Arthur woke with a start.

  The wooden shutter on his window had slipped the aging latch again causing an awful bang that overtook the noise of the thunder and lightning roiling outside.

  ‘Bloody thing’ he growled quietly to himself ‘Thought I’d heard the last of you’

  He slid off his blanket and with a huff, swung his legs out of the bed, searched around the cold wooden floor with his feet. After sliding his feet along the cold wooden boards for a moment he finally found his slippers, sliding into them when his big toe popped out the end of his worn-out footwear like a unwanted mole in a vegetable garden. Looking down he gave another disgruntled huff cupping his face with his meaty hands and set about to rubbing his eyes. As he allowed his vision to clear he reached over towards his nightstand, touching his hand up to a crystal on the nightstand. A dull light began to fill the room the light intensifying and with a panic, he swivelled himself back between the light and the bed, the rustling of sheets causing him to hold his breath. He brought his hand back to the light bringing the amount of light down to a dull illumination lighting the bedroom packed with wooden furniture showing years of wear and in need of repair, a collection of items that can only be achieved by 30 years of marriage, outliving all your relatives and being frugal to a degree that borders on some sort of mental disorder.

  It wasn’t a large room by any measure although if you had to you could swing a cat however a medium sized dog would be a stretch. Luckily Arthur didn’t own any pets. He skirted past his wives vanity table with care as to not disturb the many bottles, ointments, creams, tonics and salves, it was a wonder the legs had given out already.

  Making his way across the floor treading with practiced accuracy missing the creaky boards with a causality that comes from the years of trial and error only the husband of a light sleeping wife could garner.

  ‘What’s going on Arthur?’ Asked his wife Millie.

  ‘Nothing love, I’m just closing the shutter, go back to sleep’ he replied.

  ‘I thought you fixed it?’ said Millie sleepily

  Arthur froze, taking a deep breath and released as he rolled his eyes. ‘I’ll take care of it love and I’ll have a proper look in the morning’.

  Arthur resumed his journey across the squeaky minefield, once at his destination he opened and closed the window and shutter a few times trying to get the latch to fit into the eyelet.

  ‘Oh Arthur you aren’t half making a racket, can’t you just shut it and fix it later? ‘Millie cried out exasperated.

  Arthur turned to respond just as another gust caught the wooden shutter and it hurled itself forward with a force comparable to a frigate going full sail, straight onto his thumb.

  ‘Blast the bloody thing’ He yelled putting his thumb into his mouth.

  As he turned back to the window with a look of rage his eyebrows raised as a flash of lightning lit up the street below where he caught the faintest blur jump between the shadows of the doorways across the way.

  Arthur peered for a while to see if he could make out the strange figure again, leaning out of the window to the point the rain started to trickle through his thinning hair and down his sullen face.

  Squinting to try to adjust his eyes to the gloom looking side to side, he then thought better of it.

  Two equally unpalatable options sprung to mind as to who would be skulking in the middle of the night. If it was a wizard, he didn’t want to be involved with the kind that skulk about on a night like this necromancers, warlocks or other dark magician or an alternative was an assassin, even more reason to pay no attention. He had no interest being a witness and there for a loose end. No, he much preferred innocent bystander, passerby or face in the crowd better yet., a nobody. Like many men of his age as he stood staring at nothing his mind wondered for a moment into a fantasy. What his life would be like as an all-powerful wizard wielding fireballs, harnessing the very power of the elements to his every whim and desire raining down destruction on all who dare oppose him.

  An assassin stalking his mark from the shadows, stalking, hunting, running along rooftops moving like a leaf on the wind, hiding in the shadows above the rafters waiting for the opportune moment when their back was turned to make his move and…

  ‘What’s going on?’ said Millie putting her hand on his shoulder.

  ‘To the abyss with you woman’ Arthur shouted with a start ‘are you trying to kill me?’

  Millie stifled a chortle and covered her mouth.

  ‘Back to bed with you’ and with that he slammed the shutter driving down the latch and wedging in a scrap of cloth to secure it.

  His hood still dripping from the deluge the shadow character listened to the older couple return to bed with a mixture of laughter and grumbling, as the light from the window dimmed down to pitch blackness, he sheathed his dagger which was a dull dark material that reflected no light and dropped from his perch among the rafters above the strangers window back down to the street. He landed silently then moved along the street, not at a run, running drew too much attention, more of a fast walk every movement flowing effortlessly like a spectre gliding through the world under cover of dark. A few minutes later he arrived at an unremarkable door, reaching out from a sodden cloak a thin sinewy arm raised and knocked, then again, then twice more. A hatch slid open revealing a pair of eyes, very narrow accompanied by big bushy eyebrows that looked as though two caterpillars were racing across his forehead.

  ‘What?’ demanded the man in a voice that when heard gave pictures of a shaven gorilla.

