Raleigh Oakwood + Dr. Kinnon Blair + Nestor Grimsley
Raleigh had listened in silence as Atticus talked to him. He stared deep into his eyes, vaguely perceiving his inner spirit, his sixth sense dulled in human form. He felt the genuine anguish and guilt, yet he still couldn’t bring himself to forgive the incubus. He had loved her, he still did. The thought of Lena plunged his heart into an abyss.
He remembered the flowers she’d wear in her hair: daisies, snowdrops and peonies. She was blissfully ignorant of the anthousai that consequently nestled in her golden locks, poking out of tresses, giggling with childish mischief. They took a shine to Lena unlike any other human Raleigh had seen; she had a peculiar magnetism for the supernatural, fairy and demonic.
Raleigh was here for Mr. Hoyle, not Atticus. He’d skimmed over that detail in the missive upon his first reading. On the drive down from Dublin, Raleigh had had second thoughts and pulled over into a layby. He retrieved the crumpled letter from his blazer pocket and read it again, rain pinging off the car roof. It was unforgivable he had not properly read the details. His own problems were immaterial. Poor Mr. Hoyle. He had met the gentleman a few times during his tenure at the Bain & Hoyle Company and struck Raleigh as a kindly yet tragic soul. Raleigh could relate. A dull throb resonated inside as he reread.
Mourning is a gluttonous monster. It devours everything you have. Like Mr. Hoyle, Raleigh imagined, immersion in work was the easiest coping mechanism. The Company saved me once again, he reflected. The Amazon business had been a break from a greater exploration that had been on and off for the last half century. It had been a worldwide search, from the arctic tundras to the deepest networks of subterranean caverns. The quest was top secret. Raleigh hid his true intentions by collecting and transferring any specimens of interest on the way. Since Lena, Raleigh had redoubled his efforts to the point of severing any contact for a whole twenty-one years. He returned unsuccessful but the sorrow had numbed. When it reared its ugly hungry head again, Raleigh took the job in the Amazon. Now he had come back from there—the work would never truly be finished—Rayleigh was confronted with his grief again. There was no escaping it.
He studied Atticus’ face. You did this to me, he thought.
Atticus turned, distracted. It was fortunate as Raleigh was finding looking at him harder and hearder to bear. Taking advantage of the disturbance, Raleigh walked towards an unoccupied monolith. Atticus’ final words were lost in the wind, and quite frankly Raleigh didn’t care what he'd said. He rested against the stone, cold and sobering. From his pocket he took out a small white flower, crinkled with wear. Raleigh held it in his open palm, staring at it. The breeze tugged at it and he clenched it tight. He closed his eyes and sighed.
He was aware of more people arriving but took no interest. Raleigh concentrated on the sounds of nature around him, the wind on the gorse bushes, a buzzard shrieking from a tree, the sea washing onto the far shoreline. It calmed his emotions and after a few minutes he opened his eyes. Just as he did so, someone he knew well materialised in the centre of the stone circle. Butt naked. Raleigh laughed aloud, snapped out of his foul mood.
“Dr. Kinn! Long time no see. I see you dressed for the occasion.”
* * * * *
After the shock of being completely naked in front of a group of his peers had worn off, Kinn took it all in his stride. He smiled with good natured humour as a short haired man with a lyrical quality to his words made a joke about what types of fairies Kinn should be making a deal with in future.
His eyes locked on to the man who had called this gathering. Atticus was not a man Kinn had met, he was not even sure he had ever spoken to the Incubus, but there was definately more than enough rumours and interesting documents circulating the company that Kinn knew were more than likely true. He nodded his head in greeting, not wanting to disturb the man.
"Dr Kinn! Long time no see"
Kinn turned at the sound of a familiar voice, one he had not heard in a few months but he recognized nevertheless, Raleigh stood there with a smile of genuine warmth on his face and Kinn had to suppress the urge to give his long time friend a brotherly hug. It would not have been so awkward if he had some clothes.
"Raleigh, you are looking well. I am glad there is someone here I actually know, I was worried that I would be a little out of my depth. As for my lack of clothing, I had a run in with the Aziza's in Africa, they accepted my offering of tobacco but I knew it was not going to be enough to get me passage through their realms, I just wish they had left me with some dignity".
