Julie (decadentdream) wrote,

The Gathering - Chapter Six

Title: The Gathering
Fandom (is so, include details) or Non Fandom?: Non Fandom (ie. Original bro!)
Chapter Number: Six
Word Count: 2,493 Words
Rating: M (due to language & adult content... not entirely sure where this thing is going)
Summary: In 1692 a group of witches sacrificed their powers to prevent death. Almost 3.5 centuries later, these powers have befallen new generations. Those that would be heroes are lost. It is up to those who are left behind to save themselves & the world they're in.
Author's Notes: I think... I might actually start getting somewhere next chapter :O

Chapter Six

Danny stood on the front lawn, staring up at the double storey Victorian house before him. Lights blazed from the upper-most window but, for the most part, the rest of the house was in darkness. The roofing over the porch sat at an odd angle, the shingles ready to landslide down onto the stairs leading up from the footpath. The house itself appeared to be wearing down with age and looked as if it needed another coat of paint applied to its exterior. The garden, however, contrasted greatly with the house that sat in the middle of it. The lawns were immaculately trimmed, rose bushes with bright red flowers sat along the edges of the stairs leading up to the glass stained double doors. Hedges lined the outer stonework creating the smallest bit of privacy such a miniature barricade would allow. The driveway ran up one side, slim strips of cement giving a gaudy modern appearance to an otherwise beautiful piece of landscaping. For Danny it was unusual to see so much nature in one place; he was more accustomed to brick walls and cement flooring. Just the feel of his shoes sinking into the soft earth was a glorious sensation beneath his feet.

Cautiously he made his way up the front stairs, his eyes locked firmly on the roofing overhead. He wasn’t about to let a series of tiles stop him at the first point of his quest. With relief he found they did not collapse over him and he proceeded to the window by the door, his fingers gently prodding the edges. If the rest of the house was falling down, he suspected the windows might provide him easy access to get inside. No such luck favoured his attempts, making him resort to his secondary plan – the use of the access card. Or, as he quickly discovered upon conjuring it into his hand and placing it against the slit, the use of an unlocked door. It had not been closed properly, preventing the latch from securing completely into place. A simple push against the handle and he was in. He smiled to himself, relishing the ease in which he was able to complete his task. Mercy would be proud. But then… Mercy didn’t know. Although they had gone back to the club looking for Marcus Revelle the trail had gone cold, and while Danny had encouraged Mercy to keep searching he instead decided to pursue the valuable object the boys they had kidnapped earlier had mentioned. Alone. Mercy would not have approved of their rushing straight to the source and stealing an object without knowledge of the people or the area around it, or even of the item itself. Mercy was a stickler for precision. Danny, on the other hand, was completely rash and had no problem running blindly into a situation he knew nothing about. He did not care much for himself, but cared enough about Mercy not to endanger her in such a plight.

He climbed the staircase silently, ever aware to noise and movement around him. From all he could sense the only action that seemed to be taking place anywhere was at the top of the house. The second floor landing was just as empty as the first, though one of the bedroom doors was open, a laptop softly humming from atop the desk within. Danny peered into the darkness, ensuring no-one was hiding within the room, then continued on down the hall. His gaze followed the narrow corridor that wound up to the attic. Apparently all the good stuff was up there. And apparently that’s where the only signs of life were. He took one step, then another. For every stair closer to the attic door he got, the quieter it seemed to become in the room above him. As he reached the door and paused to listen, not a peep could be heard from the other side. Gently he pushed the door open, the creak betraying his presence. Within the room was empty. He was a little surprised, but Danny was not about to pass up such an excellent opportunity to get what he came for. A few books were scattered on the ground, but none of those were what he came for. Nor was he interested in the ones on the shelves. No, the one he had come to claim sat alone on a pedestal; a thick tome with a dust-lined grey jacket silently awaiting use by any witch primed and ready to read from its pages. To its left was a small table with a copper bowl in the centre, surrounded by a number of miniature glass vials containing an array of colours and liquids within them. Both were prominently displayed before the window – obviously to garner the only source of light within the room during the daylight hours. Walking in a direct line, Danny stopped by the top of the book and fingered the edges of the cover. Zealous greed was put aside as a soft thudding echoed across the floor. His sight moved beyond the pedestal as a bright orange child’s ball ceased bouncing and rolled into view. The air around him was still and he knew there was no way a sudden breeze had pushed it into position, nor was there anyone near the object when it moved. He turned, gaze crossing the room until he caught sight of the man lounging on the covered couch, a bottle of beer pressed to his lips as he emptied the remainder of its contents. Hands encompassing the base as he lowered the bottle back to his lap, David looked at the new arrival without any sign of shock or surprise.

