Origin of the Body (7 page)

‘Yep,’ nodded Helena, ‘in fact, a lot of his early education was with Alistair and Jeff, he used to follow them around like a puppy, lapping up anything they said and did.  Jeffrey and Alistair met because they were both conducting energy research and one day Tobias turned up with Anderson and told them unless they wanted their funding cut, they would teach him about the energy.  Anderson was harmless, so they went along with it; I think they quite enjoyed someone doting on them if I’m honest.’

‘Wait,’ said Alexander, ‘Anderson’s not Tobias’ son, is he?’

Helena actually chuckled.  ‘I have no idea.  You wouldn’t be the first person to suggest it, but he doesn’t look much like Tobias, and allegedly Anderson’s mother wasn’t short of suitors, much to Tobias’ rage, so it was more likely one of the others.’

‘If Clarissa trusted you with the diary, why didn’t she just tell you what was in the cylinder?’ asked Anita, dampening the mood as she returned them to a more serious subject.

‘Clarissa was adamant you were the only person who should know its contents and when the time was right, you would open it and share its message with the world.  I didn’t press her as she was resolute, and anyway I don’t think even she knew what was in it.’

‘But that was the night of the fire?’ asked Alexander, keen for knowledge of his own parents.

‘Yes,’ said Helena, reaching for another cylinder, ‘but again, it’s best if I show you,’ she said, the cylinder unrolling and jolting them uncomfortably into a new memory.

They were at the alter in the Body Temple, Clarissa huddled forward, Anita’s infant self sat spiritedly on a step, looking as though she were having a whale of a time, excited to see what would happen next.  Clarissa pulled her into a hug, holding her tightly until she heard the thud of footsteps behind her and spun around to see who was there.  Clarissa was confronted, not with Peter and Gwyn as she had expected, but with Austin and Tobias, Austin an exceptionally good looking younger version of his current self.  Clarissa’s eyes went wide, knowing without doubt their intention, pushing her daughter behind her and barking at her to run and hide.  The young girl’s features contorted, the careless joy of moments before chased away by confused fear as her mother shoved her away.  She looked up, begging for Clarissa to scoop her up and hold her tightly, to tell her it was all a joke, that it was all going to be okay, but was met instead with a stone wall of icy resolve, Clarissa directing all her energy towards propelling Mia away.

Austin and Tobias approached Clarissa menacingly, slowly, making sure there was nobody else in the Temple to get in the way.  Mia finally turned and ran, the toddler out of breath from panic before she even started, Clarissa turning to square up to the Mind Descendants, forcing herself to drag her eyes from her daughter, resolving instead to buy her as much time as she could.

‘Clarissa,’ said Tobias, triumphantly, bloodlust in his eyes as he came ever closer, ‘we’ve been wanting to chat with you for quite some time.’

‘Oh?’ she replied, trying to force her voice not to shake.

‘And you’ve been nowhere to be found,’ he said, a terrifying savagery behind every word.

‘I’ve been in the Wild Lands,’ said Clarissa, eyeing Austin, who was tracking Mia’s course, ‘with the man who’s just had an affair with your wife,’ she forced the words out, hating the confrontation, every instinct in her screaming not to enrage them further, but the need to protect Mia surpassing all.

It worked.  Austin’s eyed snapped round to look at Tobias, to watch what his father would do next, surprise plastered across his features.  Without warning, Tobias stepped forward and punched Clarissa in the face, a right hook that sent her reeling to the ground, her head hitting the cold stone floor with a sickening crack.  Mia stopped in her tracks, turning at the sound and crying out when she saw her mother on the ground.  Clarissa’s eyes found her daughter, a jolt of horror hitting her when she saw she’d stopped.  ‘Run,’ she screamed, as Tobias stepped forward to finish what he’d started, Mia sinking to the floor next to a stone bench, crawling underneath and huddling against its side.

Tobias pulled out a knife and put it to Clarissa’s throat, effortlessly swiping aside her frantic protest as he took her life, Austin pursuing Mia rather than look at what his father had just done.  He’d almost reached her, now backed as far under the bench as it would let her go, tears streaming down her face, when he heard a loud thud behind him.  He whirled round to see, to his astonishment, his father face down on the floor, a knife protruding from his back, blood seeping from him.  Austin desperately scanned the Temple to find the knife’s owner, Anthony stepping forcefully out of the shadows towards him.

