A Brief Moment of Insanity Ch. 06

"Wow..." was all Bian could say.

I pulled out of Precious and stood there recovering from my blissful ordeal. I slowed my breathing while the gals waved and headed off shopping. Precious leaned against me and pressed her tits against my back.

"Want me to wash your back," she asked.

"If you do, I'm pretty sure we will end up fucking again."

"And this is a bad thing..."

I let her wash my back, my front and anywhere else she wanted. My prediction came true and while I was taking my conference call I was also taking my pleasure from her in the shower. I finally had to send her away because it was getting too intense for me. I was beyond sensory overload after my shower with Precious. I left the estate and started looking for a spot for Bian's gallery. I knew I was going overboard but I had to do something to clear my thoughts.

"Facial recognition is complete," Jeannie replied. "I now know the identity of the man you call the Black Pawn. You should know him too. He's been on the news off and on over the last few years."

Jeannie displayed the news footage and by god there he was. He was that archaeologist guy that went to China and helped out with some sort of minor natural disaster. Though, how any disaster could be called mild is beyond me. So is he my opposite number or just another pawn on the board? I didn't want him as an enemy. Maybe we could work together and step off the board together. I was tired of being manipulated.

"Ooh there's a nice location and it's for rent." I said letting my ADHD kick in. "Let's see if anyone is at home."

I called the number on the realtor sign and talked to the gal at the office. She seemed pleasant enough and would send someone right over. Jeannie pulled up the plans of the building as well as a full workup on its rental history and anything else attached to it. The A.I. let out a whistle and displayed a series of articles regarding the property. Six murders, three suicides and apparent paranormal activity were just the tip of the iceberg. The property had a bad rep since there was a town here.

"You're not thinking about moving in there are you?" A voice called out and I looked over my shoulder.

"I was thinking about renting it for a friend of mine," I said to the old man sitting on the stoop next door.

He was tipping back a bottle of something hidden in a brown paper bag. Did people still do that anymore? The man appeared to be in his sixties but I suspected the alcohol had aged him prematurely. His skin was dark and weathered by not just the sun but a very rough life. His clothing was tattered but cunningly mended by a gifted seamstress. His shoes had suffered the worst and appeared no mending in the world could manage that.

"I could buy you a new pair of shoes," I offered. "If you share what you know about this building."

The man lifted his right foot and glanced at the perforated sole that had cardboard inside to keep the drafts out. He made a face and nodded. As I walked the man down the street told me his story. His story was the story of the building. His name was Max. He had been born in what he called that god forsaken place. His parents owned the building. They had gotten it from a relative that had perished in a house fire. The place had been pretty normal at first. That was until his mom got pregnant and that seemed to wake up whatever had been sleeping there.

He paused as we entered the shoe store and he picked out the brightest white sneakers they had in his size. The salesperson looked at me and I nodded. It took her three tries to find the perfect pair but I felt it was worth the investment. Max hopped up and down in them once he had them laced up and tied. That brought back a memory for me when I was a kid and getting new tennis shoes. I always felt lighter, faster and uncatchable. I smiled and Max had tears in his eyes when we walked out of the store. He kept the old pair and if he sold the new ones that was up to him.

He continued his story as we walked back towards the apartment building. He said that there were queer noises in the basement and strange shadows the entire time he grew up. It got so bad his parents sold the building and they moved away. They heard about the murders and the suicides but they had done what they could for their family. Max sat down in his spot and just then the realtor showed up. The bright blue Pontiac parked in front of the building and a tall brunette got out and put on her best game face. I couldn't help but smile.

"Louise Fisher," she said offering me her hand. I shook it and she produced a key to unlock the front door. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long Mr. Harrower."

"Nah, I had Max to keep me company." I told her and the color drained from her face. "He's a nice guy underneath the shabbiness."

"That's not it Mr. Harrower, Max has been dead for over twenty years now."

