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Author's Notes: The following story is very large and contains a number of references to previous works of mine which I advise you read. They should appear at my site or the CSSA.
Hunting Season Parts 1 - 6 (*Essential*)
We Four Girls (B*witched) (Strongly Recommended)
Hit Me Baby One More Time (Strongly Recommended)
Three of a Kind (Strongly Recommended)
Mind Games (Christina Ricci) (Strongly Recommended)
Twisted Gyves(Recommended)
Dark Ryder (Recommended)
What Did You Do Last Summer (Loose reference)
Heavenly Treatment (Loose reference)
Livin on the edge (Loose reference)
If you want any sense of the story then read these first. You have been warned. There's a lot of story too. If you're looking for 99% sex you won't find it. I suppose I should include a violence warning too. Some parts aren't pleasant.
Turning and turning in a widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer
Things fall apart, the centre cannot hold
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.
W.B. Yeats.
Kicking and screaming.
That was how some came into the world. Some never stopped. Some did but didn't want to. Some didn't want to but did. These actions themselves, so deeply ingrained into the human consciousness that they are as natural to a child as breathing, so invariably visible across the globe, transcending time and space, these actions were so well known that they were to be seen in every hospital, in every playground, on every battlefield throughout the world. But there was never enough, never enough kicks or screams to quench the thirst of nature. Every new-born would pick up the cycle just as her parents and their parents before them.
Kicking and screaming.
So common that one would think that after time they would lessen, the kicks seeming softer, the screams more muted. But this was not the way. Each kick. Each scream. Each action of raw defiance was as mighty and pitiful as the last. It was fascinating to consider how strength and weakness fused so well in a scream. Fascinating in a morbid way but fascinating none the less. But even in a life where each scream was as strong and shrill as the next, where every kick had a force behind it a human shell could not compose, even after all this, these screams were different.
She felt them, as if the sound penetrated her body, permeating to her very cells, her very atoms with the raw terror and madness that propelled the screams through the air. Even though she was a doctor, even though she saw madness every day, these struck her to the bone. What she saw when she rounded the corner did nothing to dull the shrill pain. It was a woman. Thin, fairly attractive, well dressed. Kicking and screaming. There were four orderlies trying to hold her. Four strong trained men trying to restrain a petite woman.
They never had a chance.
Dr Catherine Marshall could see that much the moment her eyes focused on the disturbing scene. She knew that the woman could never break free. But his was not logic. This was madness. Utter soul rending madness. She stood. Frozen. Unable to look away from what she saw, this violent madness given physical shape. Only after a time did her rational mind finally register. The doctor took over.She reached into her bag and carefully pulled out a hypodermic needle, measuring out the contents of a small vial with cold efficiency. A simple nod was enough to the orderlies for them to understand her actions.
Carefully Catherine inched forward, waiting for a moment when a limb wasn't flailing through the air. Then she moved like a cobra, plunging the needle through the pale skin and injecting the contents. She hastily withdrew the needle, stepping back fast but not fast enough to avoid a kick to the side of her arm. It was only a glancing blow but it hurt just the same. The doctor took a step back, then another, waiting for the drug to take hold. Gradually she watched the womans fighting fade. She could see in the eyes of the woman that she so desperately wanted to keep fighting but while the spirit was willing the flesh was weak. The doctor shivered at the eyes of the woman, staring straight at her. Not only were they staring, they were seeing. There mad delirious eyes had finally fixed on an object of reality and that object was Dr Catherine Johnson. Then she began to thrash and scream again, albeit weaker. Then weaker. Finally her eyelids slid shut, the last struggling limb going limp. Only then did Catherine consciously realise she'd been holding her breath.
"Doctor Marshall?"
"Yes?" Marshall looked up from the cup of coffee which offered no more answers cold than it had when it was warm.
"I'm Detective Warren. LAPD."
"How.. How can I help you?"
"What do you know about Christine Defoe?"
"Who?"
"I hear she recently arrived here."
"Christine.... oh Madame Crystale."
"That's her working name."
"You don't say?" her humour sounding as lifeless as she felt.
"Has she talked to anyone?"
"No one. The staff can't get a word out of her. Or rather they can.
Just no words they can make sense of."
"How do you mean?"
"She kept rambling scripture or something like that."
"Like from the bible?"
"Yeah. So I hear."
"You haven't talked to her?"
"I'm not a senior doctor around here and anyway... she scares the
hell out of me... Why are you here?"
"She was brought in from a church. Walked into the middle of a service and started screaming and trying to tear the place apart."
"How'd you even get her here?"
"We didn't. Apparently she calmed down and walked here."
"She didn't seem all that calm when I saw her."
"So I hear. Look Doc.. I know she's freaky and all that but there might be something else. She comes from a pretty shady part of town you know."
"Yeah well she is a fortune teller. Not exactly high rise stuff."