‘What have you done?’ he questioned, reaching Clarissa’s body and feeling no pulse.  ‘You’ve killed her,’ he half whispered.  He turned his head expectantly towards Austin, a look of mistrust and disbelief across his face when he heard Mia’s sobs, his eyes flicking around to find her before turning his attention back to Austin, sick to his stomach at what he had seen.

‘I...we...’ Austin had no words.  For a moment he seemed almost as shocked as Anthony, but as he looked down and took in his father’s lifeless form, his uncertainty vanished and he hurtled towards Anthony with furious passion.

Anthony was caught off guard, only just making it to his feet in time to meet Austin’s assault and falling to the floor again at the impact of his attacker’s first punch.  Anthony bore very little resemblance to Alexander; where his son was tall and muscular, Anthony was average height, with a slight build and no interest in Body disciplines at all.  Austin on the other hand was muscle clad and interested in any Body discipline involving violence, the fight between them anything but fair.  Anthony never again made it to his feet, Austin on him before he could, landing punch after punch on Anthony’s untrained flesh.  Austin carried on long after Anthony’s body went limp, brutally bashing Anthony’s head against the alter steps when Peter and Alistair turned up with a third, unfamiliar man.

‘By the Gods,’ said Alistair as he took in the scene, inadvertently alerting Austin to their presence.  Austin snapped out of his blood rage, dropping Anthony and snatching up the knife his father had used to end Clarissa’s life.

‘Stay back,’ he shouted frantically, shooting a sideways glance at Mia, judging whether he could get to her and get out before the others reached him.

The third man followed his gaze and found Mia’s terrified form, rage engulfing him when he saw who it was.  He plunged forwards, towards the front of the Temple, towards the only adult survivor of this horrific atrocity, the need to tear Austin limb from limb all consuming. 

‘Jeffrey,’ Alistair shouted, knowing no good could come from further violence, but Jeffrey didn’t even hear him, let alone respond.  Austin whirled around and fled, no time to pick up Mia as Jeffrey careered after him.  He rounded a corner and grabbed a fire stand, pulling it over, throwing the flames towards the generous swathes of fabric that adorned the nearest archway.  Jeffrey barely noticed the flames as he pursued, the devastating need to catch Austin all his brain would allow room for, the clear night sky now visible through the Temple entrance ahead, urging him ever faster.  He lost sight of Austin, but was certain he would make for his residence, a safe haven where nobody could touch him, his father’s private army on hand to make it so.  He’d almost reached the entrance, all his energy focused on the opening when he thought he saw a movement, something gleaming coming at him from behind the nearest pillar on his left.  He swerved, ducked his head and pulled his hands up to protect his face, but wasn’t quick enough to avoid Austin’s blow.  A solid, terrible force met with his head, his hands only able to dull the impact of a large candle stick against his temple, knocking him backwards, his feet going out from under him, sending him plummeting to the ground.

Jeffrey tried to sit up, but was met with a ringing in his head and a blackness at the edges of his vision that threatened to engulf him so he slumped back to the floor.  Austin appeared from behind the pillar, discarded the silver candle stick and pounced, pulling out his knife and digging it into Jeffrey’s torso without so much as a second’s hesitation.  He stabbed and stabbed, stopping only when he heard the unwelcome sound of running footsteps closing in.  ‘You know Mia’s not even your daughter,’ he hissed viciously, ‘she’s Peter’s.  Only right you should know before you die,’ he said, smiling as he pushed himself to his feet and fled.

The footsteps belonged to Alistair, who could do little to hide his horror at the sight that lay before him.  He fell to his knees next to his best friend, desperately trying to staunch the bleeding, but it was futile and Jeffrey knew it too.  He caught Alistair’s hand to stop him, he could feel his energy slipping away.  ‘Mia’s not mine,’ he whispered, each breath harder than the last.

‘What?’ said Alistair, leaning closer to hear the words.

‘Austin told me Mia isn’t mine.  She’s Peter’s,’ he forced the words out, blood reaching his mouth.