I spun around and sitting there on the stoop were two brand new sneakers. They were still laced up and tied with two neat bows. I smiled and walked over to the steps. I reached out for the shoes when one of the bricks shifted beneath me. Curious, I bent down and lifted up the loose stone. There was something wrapped in a rotted rag. I stood up and turned to face the shaken realtor. I unwrapped the object and there gleaming in my grasp was a silver drinking flask. It was elegantly carved with the initials MM. The flask was untarnished after all these years, how strange. Of course it was no stranger than Max's ghost sharing his story with me. I placed the flask in my back pocket and gestured for Louise to continue on.

She unlocked the apartment and we stepped inside. It was what they call it in the real estate business, a fixer upper. The woodwork appeared sound enough but the paint and plaster was a disaster. It did have potential. It was turn of the last century and built during the 1904 World's Fair. There were hints of multiple cultures throughout the building. We did have some trouble unlocking the back door but in the end my shoulder won out over tricky lock. The backyard was overgrown but huge. The grass hadn't been cut this year I suspected. The far end of the backyard was bordered in a six foot brick wall. The center of the wall was broken up with wrought iron gates and an arched running above it. The peak of the arch was decorated with the Green Man on one side and a stylized design on the other.

"What does that look like to you?" I asked the realtor.

"That is the Green Man," she said automatically.

"No, on this side, the side that faces the alley, what does that look like to you?"

"I never really noticed that to be honest." She said as she got up on her toes and squinted. "I suppose it looks like a sort of hedge maze or something. Is that important?"

"I'll buy it," I said.

"The owner is only renting it," she said. "But I think I could convince her to sell."

"Call her and we'll negotiate," I said.

"No need," Louise replied smiling. "She lives across the street. But I must warn you she is a bit eccentric. She is what you would call the old cat lady."

Louise closed the Iron Gate behind us and we walked around the building so I could see it from the alley. The owner lived opposite the apartment building. Her house was in immaculate condition. The three story Georgian stood out from the more modern homes that had sprung up around it. There was of course the pride of domestic cats that made the front yard their home. I counted twelve as we walked up but suspected more. The front door was a thick oak door and the brass knocker bore the likeness of Bast, the Egyptian goddess of cats. Louise knocked with her knuckles telling me the image of the goddess was for adoration not announcements.

The door opened and a slender elderly woman stood there. Her silver hair hung long and free. It contrasted the black dress she wore and despite her years she was still quite attractive. I took note of the fierce blue eyes that regarded us as she asked us to enter. Louise and I entered the house of the cat lady and I began to agree with the realtor. This gal had cats on the brain. Every kind of statue, plaque or carving of cats that existed was present and prominent. The rest of the hoard were inside and either sleeping, cleaning themselves or watching us intently.

"My friends like you," the woman said. "Have some tea, I grow it myself."

"That would lovely," I replied and she smiled.

"You have fine manners young man," she said and led us to her living room. "Please have a seat and I will return shortly with that tea."

I sat in a comfy looking high backed chair while the realtor took a spot on the couch. There were a dozen or more felines in the room and they were each of a different breed. One silver and white Siamese stared at me from the floor. It cocked its head to one side as if taking in my measure.

"I am a friend of Sutekh," I said and the cat leapt into my lap and parked itself there purring like a fiend.

"Who is S..." Louise began but was cut off when the lady returned with a silver tea service.

"Mr. Tinkledon what are you doing in that young man's lap," she asked as she set the tray down. The cat let out a series of yowls and meows in response. "You don't say that is a bold claim."

She poured our tea and fixed it according to our liking without ever asking. I thanked her for the tea and sipped it without saying another word. As we sat there in silence a large black tom entered from the rear of the house and rubbed against the woman's ankle. He too, after a moment or two, launched into what could be construed as cat speech. The old woman nodded and then looked at Louise with what appeared to be suspicion. She took another sip of tea before she turned to stare me down. I locked eyes with her and smiled. The whisper of mental contact was brief and went almost undetected. The psychic tendril brushed my consciousness and I replied with a polite but firm slap. The cat lady giggled and smiled.