  ‘The moon is sanguine tonight,’ said the shadowy figure whose voice wasn’t necessarily the opposite of the other mans, just that the man behind the door seemed to speak from the back of his throat whereas the robed figure spoke from somewhere in his nasal passage.

  ‘Nope’ came from the door and the latch slid shut

  The man repeated the knock, and the hatch flew open again.

  ‘What?’ repeated the gorilla man

  ‘I said the moon is sanguine tonight’ the shadowy man reiterated

  The man’s eyes gazed skyward ‘Looks more of a classic soft yellow with flecks of dull grey’ the voice said dreamily.

  ‘Are you quite sure it’s not sanguine? Ahem, Brother?’

  ‘Na it was sanguine last week, it’s changed now’ answered the voice.

  The shadowy figure pulled back his hood revealing a relatively young man clean shaven with medium length hair, although his fringe was so impossibly straight you could’ve used it to make sure your shelves were level. ‘It’s me Brother Reaper’ he said is a conspiratorial tone.

  ‘Damon? why didn’t you say?’

  ‘Shh it’s not Damon, its Brother Reaper’ said Damon

  ‘I didn’t know Damon had a twin brother called Reaper? Seems rather silly to call one Damon and one Reaper.’ He pondered out loud.

  ‘Look here Terrance, let me in, I’m in a hurry’

  ‘Adjunct Brother Gatekeeper’ Said the voice

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re to address me by Adjunct Brother Gatekeeper so people don’t know I’m Terrance’

  ‘Well the very fact that I know you are Terrance tells you, that I am in fact supposed to be let in doesn’t it?’ Fumed Damon

  Terrance pondered a moment or two and his braincells moved at the speed of an elderly snail scaling a vertical wall during a particularly horrendous storm.

  ‘Ok, I suppose so, but if the others ask you gave me the right password’ said Terrance

  The door swung open with a loud drawn out groan.

  ‘Dear gods, we’re a secret society Terrance, get some oil on that door will you’ Damon spat whilst shaking off the rain that hadn’t soaked through his cloak.

  ‘I dunno, I kinda like it, its ominous, sets a tone I think. If your gunna have a secret club house you need a good squeaky door, I’ve worked on this one all week to get the pitch right’ said Terrance proudly ‘Sets the atmosphere you know’

  ‘Fine, fine whatever’ Damon said hurriedly ‘Is everyone else inside already?’

  ‘Must be, Frank errr Brother Gatekeeper told me to take his place while they were busy with summat’ Terrance replied.

  Damon slowly rubbed his temples, he could feel one of his migraines coming on, this happened time to time when he was dealing with what he referred to as the educationally challenged. He made a mental note to have words with the leadership about this dim-witted lout, never mind if it was his own cousin. Sometimes a healthy family tree needs pruning, which might as well be written under his families crest, ‘sana familia arbor putationis opus est‘.

  Just before he left the foyer he turned and said ‘What is the new password anyway?’

  ‘I dunno they didn’t tell me’ said Terrance shrugging his shoulders ‘I arrived with Brother Gatekeeper’.

  Mentally he shuddered, that chat with the elder just got moved up his to do list.

  Reaper strode along the hallway, landscapes and portraits lining the walls, none of which garnered his attention, if he wanted to look at paintings his palette would be better satisfied by his family’s gallery in the east wing. The hallway led to a large wooden door, he took a quick inhale, pulled his hood back up over his head and pushed it open, it slid silently. Thankfully that buffoon hadn’t gotten to this one yet he thought to himself.

  Eight robed figures turned their heads, hoods rotating in unison to face him.

  The room was a large open space owing to the chairs and tables pushed to the side, crystals floating in the air, rotating in a circle above the heads of his peers.

  At one end of the room a stage was adorned with candles a lectern carved from a dark polished wood a serpent engraved meticulously into its front stood proudly centre. The cowl of the figure behind it cut a menacing silhouette, a grey whiting beard protruded from the shadow of the hood.

  Before the stage a large area had been cleared, his brothers were scrawling cores in a large circle with chalk. The smell of burning incense and melting wax filled his nostrils, The man behind upon the stage nodded and he deftly made his was forward through the group careful to avoid the markings on the floor.

  ‘Brother, have thou managed to procure the tome, that our ritual may at last take place’ Said the man in a voice that while not a shout, travelled throughout the room in a wave.

  ‘Indeed Elder, It was difficult but I was able to acquire the book you so requested’ Reaper stated boldly while reaching under his cloak withdrawing a book that hitherto made no visible bulge under his cloak.

  He reverently brought the book up to the front of the room all eyes glues to the sacred grimoire held steadfast between his hands.

  The book was carefully lain down upon the pedestal and Reaper bowed his head and joined the others on the lower level.