Kinn was indeed happy to see the man who he had known for just over 200 years, the Dryad was one of the only living people to have witnessed Kinn at his best, and his worst.
"Oh before I forget, the last clutch of eggs you sent us back at the Sanctuary have all hatched, you will be pleased to know that you now have several sons and daughters, unfortunately they are all some hybrid basilisk creature that nobody has been able to properly study due to them turning to stone if the little guys look them in the eyes."
Kinn's sense of humour may not have been that great but he knew that Raleigh would appreciate the attempt and the news that the eggs had arrived safely. Their's was a friendship based on a mutual love of all animal and plant life. Raleigh was one of the best of the team at Sanctuary for retrieving rare plant and herb specimens or even more importantly in some cases, retrieving a species thought to be extinct. Kinn and the rest of the team, took care of them as well as something Raleigh held very dear. It was that very item that had allowed the two to meet.
He did not know why but there was a sadness to Raleigh that the Dryad never used to have, at least not one that Kinn had seen before.
* * * * *
A light shone in Raleigh's eyes at the news of the hatching. The clutch had been a nightmare to find in the scorching Sundarbans, Bangladesh. He had searched for days in forty degrees centigrade and above heat through the jungle, conferring with the spirits for sightings and information, following tracks, navigating round leech-infested rivers. The nest was situated in an underground pit, identified by the burn marks around its entrance from the basilisk's venom. The hardest part was calming and negotiating with the mother, a colossal serpent whose eyes it was unwise to stare into. She had offered five eggs and a vial of her venom in exchange for twenty full-grown goats. It left a bad taste in Raleigh's mouth but he agreed.
Raleigh was greatly indebted to Kinnon in more ways than one. Not only was he a brilliant and devoted work colleague and doctor, but a dear friend who had helped him through many tough times. More than anyone else he had ever met, Raleigh trusted the druid and felt secure in knowing he kept his most valuable item safe. He should have really confided in Kinnon the whole story about Lena, but never could bring himself to resurrect the memories in front of a man he truly respected.
"It might be nice to have some statues around the place. It needed a touch of interior design anyway." The sanctuary and research centre was a haven for wild and sometimes magical plants but it lacked decor. The flora was practically growing from the walls and the place stank of damp and exotic herbs. It was a glorified greenhouse.
"What are you feeding the basilisks out of interest? Is there still some crocodile in the storage freezer?" He'd hunted the crocodile whilst in the Burraga Swamp, Australia eight months ago. A very rare and parasitic moss had germinated in the roof of its mouth which frenzied the poor creature, its spores a potent neurotoxin. Raleigh had no choice but to put it out of its misery. He collected as much moss as he could extract, blessed the crocodile for an easy passage into the afterlife and diced the uninfested parts of the carcass for storage.
"Oh, how rude of me; you're stark bloody naked! Put on whatever you fancy from my bag, you'll catch a cold." Raleigh unslung the fake leather satchel from his shoulder and unfastened the buckles for Kinnon's perusal. Inside were some bare essentials: a change of underwear, socks, jumper, tan jeans and toiletries bag. It was a good thing Raleigh had taken it from his car; the rest of his provisions for the job remained in the boot.
As Kinnon thought, Raleigh looked around at the congregation. He'd never seen such a wide variety of supernatural beings in one place before. They all looked like they had a story or two to tell. He recognised the pretty elven girl he believed he'd seen at the London Branch once, the peculiar Professor Nestor Grimsley from a museum gala many years ago, and, oh, Anselm was here. Nodding to his old acquaintance in recognition, he couldn't help wondering why Atticus had invited so many Company agents though, especially some of major repute. What kind of job could possibly warrant such a large team? It was practically unheard of. He shuffled nervously and looked to Atticus, their leader, instantly regretting it. A pang of anger shot through him, mixed with heart-wrenching sorrow. His brow tensed, casting a dark shadow over his eyes. For Mr. Hoyle, he thought.
* * * * *
There was a strange scent in the evening air as I came to a halt just beyond the verge of the gathering; a private enough spot to change, I deemed – though something about the strange 'Death Girl' had disquieted me. Time and again I could not quite help but reach a hand to my face, to feel at flesh and bone that seemed solidly corporeal enough.
