing Christmas together for the first time ever?”

She nodded. “Indeed. From then on, we decided it best to try and frame our troubles as ‘traditional’ marital issues, versus the whole otherworldly thing - it was just far easier to accept all around. He had realized, perhaps too late, that what he had become was a shell of his former self and he didn’t want you to have any part of it for fear of the same thing happening to you. But sometimes even the best of intentions are in no way good enough to prepare you for what is to come. Once your father obtained the amulet and chain after his travels to the Middle East, the biggest target imaginable was painted on us.”

“Amulet and chain?” asked Adrienne.

“Two artifacts of immense power, relics from a more ancient time. Charles had extensive notes on them. He ended up delving too deep in a world he understood very little of, despite his many years as a Journeyman. It’s amazing how much we know pales in comparison to the magnitude of what we don’t.”

Gage took a moment to stand up and stretch, shifting his neck from one side to another before cracking his knuckles. “So, this lil’ trinket and collar?” he asked. “Where are they now? Tucked away in some Order vault I imagine. I hear that's where they put the most dangerous and powerful items.”
He shot a look over to Adrienne. “See, I do listen sometimes.”

Madeline continued, her voice growing antsy. “Well, they are locked away…”

Gage was curious about that response, so pressed her. “Okay, in which vault?”

His mother’s eyes drifted down to the rug beneath their feet.

“YOU HAVE GOT TO
be joking!” Gage blurted out as he dropped himself back onto the sofa.

“I wish I was,” Madeline confirmed. “Ultimately, all of your father’s collection was stored in the cellar. It’s sealed with all sorts of magical protections. No supernatural creatures are able to get down there through the door or burrow into the cellar from the outside. It is essentially a lock box as powerful and secure as any of the Order’s vaults.”

Adrienne was amazed at what she was hearing, having no idea such a thing was even possible. She was intrigued by both the level of skill needed to pull something like that off, but also the hubris of a man who could conceive something like it.

“So all of that… is still down there?” she asked.

“Yes,” Madeline answered. “As time passed, Charles suspected the Noctis would come looking for blood. Toward the end of our time he removed all the barriers around the property and focused entirely on sealing the cellar, even making sure the only way to open the door again was by one of us after death. I suppose that’s why I was still tied here and able to come back as a ghost. Unfinished business and all that.”

“Wait, so you’re suggesting we actually take out -” Gage started to ask with heaps of trepidation.

“Yes,” she said before he finished the sentence.

“But why?” he rebutted. “It’s secured down there and the Noctis are unable to get to it.”

She sighed. “All I can ask you to do is read your father’s notes; they’re also down there. Perhaps that will shed some light on the situation.”

Gage glanced over to an ornate wooden clock sitting on the mantle, an antique his mom had picked up from an estate auction in Aspen when he was five. It seemed that collecting old and ancient things was an unavoidable family trait and he was steadfastly against doing the same himself.

Its hands indicated that an hour and ten minutes had passed and while the conversation and stories were engrossing, he was getting restless.

“Might as well see what we have down there,” he said, eagerly wanting to change pace. He grabbed the coffee table before anyone could say no and effortlessly lifted it out of the way.

“What? Right now?” Adrienne asked.

“Yeah, time’s wasting.”

Madeline floated into an upright position and held out her hand. “Well alrighty then. I told you Adrienne, he's as stubborn as a mule.”

“With the attention span of a fork,” she added.

“With the attention span of a fork,” Gage mocked in a high pitched voice. “A damn manly fork.”

Both women laughed and Madeline pushed the rug away with simple wave, rolling it up neatly at the base of the sofa. She then hovered over the door’s recessed handle, reaching out to grab it, but her hand passed straight through the metal ring.

Adrienne recounted what Madeline had said:
the only way to open the door was by one of us after death.
She was
curious to see that in action and so repositioned herself for a better look.

Madeline tried again, this time closing her eyes and concentrating fully. Her hand clouded, becoming opaque as she grabbed hold of the now glowing handle. A faint whistle coursed through the wood as she pulled up. The door was now open and stale air rushed out to greet the party.

Adrienne's eyes were again wide as she stuttered, “I can’t even… How… How were you able to grab that iron ring?” A thousand more questions popped into her inquisitive mind, balanced with a bit of candor. “It's not possible, or shouldn't be.”

“There are certain things in this house, down there, that allow the rules to be bent if you will. Not broken mind you, as they're absolute.”

