The Conclave Ch. 02

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Welcome back! First of all, some explanation is due. I already published Chapter 2 of The Conclave, sort of, but once it got uploaded and I re-read it, I decided I wasn't altogether happy with the direction the story was going. See, I actually had two potential plot outlines for where this story was going, and, as dictated by Sod's Law, the one I chose ultimately turned out not to be the one I really wanted. In truth, I think I was a little too keen to get to the sex, and the story as a whole suffered (and ended up with some worrying, unintended noncon overtones which, in hindsight, I'm really not fond of).

For those of you who've read the old version, this one starts out very similar but diverges quite significantly in terms of the actual events; I'd be keen to know whether you prefer this new direction or not. It's substantially shorter, and there's also now no sex in this instalment. (It's coming, I promise.)

All characters depicted in this work are at least 18, and intended as completely original creations.

Enjoy!

***

AIKO

When I woke up, my first thought was that I didn't know whose bed I was in. Normally that'd be the sign of a night gone awry, but when the last thing you remember is your best friend naked in your flat with a glowing sigil on her chest, "awry" doesn't really cover it.

The digital clock on the bedside next to me read 7:15, though whether that was morning or evening wasn't clear. Eyes adjusting to the gentle orange light, I sat up slowly, easing out a nasty crick in my neck, and took stock of my surroundings, looking for clues as to where the hell I was.

Whoever's house this was, they had an eye for design. The furnishings were simple but elegant: impeccably clean white walls, smooth floorboards of pale, shiny wood, and a few wall lanterns, turned down low on a dimmer switch, which lent the room its soft orange glow. There was one small window behind me, covered up by a thick Roman blind; I didn't dare open it just yet for fear of blinding myself. There was a side table next to me with a glass of water on it, which, realising my sudden thirst, I downed straight away. I was still thirsty afterwards, but luckily there was a carafe containing more water on the floor. I poured myself another glass, resisting the urge to drink it directly from the jug.

On another side table in the far corner of the room lay a neatly folded pair of what appeared to be pyjama bottoms, and, realising that my clothes had somehow vanished, I threw off the covers and moved to put them on. Just as I was reaching for them, though, the door swung open.

"Don't come in!" I shouted reflexively, remembering how many times my roommates back at uni had walked in on me changing, coming out of the shower, or worse. Whoever it was completely disregarded my plea and came in anyway.

The intruder was a tiny, lithe woman with ivory-white skin and short, messy flame-red hair. She wore pyjama bottoms much like the ones I'd been about to put on, though they trailed on the floor a little at the back -- I suppose it's hard to find a good fit when you're that short. She was topless, small, pert breasts bare to the world, and just above them was the exact same tattoo I'd seen on Tash. Was this some kind of secret society emblem? Pop culture reference? Inside joke? Coincidence? I tried not to dwell on it.

I grabbed the duvet and pulled it to my chest, covering myself as best I could. The newcomer laughed it off. "Nothing I haven't seen before," she said, with a trace of an accent I couldn't quite place.

"Who are you and what the hell am I doing here?"

"Look, when you're ready, put those on and come downstairs," said the redhead. "That should make everything a bit clearer."

That reminded me a bit too much of Tash's claim that "all will be revealed", but before I could lose my temper and demand answers right now, she was out of the door. I sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, burying my head in my hands, and decided I wasn't quite ready to go down and face the music yet.

***

MATT

After a brisk wake-up call and some much-needed water, I was now perched on an ancient, uncomfortable stool, while four people in much more comfortable seats drank tea and occasionally glanced my way. I'd been told to wait "until the other visitor arrived", whoever and wherever they were. Understand that I wasn't just sitting there because I was happy with this situation. It was more that I was confused, scared, not on my home turf, and, perhaps most importantly, there were three of them and only one of me.

I nursed my own tea (black, not enough sugar) and scanned the room again. The stool I was on was part of a circle of seats at the centre of an expansive living room, and my hosts (captors?) were opposite me, on a huge four-person sofa.