“Could it truly be the time now...” I mused softly, casting away the hospital gown with a relieved sigh, reaching beginning to pull on the pants just as I noted something out of the corner of my eye. A scrap of paper. And without warning she was there, leaning down and snatching it up with a mischievous glint in her icy eyes; one leg partially within the pants, the other still out, I gave a grunt and called out:
“Eh, and is that yours to take, I wonder?” She offered no words in reply, only a wink before prancing a few steps toward me. I half walked, half-hopped in an attempt to close the distance between us. She gave a chilling laugh and danced just out of reach, before bowing in overemphasized grandeur and then straightening to her full height, holding the note up between a pair of slender hands and beginning to read:
“Ill gotten gains of death's desire;
thoughts so broken, crushed in the mire...” She seemed as if she might continue, but – in that very moment – the Demonspawn manages to get his errant leg into the pants and, with a sudden leap, go diving toward the unsuspecting demoness. Issuing a shriek, she goes darting to the side before unexpectedly vanishing, leaving the note behind. After having brushed a bit of dirt from his new pants, Nestor bends down and grabs the scrap of parchment, shoves it into a pocket wordlessly without so much as reading a line. Finished with his dress, he turns and allows swift strides to take him back to the assembly; he pauses upon the verge of the clearing – eyes scanning over the gathering, before suddenly locking upon a pair nearby whom he seems to recognize.
“Doctor Blair; Master Oakwood! I had not expected to find the two of you here...” he trails off for a moment, allowing himself to catch up with his words, only speaking again as he comes to a halt nearby.
“A strange coincidence, as it were – though I am ahead of myself... perhaps we have met before, perhaps not – but I recongise the both of you, at least; something leads me to believe it was a chance introduction at the Museum Gala of... where was it? Oh, bother – eighty-three, I think? Eighteen-eighty-three, to be precise. No matter. Two hundred years, four hundred, all the same, eh?” Here Nestor pauses, wets his lips and adds:
“Nestor Grimsley; I think I preferred 'Professor' at the time – it was during a stint with Oxford – but anything will do really. I did have an intriguing bit of... information... I was interested in obtaining an equal's professional opinion upon – in the realm of academia, or Cryptozoology more accurately I suppose. If I'm not intruding on anything, that is.”
* * * * *
Kinn nodded his head at Raleigh's question, the young basilisks were already weaned from fluids and had developed their first set of razor sharp teeth which had no trouble chewing through the tough crocodile meat. Raleigh was hiding something from him however, Kinn would not pry, if the Dryad chose to confide in him then he would do so.
"The statues would be a nice addition, however I do not think the families and friends of those that were turned to stone would appreciate us not trying to restore them back to flesh and blood" He said it with a wry grin as he knew Raleigh would undoubtedly know that they had every intention of restoring the afflicted workers.
When Raleigh mention clothing Kinn was a little relieved, he had already made a spectacle of himself without meaning to so at least he could try and scrap together what was left of his pride. He took the clothes and began dressing just as he heard his and Raleigh's names being called.
As the man, Nestor Grimsley, spoke Kinn was trying to piece together where he had met the strange fellow. Eighteen- eighty three had been a particularly boring year if he recalled it correctly, the only excitment was the Museum openings he had attended, bringing new findings to the populace was always a pleasure, mankind seemed to think they ran the planet, it was a small reminder to show them that they did in fact share it.
"Ah yes, I believe I spilt my drink on you. Sorry about that" Kinn added the last part rather sheepishly.
"If there is anything we can do to assist you with our combined knowledge of all things living then I for one would be delighted to help."
Kinn could have mentally and physically kicked himself, he did not know why he was acting so strangely. If he stopped to think about it, he was nervous. Raleigh was the only one he knew here, trusted here, and he was definately out of his league when it came to the muscles department. He did not know who outranked who, Atticus excluded, so he made a mental note to let Raleigh speak first and then follow his lead. That way he hoped to save himself any further discomfort.
* * * * *
Raleigh listened in amused interest to Nestor's rambling. The man was bananas, refreshing in a world so rife with banality. He remembered their first meeting well, there had been a particularly good exhibit on that day on mammalian dentology and the fiasco with the Doctor's drink cemented Nestor in his memory.
