Preface; For those of you who have never heard of me, which is most likely the lions share of you, My name is Shaman il-de SaintGermain. Pleased to make your aquaintance. I have a little story I hope you will enjoy. I guess before I begin to tell it I'm supposed to say a few things. One is that this story is largly imagined by me. There are some truths held in it, but I have taken certain liberties with even those. For one thing, I do not know the members of the group *Nsync. I have no idea of what they are like in life, nor do have the slightest inkling how they might feel about this story or their portrayal within. I read once a thing someone had written attempting to explain the use of celebrities in fictions such as this. In short, it posed that the celebrities are common ground from which a basis of understanding can be formed. They are familiar to us. We can easily set them in our mind and move on to other details in the story. So be it.
In way of warning, There are homosexual themes present herein. I wouldn't count on there being any sex in this story. I guess that your still not supposed to be reading this if you're under 18 though.
At this point I have to say thanx to my friend Kat for her help. Thanx. Also, if you care to write me, my e-mail address is;
elderknight@hotmail.com I have ICQ as well. My number is 15048366
Now then, on with the show...
"The Price and the Prize"
Journal entry
I don't know if I can really begin to describe my life to an outsider. Well, I guess I can begin. So let's see, My name is Tobias Maxwell. Those in the know call me Lancelot. My friends call me that or Toby. My enemies don't call me. You know, this may not be so hard after all. I'm only doing this for you Jeremiah and with you gone...I guess nobody's really gonna read it anyway. Okay then, here goes nothing. I've got a secret. Actually it's not really a secret. It's just not something that I advertise. You see, I'm a sorcerer. Yep, an honest to gods sorcerer. No, I don't throw fireballs (usually), and no, I don't shoot lightning from my fingertips (cool as that would be). What I do is a lot more subtle. I do cast spells. I do work majik. It's just a quiet majik.
Besides that I'm a pretty normal guy. Okay so maybe that's stretching the term normal a little. I guess to an outsider I appear to be a bit of a loser. I mean, I'm 28 years old. I have a part time job at a bookstore in a mall. I have a little car that still, through some miracle from the gods, gets me where I need to go. I have no real family left, not many friends and no drive to change any of that. The thing is, I don't care what I appear to be from the outside. See, I have a job. Not the bookstore thing. That's just the latest attempt to pay the bills. No, I have a real job, a duty if you will. I'm a problem solver. I solve unusual problems. What sort of unusual Problems you ask? Well, being that we've established that there really are such things as sorcerers in this world, it's not much of a step to see the other things out there. And there are other things out there. There are creatures which lurk in the darkness, things that hunger for power and the taste of souls. There are things that hunt the cities preying upon the innocent, the weak, the forsaken. There are beings in this world that eat at everything which is good and light. They devour all that is held sacred or pure. They are terrible. Then there are the things that aren't even human. Someone has to face these things. Someone has to stop them. That someone is me.
There are others like me of course. Others who face the evil. Some of us work together from time to time. Some of us offer up our lives so that others can continue the fight...Gods! This is getting depressing. Let's move on then. You know, It strikes me that I don't really look much like what most people would think of as a sorcerer. I mean, I stand about 6', 6'1" on a good day. I'm about average build. I have shoulder length red hair, and I do mean red, as in flame. I have Sea-green eyes, sharp side-burns and a goatee. That along with the fair skin gives the impression of Irish or Scotch heritage. May be, I don't really know. I have an eyebrow ring, two rings in my left ear and one in my right, and I have a couple tats which I'll tell you about later. Pretty alternative huh? All in all I dress the way I feel. Some days I'm really stylin' with big shoes, baggy pants and all. Other days I'm like totally GQ. Then there are the days I go medieval. Flowing shirt laced up the front, tight pants, black cuffed boots and maybe even a cloak. In other words, I do my own thing. Watch out world!
So I'm supposed to be keeping this journal thing. Only for you Jeremiah. I wish you were still here...
Chapter 1; In the Beginning...