"No. But she has no record of either crime or insanity. She's clean as a whistle."
"Until today."
"Yeah. Is she one of these millennium fever types?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"You know. Millennium fever. Apocalyptic insanity. Fear of the end of the world."
"Those happen all the time."
"Yeah but you're getting more of them now."
"How do you know?"
"I read about it somewhere."
"Probably the National Enquirer."
"Hey you said she was ranting bible stuff."
"And you said you thought it might be something else."
"Look. I just want to know what's going on. Talk to her."
"Why me?"
"I don't know. Maybe you'll be different or something. You're allowed to talk to her right?"
"Yeah."
"So do. Please. What can it hurt?"
"Look.. I .... Okay... I'll do it.. Jeez."
She stood up and walked down the hall, dumping her untouched cup of cold coffee in the bin as she did. She wasn't screaming when Catherine walked into the room. In fact she wasn't doing anything. She was simply sitting, staring forward almost catatonic if not for the occasional shuffle.
She looked calm.
It was a calmness that the doctor found almost as cutting as the ear splitting screams.
"Hello Christine." she sat down slowly, taking up one of the chairs around the small table. She cast a quick analytical gaze over the silent woman. She looked about her age, young. Probably not over thirty. Her features, though void of expression were no less beautiful. Pale perhaps but no less attractive. Her long black hair had originally been carefully tied but those had come apart during her struggles. So to had her purple dress become ripped and torn. It was more of a robe really, though modern enough not to stand out on the streets. She looked the part of the fortune teller but no doubt it was part of the job description. People wouldn't believe a fortune teller who wore jeans and a tee-shirt. That was the way fickle humanity worked.
"Hello."
Catherine felt herself jump at the unexpected reply. It was the first reaction anyone had heard from the woman.
"Er... do you prefer Christine or.. Madame Crystale?"
"Christine." She replied flatly, calmly. "What's your name?"
"I'm Doctor .. Catherine Marshall."
"Hello Catherine."
"Christine... Do you know why you're here?"
"Why are any of us here?"
"I mean in this place. In this room."
"I came here. I needed to get away."
"From what?"
"Them. They... It hurts to see them."
"Who? Who are they?"
"Them.. All of them. Everyone out there. I couldn't stand to see them."
Catherine nodded.
"POSSIBLY ACUTE AGORAPHOBIA" she noted on her pad.
"Then why did you fight the orderlies?"
"I panicked. I.. That's what they say happens isn't it? The seven stages....
Denial, Sorrow, Rage, Desperation, Acceptance and.. two others."
"Do.. you think you're dying?"
"No. I'm not dying."
"So what do you mean?"
"I'm going to die."
"But you..."
"I said I'm going to die. Not that I'm dying."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
"You don't?"
"Not entirely. I know the whole but not the pieces. It's like staring at the sun. You can't make it out but you know it's there."
"You're talking about the end of the world?"
"Yes."
The cool ease with which the woman answered the question sent another shiver up the doctors spine.
"But you don't know why?"
"No."
"Do you want to know?"
"No. But you do."
"How do you know that?"
"You're a doctor. You want to know everything."
"Wh... Why are you talking to me?"
"I trust you. I know you. You understand don't you. I saw you. Before
I blacked out. The concern in those eyes. You care."
"The others care."
"No. The others do their jobs."
"Caring is our job."
"Caring can never be a job. I can only be part of what we are."
"I.. If I wanted to know how.. what.. How would I find out?"
The woman reached into her pockets and pulled out a pendant on a chain.
"How did you get that? The orderlies took all your possessions and...." The woman shook her head. One's dearest possessions can never be taken. Only given."
They passed the necklace to Catherines waiting hand. It felt cold to the touch, perhaps because Catherines hands were sweating. She raised it up, looking at the massive blue stone as light shone through its myriad of facets.
"It's beautiful." Catherine said softly.
"It's glass."
"What?"
"Simple glass. Not worth five dollars."
"But you said it was valuable."
"I said it was dear to me. There is a world of difference between dear and dear. This was the first piece of jewellery my mother brought me. The only piece."
"So.. What do you want me to do?"
"Hypnotise me."
"I'm sorry?"
"Hypnotise me. Surely you must have come across hypnotism somewhere in your training."
"Er.. My masters thesis was on practical uses of hypnotism in modern psychology."
"Excellent."
"I only just passed."
"Oh. Why?"
"Because they didn't believe half of what I had to say."
"Even better. It shows you have an open mind. Shall we begin?"
"I.. You're sure?"
The woman nodded, taking a deep breath.
"I.. All right.."
Catherine began to swing the pendant gently back and forth in front of the womans calm features. She watched the clear blue eyes as they swung back and forth, focusing intently on the glass ornament. "Watch the pendant Christine. Just watch. Relax. Listen to the sound of my voice." At first she felt stupid and self conscious with what she was doing but then she remembered her the way she'd felt when the board shot down her ideas. That was enough to reaffirm her faith if anything was.