"Bartholomew tells me you want to buy the building across the street Mr. Harrower," she said after a short pause. "I like you. What he doesn't tell me is why you want it."

"I want to restore it. Then I plan on turning it into a kind of art gallery and studio for a friend of mine."

"You are very generous. It won't be cheap fixing it up." She replied and paused again. "I will send an opening proposal to Louise. I don't expect you to accept my initial offer. I expect a bit of negotiating for a place with so much history."

"Max didn't seem to like the place. I want to find out why." I said and that had the old girl leaning forward in her seat nearly spilling her tea.

"You saw Max?"

"I bought him a pair of shoes. You can still see them on the steps if someone hasn't stolen them that is."

"Bullshit," she snapped. "I call bullshit. Max doesn't talk to anyone anymore!"

I reached into my back pocket and produced the flask. The old lady cursed and then smiled as if I had missed out on some private joke. She agreed to a fair asking price on the property if I promised to let her cats have free run of the back yard. I nodded and the deal was struck. The lady dismissed Louise so that she could have one last private word with me. Louise just smiled and left the room. The lady leaned forward and whispered in a conspirator sort of fashion.

"You said you knew Sutekh," she said. "Where the hell did you even learn that name?"

"From her," I said as I got to my feet. "Though, she does prefer the name Loki around me."

"Oh, I know you now Red Pawn," she smiled and clapped her hands together.

"Last time I checked I was White." I admitted.

"Pish posh... pieces get swapped all the time. Though, if you were smart you'd stay clear of that pawn of Black's. He is a right piece of work."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked.

"You two are about equally matched for now. I think Red is trying to keep you and him on equal footing as it were. But who am I to judge. I just maintain parts of the board, best of luck and all."

I walked out and found Louise standing on the sidewalk. She glared at the cats and shivered. I think the old lady scared her a little. Truth is she scared me too. I closed the front door behind me. I walked up to the realtor and we exchanged numbers. Once the paperwork was ready I would get a crew together and get to work. I was eager to see how this property would work out. I walked back to my car and saw that the tennis shoes were unmolested. I guess I wasn't the only one to be scared in this neighborhood.

Red Pawn Takes Silver King:

I meant to walk back to the car, I really did. So why did my feet walk me back to that house? Before I was aware of it I was standing beneath the stone arch. I looked at the image of the hedge maze and felt the surge of energy behind me. I turned and there was Max. There he was living and breathing all proper like. He was dressed differently and was sporting an acoustic guitar. It was a wicked looking instrument with a night sky design on the body, a solar flare running along the neck and what appeared to be Hebrew letters on the frets. Max was sporting dark jeans, white sneakers and a pristine white button up shirt topped by a black leather jacket with fringe.

"You look good Max, real good," I told him and he smiled. "Where the fuck am I?"

"Back in the Maze Warren, where you belong," he replied as turned to leave. "Follow me. I have another story to share with you my friend."

"Story... whose story..." I asked as I followed him into the heart of the Maze.

"Why your story," he said and another brilliant smile graced her lined face. "You have so many questions and I am here to explain."

"Well, that's all you needed to say."

We strode through the twisting turning alleys that bordered the Maze proper. The strange thing about the alleys is that they were all alleys from all times in the history of the Earth. Some were quite familiar while others reminded me of some ancient city long dead and buried beneath the sands. Still others were technological wonders that were gleaming strips of shimmering metamaterial. Then there were the towering anchors that held, supported and maintained the very fabric of the Maze, as I understood it at least. Honestly, I had no fucking clue.

Max strummed his guitar and sweet blues riffs drifted from the strings as he told me my story. The part that I played in the grand scheme of things as it had been passed onto him. I could never pry who told him these things but he told me the stories felt true. We found a spot in the open market where a comfy chair waited for him. He sat down and I sat across from him as he collected his thoughts. The crowd settled down and fell silent as Max began to speak.

"Stories come down to us from the past. Whether they are true or not doesn't really matter. They are there to teach, to entertain and maybe even make us cry. This story is a very old one and the entirety of it is not known. The Earth is old by our reckoning but it hardly the oldest world and surely not the greatest that hangs in the heavens. But it is ours and that makes it special.