I lay down my pen and close the book. Rubbing my temples I remember the moment I promised to keep this damn journal. I couldn't save him. There was nothing I could have done and I know that. That doesn't make it any easier. "I still don't understand what good this is supposed to do." I say to the picture on my table. It's a polaroid, a bad one, of me and Jeremiah 3 months ago. "So old man, what's it s'posed to do. Help me figure out my inner most feelings and dreams? I'm a Dragon Sorcerer for gods' sake. That's what I do best!" Then again I do tend to...okay, so that's what it's for.
Looking at the clock on the kitchen wall I see I'll be late for work if I don't leave now so I grab my keys and head out of the apartment. My trusty steed, an '84 Dodge Colt, roars to life and I'm off. I've driven this route to many times to pay attention as I go so my mind wanders back again over the last three weeks. I can still feel the tension in the air as the holidays approached. We should have felt it sooner. If only we'd had a little more warning. If only I'd been more prepared..."This is NOT healthy", I mumble as I turn into the mall parking lot. I know I've got to let go. Jeremiah didn't die for nothing. Hells, the city of Norfolk is still here because of the sacrifice he made. I can't let myself fall apart now. There's to much clean up left to do. "Tonight," I say with conviction,"Tonight I'll get the last of you!"
Work can be so fucking slow sometimes. "Look," I whisper to Christie, my cohort on this dreary spring day,"I say we run the customers out of here, close up shop and book."
"No can do Tattoo," She whispers back as she makes change for a pretty little old lady in a pretty little pink suit and pretty little matching pumps, Yikes! "Besides," She continues with a smile,"Someone needs to finish checking in yesterdays order which he decided to put off till today."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm on it." I reply in defeat as I turn to go. Gods, that woman does have a fantastic smile. It makes me have to remind myself that I'm gay. Not that that's even evident considering I haven't had a relationship with anyone other than myself for over a year now. I really don't need to be thinking about this right now. I'm depressed enough as it is. Anyway, work calls.
Six hours later my shift is up. It's 5 p.m. and I have real work to do. I grab my coat and Knapsack and head out of the shop saying farewell to Christie. I get as far as the entrance to the mall before I'm stopped short by the sense that something isn't right. Scratch that. It's not that something isn't right. It's the certain knowledge that something is Fucked Up! A quick scan of my surrounding tells me three things. I'm being watched. It's one of them. I forgot how hungry I get if I skip lunch. "ShiT" I curse under my breath. I can see him from where I am. He's tall, dark and really cute. He also reeks of decay, even across the thirty yards that separate us. He smiles at me and turns away. I didn't expect this. I didn't think any of them would be strong enough to come after me. Not after Jeremiah...Enough! I need my things and I need them fast. If I can get to my car before he decides to force a confrontation I'll be set. So I move watching my back as I go. My senses are full blast and I can feel the people I pass. The emotions are what I'd expect from a mall crowd. Boredom, contentment, greed, and he's there. There's power in this one. Obviously he wants me to sense him. He knows he's made me nervous. Fuck! He's coming. I look around and can't see him, but I can feel him coming. He's enjoying this! Like it's a game. I can see my car. Just a few more yards. Yes, I'm there! I fumble with my keys and unlock the door. Looking back I see him standing by the doors I just came out of. He's no where near me, but I swear he felt like he was right on my back. I slide into the car and start the engine. Reaching between the seats I grasp my staff and look back at the doors. He's gone. I breath a sigh of relief and let my staff slip back between the bucket seats. Drive. Get home. Get ready.
7:00 p.m. and all is well. At least that's what the people of the Tidewater area of Virginia think. In reality, my reality, that's far from the truth. There are three Demonists left out there and they must be stopped tonight. The one at the mall was new. I didn't catch that at the time, but it's the only thing that makes sense. If he had been here when Jeremiah cast the spell he would be hiding out like the rest of them. He's not hiding, therefore he's new in town. It's too coincidental to be coincidence, him arriving just when they need him most. My tarot cards say he is more then I think, whatever that means. "Am I fucked or what?" I ask out loud as I flip one last card. The Lovers..."Oh Jeez!, just what I need, Sarcastic ass Tarot cards!" Then again...No more time. I gotta get moving. I stand and survey the gear I've pulled up for tonight. My staff, a walking stick really. It's carved, painted and set with stones I've collected through my travels. It's as much a part of me as my left arm. Strong enough to crack a bone. My sword. I love it. It was hand made in the Philippines. The blade has a beautiful Kriss wave and the hilt is good hardwood. There have been nights where the enchantments I set in it have helped me live to see the dawn. My duster. Better than a coat of chainmail. Long enough to hide the sword. Piece by piece I suit for battle. I'm frightened. I always am at this point, but that will fade as I go on. A few odds and ends, just in case and I'm ready to go. First I find the weak ones, then the new guy.