"Back and forth. Listen to my voice. Hear only the sound of my voice. That's good. Relax. Relax. Listening to my voice. Hear only my voice." Across the table Catherine watched as the womans eyes began to droop. "Listening to my voice." Catherine almost felt like smiling, a smug slap in the face to the academics who had always overlooked her theories. She didn't smile though. She was too wrapped up in her actions. It had been part of her original theory that hypnotism was a double edged blade, the hypnotist having to be absorbed in their action so that minds might meet.
"Your becoming sleepy. Very sleepy. Can you hear me Christine?"
"Yes." the calm voice replied.
"I want you to be in a peaceful place Christine. Nothing can hurt you."
"Nothing."
"Good. Are you peaceful?"
"Yes."
"All right. Christine. What is it that you saw?"
"The future."
Catherine shivered once again but kept going.
"What was it you saw in the future?"
"The end."
"The end of the world?"
"Yes."
"What.. what did you see?"
"The sky.. was dark in the middle of the day. And there was a .. a great shape coming.. closer... and... And no one could see it everyone was just sitting there as if nothing was happening!"
"It's all right Christine. Remember. You're safe. You're safe here."
"Safe." the voice said softly, innocent of the tear running down her face.
"How can we stop this?"
"We can't. No one can stop it. It's going to happen. It .is.."
"Shh. It's all right Christine. Just relax. What do you want me to do?"
"I.... I want you to kiss me."
"W.. What?" Catherine was totally surprised.
"I want you to kiss me." she repeated, not changing her tone. Catherine rolled the idea over in her head. There was nothing wrong with a simple kiss. Besides, there was no one watching in this room. She rose of her chair and leant over, pressing her lips against those of the womans for a second and kissing her. She released the kiss softly and returned to her seat.
"Christine?"
"Yes?"
"Why did you want me to kiss you?"
"Because I've never been kissed. I wanted to know what it felt like before I die."
Catherine felt a knot of sickness churn through her stomach. "Christine. You are not going to die."
"We're all going to die. They are coming for our souls."
"No. You are not. I.." Catherine jumped back as the psychic snapped her eyes open suddenly.
"It's in the cards."
"Christine... I."
"It's in the cards!" the woman shrieked and reached into her pocket.
For a second the doctor thought she might be pulling out a weapon but instead she revealed a deck of tarot cards. Screaming again Christine flung them down onto the table. The pack exploded sending cards all over the room. Only when they had all fluttered to the ground did Catherine look across the table to the patient. She was looking down, as if she read something on the table. Slowly the doctor felt her eyes moving down. There were still some cards on the table, resting where they had fallen. Catherine knew a little about them, her roommate at collage was into all sorts of witchcraft. As Catherine looked over the table she had a terrible sensation in her heart that there was more to the cards than a random pattern.
On one end of the table lay the Queen of Wands and the High Priestess overlapping. Around them was formed a group of other cards: The Lovers; the four of wands; the page and knight of swords overlapping and an inverted queen of cups. Closer to the middle of the table lay another two cards, untouching: The page of wands and the reversed queen of swords. Catherine could only remember rudimentary elements about any of the cards. But the formations alone seemed unnatural. The centre of the table was even more frightening. The Star, sign of an omen, crossed with Judgement. And beside them the Tower and the Devil, both covering the moon and the sun.
"You see." Christine laughed bitterly. "You see how fate has been decided? All the pieces lay out, all the outcomes decided!"
"Christine!" Catherine pleaded, almost feeling as if she was being drawn into the madness. "It's coming!" the psychic screamed aloud. "It's coming an no one can stop it. They'll flock into their precious churches without the faintest idea of what's happening. Darkness and chaos will destroy us all!"
There was nothing the doctor cold bring herself to say in the face of the blind hysteria she was faced with. Part of her mind knew the orderlies would be here soon but the fear was not for herself or for the womans safety but in the fear that she might be right.
"IT'S COMING!" she screamed one last time, the tearing of her lungs rending its sound through the air until the woman fell to the floor in an unmoving heap.
Catherine made no move to help her. She was to caught up in her own emotional shock to consider it. And even if she had there would have been nothing she could do. At least one of the womans prophecies was accurate. Christine Defoe was dead. She gazed across the floor with eyes which has seen too much and now saw nothing. The life blood running from her nose stained the card fallen in front of her: The hermit.
Catherine walked out of the room as the attendants prepared to remove the body. Her world was a blur now, a walking dream. "What did she have to say?" A voice a million miles away asked next to her. Catherine looked down at the fifteen cards she'd taken from the table and the cheap glass pendant clasped in her hand. She felt as if there was no language which could answer the question.
"What did she have to say?" the detective repeated.
Catherine looked up at his face, her face a mask drained of emotion.
"Something is coming detective." she said flatly.
"Something is coming."
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