The beginning of my tale goes back many thousands of years. The old gods walked invisible upon the face of the land, swam beneath the waves and soared high in the heavens. They did this since there was no thinking life besides them. So with the help of the First Ones that came from beyond, the gods fashioned life in their own image. So attractive were they that the gods had offspring with them. These people were called the Althan. They appear much like the humans that crowd the world today but with many subtle differences.

The Althan grew wise and strong and laid their thought upon the world. Where they dwelt the dragon lines surged with power and they commanded great energies. Over time two new races arose from the progeny of the Althan. One took after their physical continence while the other their spiritual. They became known later as the Atlanteans and the Nephilim. The Atlanteans were cunning and always sought out new mysteries to unravel. The Nephilim hungered only for the power and perfection of the moment.

The Althan withdrew from the world and let their children do as they would. The Atlanteans built many great cities but called only one place home, the Isle. The Nephilim grew ever more base over time and became like animals in the wilderness. When mortal man awoke they became the favorite prey animal of the Nephilim. This angered the Atlanteans and they offered protection to the first of man. A rift sprung up between the Children of the Althan. The rift broke out into all-out war. The Atlanteans were no match for the sheer numbers of the Nephilim. To save man they sacrificed everything and wrought the Great Flood and drowned most of the Nephilim as well as their own people.

It is believed at this time that the Althan perished with the Nephilim. The Isle survived the flood but its master in an act of madness saved the last of Nephilim and sired children with her. This new race was calmer, cunning and carried the wisdom of both the Nephilim of Old as well as the Atlanteans. The Twelve aided young man and built for him cities and taught them the artifices they would need to survive. They took to their beds the most attractive of men and women and a new breed of humanity was born, the Family. They were the offspring of Nephilim and humans and would serve as the kings of all nations.

To this very day the unbroken bloodline exists. What is only recently been revealed is that among the Family the Althan blood has reemerged. What has slept for uncounted millennia is awoken once more. The Lords of Essence are reborn!"

Max set down his guitar and looked at me smiling. He got up and I followed. We went into one of the taverns on the main road. He ordered two pints and paid for our drinks. The background noise would help conceal our conversation.

"So now you know," he said smiling.

"That is why Lo... she picked me. She somehow figured out that I had the potential to become something more." I replied and he nodded.

"I am supposed to give you this now. I got it from the Librarian. He takes care of the sacred texts."

"What is it?" I asked taking the blue crystalline cube.

"From the way he danced around it when I asked. I believe it is an Althan spell book."

"This stinks of more manipulation," I growled.

"Of course it is," he said laughing. "You are the Red Pawn. If you don't learn this stuff the Pawn of Black is going to wipe the floor with you."

I stared down at the cube and cursed. I looked at Max and I nodded. He was right of course; eventually this archaeologist is going to come calling. If I was unprepared it would end in misery. I felt like a rat in a maze, literally. In my hand was the piece of cheese for a job well done. Now what the hell did it do and what was it for? As if to answer my question the cube melted in my grasp forming a tiny pool of liquid in the palm of my hand.

"Am I supposed to drink you? Am I Alice and the Maze is Wonderland? Oh what the hell, what have I got to lose?" I said a brought my hand to my mouth.

I never had the chance to swallow the liquid. The moment it touched my tongue it stopped. The liquid had a mind of its own and as I learned very quickly an agenda. The blue liquid acted more like a gel now and pressed itself against the roof of my mouth. Instant ice cream headache, I cried out as I felt the liquid pass from my mouth to my sinus cavity to my brain. The bone numbing cold a clear marker of its progress and when it hit my brain it dropped me like a rock. I grabbed my head and screamed. A moment later I was somewhere else. I stood on the overlook of a cliff and floating in the ocean beyond a gleaming city of spiral glass and shimmering metal. The towers of the city reached skyward and caught the sunlight and reflected it like a thousand mirrors.