The First Age

A bigger crowd had gathered than Rowan had anticipated. Her reputation from New Orleans did not follow her across the pond, so, really, she was only expecting three or four people; if any. Voodoo didn’t have much of a scene in this part of the world, despite the Ascendancy and his promise of refuge for those that could wield magic. She had been sure she’d find someone here that knew the secrets of the Loa, of root working, of secret swamp magics. There wasn’t anyone like that in the First Dominance and if there was, they had to be hiding.

                Rowan had flown out here about a year ago, searching in vain for her twin brother, Aiden. It should have been way easier to find him. Punk-rock author movie stars weren’t exactly common and Aiden was the loudest one of them all. At least he had been. Everything changed since he had fallen into that coma; and not just for him. Rowan had changed and so had the rest of the family. Mother insisted that Father knew more than he had been letting on, but the crazy old coot refused to speak on the subject. Oh, he had hinted plenty of times that he knew exactly where Aiden had run off to. Mother had spent countless nights fighting with him about it, but eventually, he just started working late, not coming home until Mother was passed out on the couch with an empty bottle of Grey Goose nestled under her arms.

                Aiden had to have come to Russia. There was no other option for him. Rowan had spent a year and a half trying to convince him to leave the states with her and make a new life out here in the new heart of the World. He gave her the cold shoulder. He didn’t want to open up to her anymore. Did he actually blame her for how things went down with Kyle? Fucking bullshit that was. She didn’t tell Aiden to cheat. She didn’t tell him to stick with Kyle just to keep the band together! But no. He just had to go thinking with his dick. Men. All of them were the same… Well, most of them were… Her late husband had been different. The Saints had crafted him especially for her… And they also decided she wasn’t worthy of him… Fate was so fickle.

                With a huff, Rowan brought her thoughts to the present and looked around at the crowd assembled. There was a light whisper here and there. She wasn’t stupid. There were no true believers here. That wasn’t a bad thing. She wasn’t a believer when she attended her first ritual, but it only took one to convince her. That was partially the point behind tonight. If she couldn’t find anyone out there that ‘Rode with the Loas,’ then she would make believers out of the entire city if need be!

                It was time.

                Rowan threw both arms in the air, gesturing for silence. A hush fell over the crowd. Every eye turned to her as the band behind her struck their drums. Ten men beat out a steady tribal rhythm, four women accompanying them with rattles and tambourines. Rowan would have liked to have had more authentic instruments, but these would have to do. The band was hired, they weren’t practitioners as was tradition, but Rowan thought a few might be coming around. They had been on her payroll for the last six months if anything they wouldn’t be leaving her anytime soon.

                The vibrations from the drums seemed to amplify as Rowan lost herself to the rhythm. Her body began moving of its own accord with the music and that familiar light sprung up behind her shoulder. Papa Legba ready and waiting, as always. With a flick of her wrist, seventy-seven candles in varying colors sprung to life around the perimeter of her circle. A thick chalk line marked the boundaries of the large circle and no one was allowed to cross it’s threshold, lest Rowan command a Loa into the body of another, in which case the Loa would take control and enter the circle, adding to the magic being worked tonight.

                Rowan’s body dipped and writhed with the beats of the drums, somewhere a trumpet started playing. She didn’t hire a trumpet player, but she welcomed it. The sound seemed odd in contrast to the tribal beats that her band played, but it worked, and that was what Voodoo was about, using what worked. For instance, the herbs and powders that Rowan was now tossing about the circle. It seemed half hazard at first, but eventually, a symbol appeared in the herbs. It looked like a cross with other crosses, circles, and stars all mixed into its design. Rowan pulled a Cuban cigar from somewhere inside her bodice and lit the thing. She took five long puffs while dancing; then she pulled a flask out from her sleeve. Dark rum sloshed about the inside of the aluminum flash, Rowan taking a long swig and then spitting it out into the air. She spun in place, scattering the rum from the flask in all directions.

                Then she stopped, arms outstretched towards the heavens once more, and she yelled out in a loud and commanding voice, “Papa Legba! Papa Legba open the gate for me! Atibon Legba, louvre port-la pou mwen! Papa Legba! Now!”As the words left her mouth, the flames of the candles shot five feet into the air as if they were each a mini flame thrower. Rowan took five more puffs of the cigar, blowing it all out in a circle around her. The candles died back down to their normal, steady flickers. The crowd gasped and sank back a little, but no one left.

                Rowan felt the energy coursing through her, like a proud river, carrying her down into the womb of Erzulie Dantor. It was the most delectable feeling in existence, better than sex even! Rowan spun round and round, chanting loudly, “La Fanmi semble, eneo; la fanmi semble, non! E agoueto, ca hinde; na’pe hin’de o! La fanmi semble, eneo; na’pe hin’de Papa Loko Ati-sou!”