I step out into the night. I know where to go first. Jeremiah and I cased three houses while we were searching for the cult in December. One turned out to be nothing, one turned out to be their main meeting house and the third...That's where they would be, I hope. As I approach I can feel the tell tale signs of majik in the air. Yep, They're here. I look at the two story house in this simple residential neighborhood. One never knows where evil lurks. "Only the Shadow knows" I mumble as I make my way up to the door. There are no lights on inside. In fact the place looks to be abandoned. After a quick inspection I find the backdoor unlocked. I check my wards and reshape my hiding spells and step inside.
Immediately I'm assailed by majik. It's strong, but not strong enough. Raising my staff I encant one of the spells I've prepared. Their majik falters and I push in. I know I have to move fast now. They may not know who or what is here, but they sure know something is. Wait! Sounds from that door. The cellar. As I step up I can feel the spells laced through the door and doorway. "Ouch", I whisper. These are much more intricate than the first. I don't have time to play though. I can hear them chanting from down the stairs. I can't quite make it out but I bet it's not gonna be fun. Pulling a bag from my coat pocket I mutter a few words and scatter the powder within, across the doorway. Lights dance out and strike the weave of the majik the cultists put there. I can see three spells. I can see the threads that bind them together. Bad majik. I draw my sword and call out to Hecate as I slice out and down. The spells hiss at me as they and the door fall and I feel the familiar drain of the majik I've just used. Down the stairs, quickly. I falter as I see the first. They've been busy. I can feel the energy before he points. I turn so that my coat will take the brunt of the attack and it does. I still stumble under the weight of the spell. Power! Forced to lay almost flat against the steps I shake my head to get it clear. That's when I hear the crying. Children!
"Dear Gods. Sacrifices." I whisper in horror. Another unexpected turn. I should have thought. I should have been prepared. My mind flashes back four days to the night I faced them with Jeremiah. It was happening again. I came unprepared. Was this my night to die? Jeremiah wouldn't be here to die for me this time. Anger wells within me. What am I doing! I have to do this! I have to save those children!
"Your gods are nothing to the power of our lord!" Shouts my assailant. All the anger and uncertainty leave me. I honestly can't believe he just said that. It's like a line from a B movie. I shake my head and strike out with my left foot. I stand as he stumbles back.
"Ouch." I say as he clutches his crotch. Up comes my sword and down. He's dead before he hits the ground. I turn to see the other two, one woman, one man. They look surprised. There is a child, a little boy, 7 if he's a day, strapped to a table. There's another lying on the floor beyond it. That one's already dead. "Damn" I hiss as I raise my sword again. I feel him behind me even as I ready to swing. The guy from the mall. All I can do is let instinct guide me as I dodge the strike I know is coming. I drop to my knees and roll to the right. Coming up I see nothing. He's not there. Then I feel it. He's in my head, laughing at me in...my...head. Oh gods! what is he? I can't concentrate. He's got me. I feel my sword drop from my hand as someone grabs my hair. Through the fog of confusion that holds me I see a shiny something slip past my face on it's way to my throat. A Knife! I can't die this way!
"MOMMY!" ?!?...
The child! If I die, he dies. It will...I concentrate...Not!...I focus my will, calm my heart...HAPPEN!!!...a flash of light, a scream. I see the room. I see my kneeling form as if in a dream. I see the two cultist. The woman still has her hand on my head, fingers twined in my hair. My sword shakes as her heart beats it's last and she falls, releasing me and clutching vainly at the blade shoved through her gut.