"Why yes, I remember as it if it were yesterday, Professor. It might as well have been. It is good to see you again in good health. How did the research on... sasquatch evidence, was it? turn out?" Cryptozoology was a keen interest of Raleigh's, and it led him onto Nestor's query. "Of course, of course. In fact, we were just talking about a clutch of basilisk eggs we successfully procured which recently hatched. Truly fascinating creatures. What are the specifics of your enquiry, Professor?"
* * * * *
The Demonspawn offers a secretive kind of smile at that, not immediately answering Raleigh's question, instead remarking toward Doctor Kinn:
“Spilt drink? Why yes! And I was especially fond of that vest – there's no saying, another two centuries and it might have been back in style again... as for that research...” Here Nestor ticks his attention back to Raleigh before continuing:
“You are rather close – it was the Yetis, actually, and an attempted link between their earthly form and the possibility of a demonic origin; some had attributed their appearances to coincide with the expulsion of a certain sect of Hellish residents; well, all the little details are irrelevant now – at the end of the day all the evidence -seemed- to point toward supporting the theory, but quite suddenly it all got very hush-hush and funding dried right up.”
Here Nestor pauses, seeming in thought for a moment as he rubs absently at his chin, then adds:
“As for my current enquiry – I'm afraid this is neither the time nor the place to go fully into detail; suffice to say it concerns a creature of unknown history and origin, one who's main trait seems to be the collection and assimilation of disparate personalities: almost, you might say, as though its manner of feeding was to consume not blood or or flesh or souls or anything of the more 'usual' nature – rather, to swallow up personalities whole and make use of them in a kind of collective.”
Silence following the Demonspawn's words is almost instantly filled by the quiet whisper of an invisible presence somewhere between Kinn and Raleigh:
“He's being obtuse for a reason, you know? Let's just say I hope you fellows aren't opposed to games of the most dangerous type; Dear Nestor here – he never asks anyone's for help unless there's a good chance of someone dying...” The words die away into silence, and the speaker – as of yet – doesn't seem intent on showing herself.
* * * * *
The two men, Dryad and Druid, shuddered simultaneously at the sudden drop in temperature. Before either could comment or even begin to address the situation a sharp whistle drew their attention to the centre of the circle.Atticus was addressing the group.
Kinn listened with a look of indifference plastered on his face, inside however he was screaming to tell them how much they were overstepping their bounds. Bringing someone back to life was against nature. Even as he heard that thought he knew too the absurdness of it. Looking around he saw the kind of company he was now in, most of these people were not natural creations, and if his long life had taught him anything, it was that even those beings that were not part of nature's original designs deserved a chance.
He looked at Raleigh to see what the Dryad would choose, Kinn had already decided he would stick with the Dryad.
* * * * *
Raleigh froze as the ethereal voice crept down his spine and stood his hairs on end. The shock was exacerbated by the start of the announcement the gathering had all been waiting for. He listened in stunned silence.
Max? Raleigh did not know this man but the mention of his name seemed to pain some of those around. What is dead is dead and he was unsure of how he felt about this endeavour. Uneasiness settled in his stomach. The ankh was a slippery slope; one should not disturb the dead. Lena…
No. Unlike Max, Lena died naturally. He would meet her again in time, he was sure. It was selfish to pluck one from death so sanctimoniously. She may be happy in the afterlife finally.
Anselm’s reaction was as anticipated. The giant was not a bad man but he could be brash and self-centred. He could rub people up the wrong way, and it was no surprise he had done that now. Henry’s mediation was logical and eloquently put, but Raleigh still had his doubts.
Raleigh stepped forward, the concerns niggling away at him he felt needed to be voiced. “Hello everyone, I am Raleigh Oakwood and I’ve been with the Company for just over two hundred years now. I understand what you are saying about your friend Max, but there are some issues I and I’m sure many of the others feel need clarification. Say we find the ankh and successfully retrieve Max from the realm of the dead, what happens to the ankh thereafter? How do we know there won’t be serious repercussions for the mortal realm in disturbing the dead one? Because of one act which benefits the few, many may suffer. Thank you.”