I hadn't been entirely surprised to see Saskia there, to be honest. She'd just come back down from seeing the "other visitor", and now she was watching me, smiling enigmatically and seemingly sizing me up. She was naked from the waist up, which struck me as a bit odd, but I was hardly going to complain; even given my nerves, she was transcendent, and her sculpted, angular frame gave me something to focus on while I waited.

Stefan, whose massive shoulder she was resting her head on, had been more of a surprise. He, too, was topless, and I couldn't help but stare a little -- the man was built like a fucking freight train, with huge, broad shoulders and musculature that bordered on unfair. It was almost a shame he was gay, because I was fairly certain every woman I know would have wanted some of that.

There was another woman; the others had referred to her as Natasha. She was tall, curvy and dark-skinned, the sort of woman I'd have referred to as an Amazon beauty if I was feeling clichéd, which I wasn't. Her dark hair was long and wavy; some of it was in her eyes. She looked absolutely shattered, on the verge of falling asleep, and was leaning against Stefan's other shoulder.

And the fourth person, currently engrossed in an old-looking leatherbound tome, well, I couldn't work them out at all. I say "them" because I could not for the life of me work out this person's gender; it was a distinct possibility that they just didn't have one. They looked vaguely Indian, and their hair was done in an incredibly close buzz cut, as if to accent the androgyny. They were the only person in the room who was dressed differently: a long black robe, almost like a dressing gown, over a thin black turtleneck and black jeans, like a cross between Steve Jobs and a Victorian aristocrat on a winter's evening.

Here was the concerning part, though: the three who were topless all bore the same tattoo. I'd noticed Saskia's last night, but I hadn't thought anything of it at the time; here, though, it was unsettling, a bit cult-y for my liking. The same device was stitched into the pocket of the genderless one's robe in electric blue thread.

At long last, I heard footsteps on the stairs, and our last visitor entered. Another woman, slim, East Asian in looks -- my guess was Japanese -- and topless like the others, though, notably, she lacked the tattoo on her chest. She held one arm over her breasts, apparently trying to conceal them. Her hair was shoulder-length, her eyes hazel, and she looked extremely rattled.

"Hey," said Saskia. "Have a seat next to Matt." She sat down cautiously next to me, looking at me as though I might have some answers. I shrugged and shook my head. Explaining what the hell was going on would be up to the other four.

***

AIKO

Tash poured me some tea and, at last, it was time for some fucking answers. The two slumped over the huge guy in the middle sat up and straightened.

"Matt, Aiko, good afternoon," began the redhead. "First of all, I'm sorry we had to bring you here this way. What I'm about to tell you is a closely guarded secret, so we had to ensure you were somewhere safe, and, short of abducting you..."

"Isn't that exactly what you did?" I interjected, anger bubbling to the surface. I'd been keeping it down thus far, but there was no denying that I was pissed.

"All will become clear," said Tash.

"You said that before, before you --"

"Aiko, bear with us."

I sat back, fuming silently, as the woman I didn't know continued. "I suppose we should start with introductions. I'm Saskia. Aiko, this is Stefan" -- she pointed at the huge guy, who cracked a smile -- "and Matt, this is Natasha."

"Tash," muttered Tash.

"And both of you, this is Lex." The person in the robe waved without looking up from their book.

"So who exactly are you all?" Matt asked exactly what I was thinking, with substantially less bile.

"We just told you."

"You know what he means," I snarled.

"We're... hm. I suppose you could call us scientists. Or students. Hard to put a finger on it."

"We're magicians," said Stefan. I thought he was joking at first, but nobody laughed.

"Yes, that's another way of putting it," Saskia continued.

That tore it. "Are you telling me we've been kidnapped by fucking wizards?" I exclaimed, getting to my feet and staring them down with one part astonishment and many, many parts rage.

"I don't believe you," said Matt. How was he staying so calm at a time like this? I wanted to agree with him but I was too apoplectic with fury to get it out.