                She kept chanting those same lines over and over until a strong gust of wind picked up and rushed through the silent crowd. Voices seemed to be carried by the wind, voices most of these people hadn’t heard in years. The voices of their ancestors. Looks of shock passed on many faces of Rowan, but she didn’t notice. Papa Legba was inside of her, riding her soul so that he may touch the physical plane once more, and it was marvelous. The light coursed through her and she just kept dancing and chanting.

So that night at the bar was all kinds of excitement even if dollface had disappeared. Eh. Who cared. Sure he'd hoped to get into her pants. After all, she'd stalked in front of him flaunting her assets, after all. Perfectly round enough to bite into. And she was kinda crazy hot. Well, no kinda. All kinds of hot. The kind that would rip your throat out as soon as kiss it. Crazy hot indeed.

And fuck but it would be fun either way.

Still, ending up fighting against Kolos with Scarface- and saving Yakuza to boot? Come on. Lady chaos was always up for something. You just had to trust her. Course, like dollface, fate would just as soon throw you to the wolves and see if you survived. Just for fun, after all. She played her games too.

Well, Mik survived. No one knew. No one suspected. So many cracks to exploit. Things to learn. People to interact with. Maybe help out, like he had with Kat and Daniel. Seeds, you know? He was always planting seeds. Playing a role. The goof. The good hearted sap. The informant. The son of a former somebody in Moscow's underground. The player. The scoundrel. The thief. He didn't care. A million masks. All fun. 

No one knew his true game. Only lady fortune. And for now, at least, she favored him. Haha! Fortune's favorite! I like that. The cracks were everywhere.

Like tonight. He was feeling frisky and all.The fight had been good. The power burning away those Kolos was a rush, almost as good as zext. Never as good as Ambrosia, sadly. That died with Vlad, the asshole. He'd heard chatter that Mordvinov had a lead on someone who could duplicate it, but that didn't pan out. Too bad too.

Anyway, where was he? Oh yeah, tonight. Yeah, he was feeling playful. Heard about some ritual coming to town. Now he didn't normally care for such things. But Voodoo was so strange sounding. Chaotic, at least when compared to all the bullshit that went on in the churches he was familiar with.

Almost like it sang him a little lullaby all sweet and all. 

Come on, little Mik, 
I've got a show for you. 
Come on, little prick, 
come see what I can do. 

He laughed at his wittiness. Damn, I should be writin books and shit. He laughed at his stupidity.

So ANYWAY (for like the third time- damn, man, keep your mind focused!) so there is this thing and he decides he's gonna go check it out. Ok? Ok. At least the girl in the flier looked hot.

The crowd was pretty impressive. He got himself near the front. He wanted to see this. And there was a band, of all things. Maybe this was like those rock churches, all cool music and stuff, to try to appeal to the kids. But no. The music was....different. Insistent. He felt the beat of the drums.

And the woman in front began to dance and he didn't take his eyes off her. Yeah, hot. But that wasn't it. He...nope. He couldn't figure it out. Well there was a cigar. And rum. I mean who didn't like rum, right? Cepting, she was spitting it out, dancing around like a wild person, speaking all kinds of words he couldn't understand.

Most of all, though, was the unexplained lighting of candles in various colors. And then the wind and the hint of voices. Somehow, that snapped him out of the trance. At least this much. He got it. Hahahaha, yeah he did.

He looked up at the sky and smiled, winking, as he slipped the lighter into his hand. Power flooded through him and he channeled, the flames dancing on the candles growing higher and higher, shifting in color. It wasn't too hard. Fire was what he did. An idea occurred to him and he kept himself from grinning.

The flames began to dance in rhythm to the drums.

Ok. Maybe he did smile. 

Ok. Maybe he even laughed a bit. 

More than a bit? I mean come on! How is that not funny?

The energies coursed through her, Papa Legba riding her soul! He was the Keeper of the Crossroads, The Trickster, The one Loa that must be called before all else. It was he who had shown her this pleasure, this ecstasy. Colors were more vibrant, the sounds were louder and deeper, life was more complex. All of this from the power of Voodoo. Oh, Rowan knew about the Channelers, she knew that she was one of them. She did not understand how the other Channelers gained their powers. Did all of them worship the spirits of the Ancestors as she had? She didn’t know. She had never met another Channeler… Although she had a strong suspicion that Aiden had the aptitude… If she could just find him and show him what she could do thanks to the Loa!

                The drums took on a deep, sinister beat; the candles surrounding her all began dancing to the beat of the music. Somehow, she knew that it wasn’t because of her… Rowan had not willed that to happen. The candles were supposed to respond to her and it was not the time for them to move again. Not until the music had gotten faster. Just noticing it threw her off a little. Her dance became slightly less complex as her eyes scanned the crowd. There was another Channeler here. There had to be. The Loa did not make things happen on their own. They needed to ride the soul of one of the living to affect the world in any capacity. But where?