She held up the ghostly hand used to open the door and a solid line of ebony ran clear across it. The darkness began to flake away and her form underneath became ethereal once more, but had grown notably dimmer where the metal touched her.

Adrienne replied with wonder, “I’ll never cease to be amazed.”

“Don't ever lose that,” she replied motherly, flexing her hand a couple of times, “as the world is full of many wonders. Despite the darkness, it is an amazing place.”

Gage stepped up to the opening and looked into the dank and musty hole. A ladder plunged down from the side closest to him.

“Anything I should be concerned about down there?” he asked.

“No,” Madeline replied. “At least nothing I can remember.”

“Great. Wish me luck,” he said as he straddled the ladder and slid down into the gray void.

His boots hit the floor with a resounding
thud
, echoing for what seemed like ages. Years of caked dust rose up around him, forcing him to clear a path with a few swings of his arms.

The cellar was a shambles, a disarrayed assortment of aged notes and endless, unmarked boxes. He couldn’t make out much more since the light streaming in from the open hatch fell off unnaturally fast.

Searching around the entrance for some kind of switch, he soon found a thin cord dangling just behind the ladder and tugged on it.

A set of fluorescent lighting fixtures lining all four walls sprang to life. Dim at first, they slowly grew brighter and filled the room with a pale radiance.

The cavernous space turned out to be deceptively small, no more than twenty feet in any direction from where he stood. However, the light didn’t diminish the number of boxes that had been crammed into the tight space.

Not knowing where to begin the unsurmountable task of sorting through it all, he grabbed a random box that happened to be close by and opened it up.

Inside he found a pair of decrepit leather boots and a bearded hatchet decorated with serrated edging. A hole was in the center of the blade. There was also an ornate helmet crowned with long horns wrapped in cast vines, and a palm sized coin, white with a red cross upon it, which grew into a full size battle shield when held firmly by the handle in one's hand.

Setting that box at the base of the ladder, he reached out for another, finding a hundred or so animal figurines mixed in with stones that had been inscribed with ancient writing. A mummified left hand was buried beneath them all, along with a set of five fatty candles, each with wicks no thicker than a hair.

Gage stared at the wizened appendage for a second.
Surely this isn’t…
he thought to himself before shaking his head and returning the artifact to the box and closing the lid.

He picked up another; an assortment of peculiar clothing ranging from shirts, pants, and caps were neatly folded inside.

As exciting as looking through all these boxes was, he had no clue what most of the items he was turning up actually did. In fact, some of them were so strange looking that their intended function was a mystery too.

He decided the best bet would be to take some back to the Lodge so Joey could have a look and possibly unlock their secrets. If anyone had the drive to do it, he did. However, for that to have any hopes of succeeding within their lifetime, he would need some notes to serve as a starting point. So, albeit reluctantly, he set about looking for any paperwork he could find.

The next few boxes left him empty handed with respect to the document hunt, but nonetheless they were chock full of mysteries.

It was then that a dark green container, suspiciously alone in a corner, drew his attention.

He strode over and picked it up, finding it surprisingly light for a box of its size. Shaking gently, there was no sound so he assumed it was empty at first but when he managed to pry the tight lid open, he realized that he had struck the mother load.

Reams of parchment were stuffed inside, handwritten notes messily sprawled across dingy yellow pages. Taking the box with him, he moved over to the opposite corner and sat down on an old stone bench that was there. He removed the topmost pages and settled in for some reading.

He noticed a few demonic symbols emblazoned on the sheets in red ink.

“Hello, what do we have here?” he said aloud, rustling the papers to smooth out some of the wrinkles.

The symbols appeared to be examples of various wards, as the pages went into some detail about demon kind in general, kind of like a CliffsNotes version of a lore book.

Demoniacal Studies by Kultan Sylas

Notes by Landon Merryforth

Journeyman Order I.

January 7, 1979

Demons are evil spirits that some conjecture may be fallen angels who reside in Hell. (I wonder why there are so few mentions of angels in any the lore. It's quite odd, especially if Hell is as populated as we are being told. It’s almost as if they aren’t as common or prevalent as demons are. I must investigate this further.)

Sylas is referring to Hell as the ‘lower plane’ of existence, implying that Heaven is the upper one and that Earth (our universe? Are there more?) is in the middle, sandwiched between two distinct astral planes that some of the other recruits are calling ghost realms. Those sound utterly chilling and not the place one would want to reside in for more than a second, never mind eternity.