‘He was lying,’ said Alistair resolutely, ‘of course he’s lying.’

‘Look after her,’ said Jeffrey, ‘even if she’s not mine, I still love her.  And now Clarissa’s...’ his voice caught.

‘Of course,’ said Alistair, squeezing Jeff’s hand, ‘I’ll look after her, I’ll make sure she’s safe.  Austin won’t be able to find her.’

Jeffrey relaxed, his eyes closing, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards to form the faintest traces of a smile before his energy finally left him, seeping away into the night.  Alistair slumped to the floor still clutching at Jeff’s hand, tears rolling down his cheeks as he refused to let him go.

The memory paused, a stillness settling before another blinding white light flashed, Alexander and Anita surprised to find themselves back in the potting shed when their eyes adjusted, sunshine blazing through the skylights above.  Helena sat silently, sipping her tea, waiting for the inevitable barrage of questions to begin.

‘What happened to me?’ asked Anita, ‘Alistair went back and got me out?’

‘No,’ said Helena, ‘by the time Alistair tried to go back inside, he was met with a wall of billowing smoke.  The whole place was on fire, it was chaos, and people from the nearby houses had started to realise what was happening and come to help, filling buckets of water and trying to put out the fire.  There was no sign of Peter or you and Alistair feared the worst.  We found out later Peter had got you out, he’d slipped away before anyone else arrived, but when Rose, Celia, Christiana and I turned up, Alistair assumed you were both dead.  He was distraught, we all were, although the true reality of what we had lost took weeks to sink in.  Celia was hit the hardest, she and Anthony had become so complexly interrelated through meditation that it was like a literal part of her had been lost when Anthony died.  She sank into a black hole that nobody could pull her out of.  She spent days by herself, meditating, alone, and when anyone tried to draw her back, she said she was looking for Anthony’s energy, she was sure if only she tried hard enough, she could find a way to reconnect with him.  She never found a way, but trying sapped her of all her own energy.  At the end, she was meditating for days at a time, refusing to speak to anyone, or eat anything, or in any way acknowledge the real world.  One day she just didn’t come back.  Her body was found lying out on the floor as though she was meditating in the love pose, her right hand open by her side, waiting for someone to reach down and take hold.’

It was like Helena was talking more to herself now than the others.  She’d got up and was leaning against the door that led to the secret garden, looking vacantly out into the greenery beyond.  She stopped talking, the air still, her energy sad and lonely, but Anita was more concerned for Alexander, who had just learned the true, brutal and distressing cause of both his parents’ deaths and was responding as you might expect.  His energy was the lowest she had ever felt from him; it was flat, and worse, it was empty, no life, no fight.  He hadn’t moved throughout the whole account, his eyes now angled downwards, staring blankly at the floor.  That he was hurt and distressed was obvious, the pain seemed to radiate out of him, sucking at Anita’s energy, and further deflating Helena’s.  Anita turned to look at Helena, a harsh expression of disbelief directed at the women she had formally held in such high regard, but she was still facing away, not ready to face them.  How could even she be so insensitive?  It was as if she was oblivious to whom she was recounting the story, as though neither Anita nor Alexander had deep and personal connections to those central to the plot, as though she were not imparting information that had been shrouded in secrecy, hidden from the listeners for over twenty years.

Anita took Alexander’s hand and he pulled his head up to look at her, his eyes hollow.  She sent a nudge to the edge of his energy field, trying desperately to find a way to help.  She felt him respond, so she pushed further in towards his core, closing her eyes and wrapping herself around him, willing his spirit upwards.  Alexander responded immediately, pushing his own energy back towards hers, entangling their fields together.  They held themselves there for a moment before Alexander reached out and pulled Anita to him, an eruption of energy transferring through them as her chest came to his.  They felt an impact so strong it was like someone kicking them in the chest and they rebounded instantly at the strength of the shock.

Helena snapped around to see what had happened, intrigue painted across her face, her academic instinct prickling, certain she had just witnessed something unusual.  ‘What was that?’ she asked, her previous, sad memories rapidly chased away on the wings of something here, in the present, that was exponentially more stimulating.