“I thought you’d come,” David said.

Having been caught off-guard, Danny didn’t know what else to do but react. His hands lifted hastily and by the time they’d joined a gun had manifested between them, the muzzle directed towards the reclusive man. David reacted with little enthusiasm, simply cocking his head and raising a brow inquisitively as he assessed the assassin.

“I wasn’t expecting such a warm welcome,” he said. He flicked his finger upwards with the slightest of movements and Danny found his hands following, the gun leaving his grip and firing a bullet into the ceiling as his finger slipped from the trigger. Watching it stop mid-air, Danny could only stare in wonder as the weapon folded in on itself, finally exploding with a sound much louder than the last as the mangled piece of metal plummeted to the ground, a rain of gun powder coating the air as it fell around it. David’s hand was higher now, clenched in a fist. It seemed to have cost him no expense of energy to do such a thing with his powers. “You’re not new to this, are you?”

“I’ll have you know, I’m one of the finest,” Danny said, determined to defend himself with words if weapons would not work.

“Good,” David responded, swinging his feet onto the floor and standing, positioning the empty beer bottle on a side table as he approached the Phoenix. “Because if that’s the best you’ve got, I must say it was a rather pitiful attempt.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t fire at you,” Danny threatened.

David shook his head softly, his tongue flicking off the top palette of his mouth as he chastised the man. “You haven’t done your research.”

“Why do you say that?” Danny questioned, his confidence floundering. David’s response was held within an all-knowing smile. Danny took a step back, needing to regain control of the situation. He needed to find out whether the witch before him was determining his next move through predictive powers or simple guesswork. “How did you know I’d be here?”

“Habit,” David replied. “You see the one thing about Underworld creatures like you is that you’re drawn to pain; you focus in on it. And when I’m having a particularly bad day I find, like clockwork, you feel an innate ability to show up and make the moment irrevocably worse. The only problem is you fail to see that for every piece that gets torn apart inside of me, I physically reflect on my newfound company.”

Thrusting his right hand towards the Phoenix, Danny was instinctively quick to react and grabbed the witch by the wrist, twisting and ducking low as he dashed around the man’s body and yanked his arm up behind his back.

“Maybe I forgot to introduce myself,” Danny said, pulling David’s arm tighter as he leant against the witch’s body to whisper in his ear. “I’m not from the Underworld. I’m from an organization that uses them as shooting targets. Fortunately for you, I know what I’m doing.”

“Fortunately for you, I’m left-handed,” David responded. Risking breaking his arm, he spun around and grabbed the assassin by the throat, pushing him back until he slammed into the door of the cupboard. His hands still free, Danny conjured a dagger into his palm and thrust upwards into the abdomen of the man. Air returned to his lungs as the wound brought the desired reaction, David letting go of Danny’s throat only to hurl him to one side using his telekinesis, thereby putting enough distance between himself and the Phoenix so he could not cause any more damage.

Glancing down, David pulled the dagger from his body, blood seeping through his white shirt as he moved towards the fallen Phoenix. David was no stranger to sharp weaponry, his own sixteenth century sword hung on the wall over his bed in the far corner of the attic, sectioned off by a foldout screen his Aunt Carla had brought back from Japan. He had a great interest in the history of ancient weaponry and the sword was the one thing he had inherited from his grandfather.

Danny lifted himself onto his arms as he tried to push himself back up, but with so little time to recover he was not fast enough to avoid David’s wrath. The long-haired witch spun the dagger within his hand, stopping by Danny’s feet and driving it down through his thigh into the floor. Danny screamed with pain as the metal pierced through tendons and muscle. Breathing heavily, David straightened, his hand pressed to his abdomen. Danny’s fingers scraped at the floor, trying to gain a position steady enough to hold himself up as he reached for the handle of the weapon.