The voice in my head stops laughing."Take them. They are not worthy." It says with cold, cold truth. And I am released. My vision clears as the last of them turns to run. I can't chase him down. Too weak. If he gets out of the cellar he'll get away. The dagger. Irony is a wicked thing. I pick up the ceremonial dagger the woman dropped as she died and flick it up to a good throwing hold. One shot, that's all I get. I pull back and throw. In slow motion I see the dagger spinning through the air. It's like one of those cheesy TV moments that's supposed to build suspense. And then it hits. He falls. He's not dead, but he's not running anymore. I stand, reclaim my sword and finish him.
By now the child is in total shock. He can't do anything but cry and hold on to me as I carry him up the stairs and out of the house. I walk to the house next door and knock. It's only like 9:00 p.m. so someone should be awake. Sure enough a teenage girl answers the door. Her eyes say it all as she takes in the sight before her. Quickly, before she can panic I reach out with my emotions and calm her. It works and she visibly relaxes though she looks rather confused. She's probably wondering why she's not freaking right now.
"This boy needs medical attention. The police will find everything they need to understand what's going on when they search that house." I say as I lay the child down and point to the abandoned place. My voice can carry a good bit of authority when I work it. She starts to say something, but I turn and walk away. I hear her start shouting for her dad as soon as I hit the sidewalk. I walk to my car and drive off. They'll take care of the kid. I have something else to find.
It's been 15 mins. and I can still feel the presence in my head. It's gone, but it's left a trail, and that's what I'm following. It looks like I'm headed over to Hampton. Great. Traffic looks bad through the tunnel. I forgot that *Nsync had a concert at the Coliseum tonight. Good enough. After 20 mins. I'm through the tunnel and on the city streets. It's a little hard to concentrate and drive at the same time. I think he knows I'm coming. Fine. You know, I just realized that this may be the biggest mistake of my life. Maybe I should just go home and recuperate before I try to face him. No, wait! I've lost the sense of him. He must be blocking after all. Damn! I pull up to a red light and sit, concentrating. He's here somewhere and I'm going to find him. So much for being smart and going home huh?.
Where are you, where are you? Whoa! What the hell is that. From somewhere I have the feeling of pain, confusion. Whoever that is definitely has problems. It's passing me now, coming from that limousine crossing the intersection. It's in there...AND SO IS HE! What the fuck!...Gotta move! Gotta follow it! I'd try to stop it now, but c'mon, it's a limo. Plus there's a car following right behind it with three big guys in it. Security. "Great!" How is it evil gets to be rich and I don't? There's someone else in that limo though, and they're in trouble. Alright, logically I can't just follow it. I'm not exactly a sneak around kinda guy. I'll be seen. Fine then, majik it is.
As the limo continues down the street I reach into the glove compartment and pull out a small feather. A few well chosen pleasantries, a little cajoling and I drop the feather out the window of the car. I feel the acceptance of the air spirit and it's off. I wish I could see them like some people do. That would be so nice. I feel them though, and that's enough. I pull the car into a Seven eleven and go in for a drink. The spirit will follow the limo and tell me where it goes and who's in the car. I specifically gave it the image of the man I saw at the mall and the sense of his spirit. This way if he leaves the limo they'll no I want him most. Fifteen minutes later I'm sitting in the car listening to Liashall on the CD player (Hey, the car's old, but ya' gotta have good music!) when the spirit returns.
"followfollow" it whispers. I start the car and begin to drive. Have I mentioned how hard it is to concentrate your senses and drive at the same time? Anyway, I follow the spirit. As we travel I notice that traffic is picking up some. Then I see the crowd gathered in front of the Marriot hotel. There must be hundreds of people, mostly girls by the look of them, and a lot of them have signs of some sort. Oh yeah! I can make out the signs as I pass. "I love you joey!", "Justin is the best!", "Marry me Lance!"
"*Nsync is here to get this party jumpin' ba-by" I sing and chuckle as I drive through the air spirit.
"Whoa!" Refocusing my senses I feel that it has indeed stopped in front of the hotel I just passed. I quickly pull over and it comes to me.
"theretherehethere" it whispers.
"There!?, are you sure?"
"yesyeshethere" I'm sure, if I could see it it would be looking at me like I was an idiot."hetherenotthereinsidehethereoutsidenotsame"
"Whoa whoa, slow down, please. You mean the man's not there?" I ask
incredulously.