"Aiko, please sit down."

"No!"

Saskia sighed and glanced over to Lex, who glanced up, raised a hand, and then pulled it sharply downwards.

I sat down, not in obedience, but apparently of my own volition. "I... what the..." I was still inarticulate with anger, but now confusion was taking over. I hadn't wanted to sit down. I'd intended quite the opposite. I was going to demand my clothes and my stuff, and if they didn't I was going to grab Saskia by the scruff of the neck and not let go until she did. So there was no reason for me to sit. What was this Derren Brown bullshit?

"Proof enough?" asked Saskia, with a trace of a grin.

Okay, fine. Maybe they were wizards. Or psychologists. In any event, I clearly wasn't leaving until they decided I could. I folded my arms tighter and stared at the rug. "Go on."

***

MATT

"I'm sure you're going to have a few questions." Saskia remained unreadable.

"Too fucking right, I do," exploded Aiko. I wanted to correct her to "we", but decided that this course of action had much too high a chance of resulting in me getting punched in the face, and stayed quiet. "Why the kidnapping? What's wrong with just sending me a fucking email?"

"Like I said, security. And we had to be sure you'd listen to us."

"You think I'm more likely to listen to you if you get my best friend to abduct me?" She glared at Tash.

"Look, Aiko..." began Stefan.

"Don't you 'Aiko' me, mate."

"We wouldn't have brought you here without a good reason."

"Oh! Well, that's alright then, as long as you've got a good reason..."

At last, I piped up. "Maybe he's right." I had a feeling that this lot weren't going to let us go until we heard them out, and her anger, justified as it was, would only prolong things.

Understandably, Aiko rounded on me. "And you can bloody shut up, too. What, is this some sick fantasy of yours, getting kidnapped by, by fucking sex wizards?"

"No!" (A little.)

"Let. Me. Out." She was staring daggers at each of them in turn.

"Alright, alright," sighed Saskia, wiping her brow. "Ten minutes of your time, no more. Then, if you want to, you can leave."

A long, loaded pause, and then Aiko sat back, still looking like she was trying to flex every muscle in her body at once. I could practically see the steam coming out of her ears. "Alright, get it over with," she snapped.

Tash and Saskia both cleared their throats at once, but it was Stefan who eventually spoke. "I'll be brief. We found you and brought you here because you're latent mages yourselves."

Aiko's eyes widened into furious hazel dinner plates, but I could only laugh. Perhaps it was the mounting preposterousness of the situation, but I laughed for a solid half a minute or so.

"You alright, Matt?" asked Saskia.

I gathered myself momentarily and adopted the broadest, most nebulous regional accent I could muster. "Yer a wizard, Harry!" Back to incoherent cackling. I caught Tash stifling a chuckle as well. Aiko just glared.

"Point is," Stefan continued once I'd finally managed to calm down, "you both have a lot of innate potential, potential that's currently going to waste. With training, you will be able to do what we do - gather mana from sex and channel it into works of magic. We're offering you a chance to develop that power. We can teach you, if you'll work with us."

"So you people are, what, Fuck Wizard Academy?" Exactly what I'd been thinking.

"Think of it more like an apprenticeship."

"You people get paid for this?" I asked.

"In a manner of speaking," grinned Tash.

This was a scam. It had to be. Saskia had probably drugged me, and Aiko had most likely been similarly duped. And even if it were real... come on. Nah. Nah, I wasn't having any of this.

"I'm out."

"Matt, let me ask you to reconsider..." urged Tash.

"I'm out," I repeated.

"Listen, man." Why was Stefan bothering? "Do you enjoy uni?"

"Yes, I bloody love history and I want to finish my degree, then do an MA. Maybe a PhD. I'm not giving it all up for... this bollocks."

"Don't you ever wish there was more to it, though?"

"Um, not really, no." Shut down.

"Matt!" Saskia's voice was laced with desperation. "Is this how you fucking react to learning magic is real? Come on, we have so much to show you!"