“Don’t think you’ll last,” Danny seethed as David stood over him. “You just screwed up. That blade pierced your hepatic artery and would have severed the inferior vena cava. Your heart is going to slow and your legs won’t be able to support you. Pulling it out just signed your death warrant.”

“Then let’s go out with a bang,” David responded. Lifting his hand a piercing yellow light blazed from his palm, as bright and hot as the sun itself. Bathing the Phoenix in its iridescent glow, the assassin’s body began to burn and dissolve into pieces of ash. David did not lower his hand until there was nothing left of the man before him. Leaning once more, he swiped the dagger up from the ground. It flashed and disappeared within his hand. David thought nothing of it. It made sense – the destruction of the intruder’s body would have also eliminated anything he’d conjured with his powers.

As David made his way back to the couch, the ash left behind moved on an unseen wind and swept its own way out of the house.

* * *

“Are you going to talk to him?” Penny asked.

“I can try. I doubt he’ll listen,” Christian said. “Though we should probably go and see what’s wrong before he blows up the entire house.”

Standing, he slipped his hand beneath Penny’s and pulled her up from the couch. Chase scampered off her lap onto the cushion beside her seconds before he would have been thrown to the floor. He circled around until he was facing Penny and Christian again, barking once in protest of having to move.

“Chase, sit,” Justin commanded, holding his hand out and indicating what he wanted the puppy to do. “He doesn’t want you to go, man.”

“Justin, let them go home,” his mother said. “It’s getting late and Michael will be worried. Plus you’ve got to go to work in a few hours.”

Justin waved his hand dismissively. After all that had occurred that night, work was the least of his priorities.

“Excuse my son, he can be just a little careless sometimes,” Alisha apologized.

“In more ways than one,” Christian added with a smirk.

“Hey!” Justin protested, clambering to his feet and joining them in the doorway. “No mocking the sidekick.”

“It was good to see you again, Penny,” Alisha said, embracing the girl. Penny briefly looked startled and unsure before placing her hands against Alisha’s back. Justin’s mother drew back with a broad grin, passing Justin by on her way to Christian. “You keep a good hold on that one.”

Justin stared at her in bewilderment then turned his attention to Penny as he tried to piece together the meaning behind his mother’s words. Potentially she’d had a premonition but he couldn’t be sure. She would never speak of them and only offered cryptic clues when she did. His mother was a firm believer in fate – what is destined to happen will happen, no matter what you do to try to change it. She tried as hard as she could to be normal not magical as magic to her only caused more trouble and pain. And so things that she saw would often go ignored unless someone could assemble the fragments and try to make it better.

“Alisha?” Christian queried, screwing his face up. She was holding on just a little tightly and for a little too long. In her mind she saw David slicing the air with his sword, the image drawing back as he drew his arm back. Just as the sharp implement was thrust forward she saw Michael fall in a bloody heap to the ground. The angle snapped around to reveal the hand now holding the sword was Christian’s. Tall and strong he stood, his eyes darkening as he stared broodily before him. His other hand gripped a shoulder and that shoulder she saw belonged to David. The sword glinted from his midsection, speckled with blood. The scene made no sense other than malice, though it brought enough concern to Alisha for her to draw back and place her hands on Christian’s cheeks, studying his face.

“Don’t let things go too far,” she warned.

Pulling away, she raced quickly up the stairs. Penny, Justin and Christian all watched her disappear with some bafflement, then brushed it aside as they reset their journey back to their initial plan.

“We better go,” Christian said. “I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah,” Justin agreed. “Skate park tomorrow?”


Tags: fic, the gathering

  • The Gathering - Chapter Twenty-One

    Title: The Gathering Fandom (is so, include details) or Non Fandom?: Non Fandom (ie. Original) Chapter Number: Chapter Twenty-One Word Count:…

  • The Gathering - Chapter Twenty

    Title: The Gathering Fandom (is so, include details) or Non Fandom?: Non Fandom (ie. Original) Chapter Number: Chapter Twenty Word Count: 2,312…

  • The Gathering - Chapter Nineteen

    Title: The Gathering Fandom (is so, include details) or Non Fandom?: Non Fandom (ie. Original) Chapter Number: Nineteen Word Count: 4,844 Words…

  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
  • 1 comment