"out...side...not...there...in...side...he...there" it whispers.
"Outside not there, inside he there? Oh shit! You mean the spirit's there but the body's not?"
"yes...yes...same...spi...rit...not...same...bod...y"
"Ho!" A jumper. Oh, now that sucks!,"The new body, what does it look like?" I ask. I receive the picture of a young man; curly, honey coloured hair, clean features, clear blue eyes..."Oh, no, you can't be saying what I think you're saying. You've gotta' be wrong here..." Oops, wrong thing to say. The spirit's pissed and now it's gone. Ah well. it did it's job. So...Justin Timberlake is possesed by an evil spirit. Why me? Why do I get thrown this shit? I'll never be able to get close enough to him to do anything about this. I can't just leave it though. I need to do some research. Home then.
By 12:00 a.m. I've found what I needed in some of my books. Thank you Jeremiah. Some of my books were his. Now they're mine. At least until I can find out who to send them to. Anyway, it seems that we screwed up during our first encounter with the cultists. I know they were trying to raise their Deamon master, but I thought Jeremiah had stopped it from happening. Indications now suggest the he only managed to keep it from fully manifesting. I'm thinking that it got enough of itself through to stay here when the spells and portal collapsed. That would mean it was trapped in incorporeal form and needs bodies to stay here and whole. Now, from what this book says each body can^Òt last for long with the thing inside. Especially so with the power it expended earlier tonight. The deamon eats the soul of the person it possesses slowly and when that's done the body can no longer survive. The body dies and the deamon is forced to move to another or die with it.
"Oh man I need help." I reach for the phone and my address book. Now where's her number...there it, Dr. Barabra Coltraine, Nightfire. I've known Nightfire for a little over 2 years now. She's what I call a "booking agent". See, she knows people and can bring people together. She's also a psychoanalyst and a mystic. Specializes in dreams and dreamwork I guess. I don't do much dreamwork myself. Anyway, I dial the number. It's late but she'll understand.
"Hello." comes the soft voice from Miami. That voice always manages to calm me down. It's no wonder she's a therapist."Oh, Lancelot, What's wrong?" It's unnerving when she does that. Then again, I guess I'm just a little jealous.
"I've got problems." I quickly fill her in on the last two weeks as I haven't spoken with her for awhile.
"So Jeremiah is gone. I dreamt it. At least he went the way he would have wanted to. But the Deamons still here you say?" she more states than asks.
"Yeah, and it's jumping from body to body killing as it goes." I answer."I need help Nightfire. Is there anyone you know?"
"There is someone, but she lives in California and doesn't travel much. If you can catch the thing in one body and get it to her she can fix it." she says with little hope.
"That's not happening Lady. The body it's in at the moment has security and...well, he's famous. I don't even know if I can do anything at this point." I say with a hint of defeat in my voice.
"Who is it?" She asks in interest.
"Well, you know the singing group *Nsync?"
"Yes."
"It's one of them."
"Which one." Is it just me or is the concern in her voice a little more than I'd expect?
"Justin Timberlake..."
From the other end of the line there's a grunt of relief and she says,"This isn't as hopeless as you think. I know one of them. He's a patient of mine."
"Your kidding." I say in wonder.
"No," she says simply."I don't know if he's ready to accept any of this yet, but he may be. I hadn't wanted to push him, but he has some talent. I'll call him and try to get him to call you."
"Yeah, do that...so he's not a majiker then?"
"No. He is...opening to the possibilities. I just hope this isn't to much for him. Actually, he's talented enough that he's very likely felt something wrong already. Do you know how long the thing has been inside Justin?"
"No, no idea. We have to hurry though. My information says that the soul of the possessed usually only lasts a few days, a week at best."
"Alright then," her voice turns doctor like as she finishes,"Get some sleep. You'll need it. If I get through to him you'll have to deal with it tomorrow. If not...I'll call you and we'll decide where to go from there."
"Okay, g'night." I say.
"Good night, Sweet dreams" she replies. I hang up and just sit for a minute. Shaking my head, I get ready for a few short hours sleep....
End Chapter One