"To be honest," I replied, "I'd rather you showed me the door."

Wittiest thing I'd said in ages. Not gonna lie, I'm still proud of it now.

***

AIKO

We were in Waterloo, as it turned out, which was handy for me (Lambeth), not so much for Matt (Stratford). Lex had let Aiko move again without a word, and told us that, for our own safety, we'd wake up tomorrow morning remembering nothing of this; Stefan had grudgingly given us our clothes back and frogmarched us both over to the tube station, where he bid us farewell and gave us each a business card with his phone number "in case you see sense". Not bloody likely.

Matt sighed and stuck his hands in his pockets, seemingly a little hesitant to leave. "Sorry."

"Don't know why you're saying sorry," I replied. "They fucked you over too. Not like you helped or whatever."

"True." He stared vacantly at the departures board again. "I should get going. Essay to write."

"Yeah. See ya," I said, though I knew that was highly unlikely.

He nodded, gave me a half-hearted wave, and started off towards the barriers. I gave him a few seconds so we didn't end up together again, then followed suit myself.

The Bakerloo line was exactly as fun as it always is, which is to say that it wasn't fun at all, but I was only on it for one stop. I covered the five-minute walk home in around three minutes, staggered through the door, stuck the kettle on and sat down heavily on the kitchen floor.

The clock on the wall read 9:30. Great, there went half the weekend.

I made myself a coffee with far too much sugar, threw in a shot of vodka for good measure, and sat down to watch some Twin Peaks, as I'd promised myself last night before my former best friend knocked me out with the power of nudity. I'd had a rough week, and, damn it, I needed some R&R.

Funnily enough, this wasn't yet the worst week I'd ever had. That changed, though, the moment I heard a noise uncannily similar to that of my door being smashed down.

I jumped to my feet and discovered that the source of the noise uncannily similar to that of my door being smashed down was, in fact, my door being smashed down. The perpetrator of said smashing was an odd, gaunt fellow, about nine feet in height, with rubbery grey skin and smouldering purple eyes that cut through the gloom of the unlit hallway. He reached out one bony talon, and almost immediately my brain parsed the input that there was a hideous monster in my house and I screamed and legged it up the stairs to the bathroom, slamming the door shut.

Alright, I decided, I take it back. Matt was wrong, magic isn't fake, it's real and it's taking the fucking piss.

I rammed the laundry basket up against the bathroom door just in time for the intruder to propel one bony arm clean through the woodwork, snatching at empty air and flailing around for me. So this is it, my mind continued. This is how I die. This is what I get for not trusting a bunch of kidnappers with tattoos on their tits. A pretty awful note to end on. The whirling talon made short work of the bathroom door and the monster stepped inside, hunched low to the ground, arm still outstretched.

"Ashraste!" yelled a deep voice with a faint German accent. The creature had just enough time to spin on its heal before a ring of searing blue light blinked into being around its waist, extending further shafts of light inward that punched right through the pallid flesh and held it fast like skewers. It hissed like a leaking gas pipe and lashed out in all directions, but the ring held it fast. It couldn't reach me.

Stefan stepped carefully around it, the tattoo on his chest rippling with blue light. He scratched his chin. "Retriever drone," he muttered. "Big trouble, man. Good thing Tash picked up the signature." He closed his eyes and focused. "Matte!"

The creature's hissing became a low, keening moan as its feet began to dissolve into nothingness, acrid black mist rising from the spot where it had stood. The wave of unmaking travelled up its body until it enveloped the thing's head, which, at last, vanished with a wet pop like exploding hydrogen.

Stefan turned to me, meeting my slack-jawed gaze with a smug, smug grin. If he hadn't just saved my ass, I'd have punched him. "That thing was trying to collect you. Not sure who it was working for, but they wanted your mana reserves. You'd most likely have been kept prisoner for a long, long time, man. Good job I showed up." He smiled. "So tell me, Aiko, are you sure you wouldn't rather come work with us?"

This time I didn't hesitate. "Sign me the fuck up."