  The Elder looked down upon the book and ran his hand over the tanned leather and gold filigree embossed on the cover. He slid his hand to the side and slowly opened the book, an eerie glow emanated from the pages, the magic contained pulsing to be released from its prison of paper, the pages flipped over as if caught in a windless gust and stopped all of a sudden.

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  He reached one hand into the sleeve of the other arm and produced a shaft of wood two feet in length then reached into the other sleeve and withdraw a pair of glasses with no arms, bringing it up where it disappeared into the void of his robe. He hungrily cast his eyes upon the age stained pages.

  ‘That’s a funny looking wand’ A brother whispered

  ‘Shhhh’ came from the cloak next to him

  ‘I’m just saying, whats that on the end of it?’ he whispered

  ‘Shhhh’

  ‘It’s a hand?’

  ‘Shhhh…, Wait what?’ the brother looked up and sure enough there the Elder held aloft a length of wood with a small hand on the end extending its index finger.

  ‘Must be a powerful artifact indeed’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Well if I had to wave something around that looked like that it’d better be worth the ridicule’

  ‘SHHHH’ said a third brother ‘I’m trying to get this right down here and I can’t concentrate with you two whispering like that I don’t need a distraction, these are very precise and I’m not going to be held accountable when the Elder..., Is that a backscratcher?’

  The elders hood flew up his eyes gazing down across his brethren, even hooded you could feel his eyebrows furrow and his glare daring anyone to meet it. At that moment all of the brothers found themselves inexplicably busy, reviewing the ritual circle if not the beams or the floor itself.

  ‘Are we quite ready, brothers?’ the Elder bellowed

  ‘Yes Elder’ they droned

  A black pot was heaved to the centre of the space and the brothers quickly evacuated the circle.

  The elder held his tool aloft and brought it down upon the pages of the book and murmured as he slid it along the words using it to keep his place.

  The elder held up his free hand, and began to recite the words from the book, unintelligible words with rather a lot of vowels. The mana flowed from the book into the air above them, the crystals brightening as it flowed around them. His voice echoing and reverberating until it was like a one-man choir. Flowing above them the mana was becoming so constricted that the air itself seemed to both crack and fold in on itself, until it flowed like honey down into the pot in the centre of the room

  As the chant continued the circle glowed and a purple/green mist overflowed the pot but did not reach the floor, the air grew thicker still as the ambient magic was drawn in from all around, it felt like being submerged in a pool of treacle. The elder walked down off the stage still chanting and with a flourish produced a gem so black it did not reflect any light but seemed to receive it and hold it captive, he held it aloft and dropped it into the pot, there was no sound, no thunk, no ringing, just silence.

  There was at once a black flamed flair that emanated from the pot and died down as quick as it appeared. A tendril of the smoke led up to the elders hand and bound itself to his wrist.

  The Elder turned and walked back to his place on honour upon the stage trailing the smoke with him.

  ‘Proceed my brethren, make your offerings that we might bring upon this world its deliverance and our lords favour’

  The remining figures took their turns walking up to the cauldron offering their sacrifices.

  Various objects were dropped into the pot including coins, talismans, crystals and other either valuable or magical goods.

  Each man took his turn staring deeply into the Firey eruption that emanated without warning at the gift dropped noiselessly inside. Holding out their hand and receiving the ethereal handshake, slowly turning and taking their assigned places back outside of the circle.

  The elder continued to read employing his reading utensil. ‘With these objects of power and wealth we request of thee oh dark lord…’he turned the page, ‘balance, to balance the scales of equal exchange’

  ‘Brother bring forth the scales ‘he announced

  The brothers looked to each other puzzled, none of them making a move.

  ‘Who was supposed to bring the scales?’ scorned the Elder

  Reaper reached into his cloak and produced a piece of paper

  ‘Scales appear to be absent from the list, Elder’

  There were stifled sniggers until the Elders glare fell upon them in turn.

  All of a sudden one of the brothers raised a finger.

  ‘Err one moment Elder brother I know where there are scales, give me a moment’ he scuttled to a door beside the stage and disappeared for a few moments.

  ‘Some dark cult this is’ murmured a brother.

  The Elder leaned down and whispered ‘Reaper, which foolish brother is this?’

  ‘I’m not too sure Elder, were all dressed the same, makes it hard to know who’s, who sometimes’ responded Reaper.

  ‘We need to have a word later about this’ the elder said

  ‘Yes elder, I shall start thinking of alternative garbs at once’ said Reaper

  ‘No no, I mean the standards of our recent recruitment’ whispered the elder

  ‘Which reminds me we need to talk about the Gatekeeper as well’ Reaper said

  ‘What did I do?’ said Brother Gatekeeper

  ‘Sorry, not you brother, the one at the door now’ reassured Reaper, leaning into the elder and whispering ‘and also maybe the fool that left him in charge of the door’

  The elder nodded solemnly and made his way back to his place upon the stage.

  The brother ran back in carrying a set of kitchen scales and dusted with rather a lot of flour, he moved with the excitability of a labrador puppy who is a very good boy indeed, stopped just short of the pot and dropped the scales in.

  The mist parted and accepted the offering, the cauldron flashed but unlike before the flames did not dissipate, the metal groaned as it pulled in on itself crinkling and crunching followed by an almighty uproar of flame. The mana swept out in a circle travelling through the brothers and extinguishing the candles dotted around the room. With a loud unceremonious pop the room plunged into darkness apart from the scrawling’s on the floor.

  The cauldron was gone, the cores light faded and dissolved into nothing, the crystals above flickered and came back to life dully the ambient mana slowly returning in waves like the tide coming in.

  The elder looked down at the book no longer glowing flipping backwards and forwards between the pages slowly bringing up the page he had been reading from he peeled apart two pages that had been stuck together.

  ‘Buggary’ the elder whispered,

  ‘Everything alright sir?’ said Reaper

  The elder cleared his throat awkwardly ‘ahem, yes, yes quite alright’ and announced to the room ‘The Lord has received our sacrifice now brothers we await his arrival, our glory and just rewards’

  The assembly cheered, shook hands and congratulated each other on a job well-done.

  The Elder reviewed the pages that were stuck together and the realisation had struck that he’d jumped between 2 different offerings.

  Rituals unlike recipes do not invite innovation or experimentation, the results of which could have implications ranging from world shattering effects to apparently the disapparation of a medium sized pot with a undignified popping noise.

  The Elder stroked his beard with a hand just bearing the marks of age and someone getting a little long in the tooth, if he still had them. Pondering the ramifications of the alteration he looked up when the crystals floating above began to flicker.

  The lights all of a sudden shone with such great intensity it filled the room illuminating the whole floor, stacks of chairs and the figures all standing in a circle lit up.

  They raised their arms, eyes closed shut, jaws hanging loose or grinning, hands outstretched and anticipation in their hearts.

  ‘Ahem’ came a gruff female voice ‘Gerald, I thought you and your friends were going to be finished by nine?’

  A grizzled old lady stood by the light crystal control a broom and pan in one hand wearing a floral apron, hair tied back into a no nonsense bun.

  ‘Mum’ a brother sighed with the indignation and looping tone only children can manage ’I said id come and get you when we were finished’

  ‘Look I don’t mind you using the room to play with your friends but we’ve got a wedding booked tomorrow and I need to get this place straight, I cant be doing it all at my age, not with my back’ the mother continued listing ailments and old injuries as the brothers all stood with their heads bowed like a line up of naughty school children.

  ‘and its not like your fathers here anymore to help out like he used to, Gods rest his soul, maybe your friends can help out once you are done with your game? ‘she finished

  The elders eyes lingered upon the woman, a lump forming in his throat at the fine figure of a woman he thought to himself.

  He swept over to her bowed deeply, cricking his back on the way back up and sweeping back his hood revealing a slightly wrinkled face adorned with his salt and pepper beard which was more salt than pepper. Sat above his unremarkable beard flourished a most magnificent moustache, his eyes gazing deeply into hers below overgrown brows.

  ‘Ohhh, Ahem, dear lady we are most assuredly going to aid you in the preparation of this wonderous space, your son and his peers will have this room looking so magnificent that the event will be the talk of the town, how about we discuss it over a nice cup of tea?’ He gently held her hand and kissed it, his moustache tickling her knuckles.

  ‘Oh I do say, a proper gentleman, please do join me, I’m sure I can find some tea in the kitchen or maybe a small brandy given the hour’

  He proffered his arm and she interlocked hers though his and they made their way to the back room.

  After the duo disappeared though the doorway whispering and giggling the brothers all looked at the smallest of their order scratching the top of his hood.

  ‘Looks like someone’s going to be calling a brother Daddy’ sniggered one of the robes

  He whipped around ‘What do you mean by that?’ squeaked Gerald

  Everyone started milling about moving chairs and sweeping floors minding their own business apart from one figure stood where the cauldron previously was, looking down with both hands interlocked atop his head.

  ‘I’m sure it worked, just got to give it time for the magic to do its work, what are you hoping for?’ a brother said approaching him.

  ‘It’s not that, although if I could have anything, id have my cauldron back, my Mrs is gunna kill me’ he said remorsefully receiving sympathetic pat on the back from his brother.

  As the brothers moved around the room like some spectral cleaning crew a voice rang out from the backroom.

  ‘Gerald, where are my good scales?’

  The flour covered brother made a bolt for the exit dropping a broom clattering to the floor, flung open the door with a high pitched squeak and went flying head over heels tripping over the Adjunct Gatekeeper who was crouched down fiddling with the lower hinges.