                After a moment, Rowan picked the man out. The entire crowd was transfixed, silent; save for a few gasps and murmurs here or there. This man, this dark, sexy motherfucker was actually laughing. Laughing! During her ceremony! There was only one thing for it…

                Rowan turned to the man, regaining her footing and beginning a sultry, tribal dance towards the man. She flicked a wrist up to the sky and then another towards the ground, causing another gale to converge on the circle. The wind came from all directions, pulling into the center of the circle and then spiraling upwards in a vortex. It caused Rowan’s garments and long, flowing hair to rise and dance in the gale; she looked ethereal, almost like a Goddess Reborn in the realm of mortals. The energies shifted inside of Rowan, letting her know that Erzulie was now riding her soul. The perfect Loa for her purposes. She advanced on the man.

                Slipping a hand into her bodice, Rowan extracted her Tarot cards and threw them up into the vortex of wind. The cards danced and flew about for a few moments before all seventy-eight cards fell to the ground, despite the constant wind. All fell face down except for three; all Major Arcana cards, signifying events of incredible magnitude. Rowan heard a name and a song in her head as she read the cards, which fell at the stranger’s feet.

                The Fool… Strength… Justice…

                Rowan’s arms shot skyward and the winds stopped. She called out to the strange man, “Come on, little Mik, I’ve got a show for you. Come on, little prick, come see what I can do!” Her hand beckoned to the man, inviting him into her circle. Inviting him to ride with the Loa. Inviting him to her. He was a Channeler, she was sure of it. If he would not come into the circle, she end the ritual early just to ensure that she could speak to the man. She had looked for so long… Looked for another that might talk to the Loa… He might not, but if he could wield magic and he was here, why wouldn’t he ride with the Loa?

                “Come on, Mikhail,” She called out one final time in a sultry tone before shaking her hips back to the center of the circle. All eyes were on Mikhail as she began to hum and writhe with the rhythm.

Well hot damn!!! Mik's grin widened until he was almost laughing. Like she had pulled it from his mind or whatever. Fuck, the Lady was out tonight, fluttering her fingers and making the universe twitch. His heart bounced with excitement.

And he fucking loved it. He felt a buzz in the universe....a buzz like he was high or drunk or tripping. Connected man. And his Lady was leading him along.

So who was this girlie that called him by his name? The Lady wanted them to meet. Visions of fire and this whole fucking facade crashing to the ground, smoldering, wreckage, filled his mind. Bye bye Nik!! Hahahaha!

Fuck it. He walked forward confidently. He was called. The game was the game. 

But he was not a spectator. It amused him to weave fire as a halo around his head. Not too strong. Can't ruin the do, you know? Singed hair is not exactly a turn on.

He bounded forward and entered brazenly and walked up to her, into her space. He overtopped her by a lot. His head tilted slowly as he peered into her eyes. A smirk was on his face, playful look in his eyes.

A whisper. A quirk of the eyebrow. Playfulness in his eyes. "Shall we dance?"

Rowan’s eyebrow quirked and a sly smile crept across her face as Mikhail strode brazenly into the Circle and right up to her. Erzulie flowing steadily through her veins, a calm mountain breeze carrying threads of power through her, enabling her to change the world at her whim. This too was by her own whim. Mikhail approached her because she wanted him to approach her, why else would he be allowed to enter the Circle so freely? The Circle was sacred, it held power like no other; amplified it even! Whenever Rowan had performed a full ritual, Circle and all, the results were always magnificent.

                Mikhail propositioned her for a dance. Of course, he would. She willed him to. This was the power of the Loa! One just had to talk to them, invite them into their body and let the power take hold. Surrender to it and the world could be yours! It was sweeter than a lovers touch and more tender than a mother’s kiss, it made life worth living, something Rowan sooner die than lose. How she hadn’t discovered it earlier in life, she would never know.

                Her partner was taller and broader than her, he smelled of booze. All the better. It only meant that it would be easier for the Loa to ride him. Easier for the magick to flow. Oh, this Mikhail, what a blessing. He just had to speak with the Loa, know the secrets of Voodoo; seen the gifts of Damballah Wedo, feared Chango, and felt the undercurrents of Yemaya. This was a man she had to get alone, she had to pick his brain. Perhaps after all the magic was done, she would take him to the bar for a pint or two. Then he would talk most freely. She was sure of it.

                “That is why I called you here, Mikhail. Let your mind run free and lose yourself. With me,”she spoke in that same siren song, urging him with her eyes and her tone to run wild with it; let the music consume.

                The drums slowed to a steady, hard beat; thick and bold, resonating over them like the arm of Erzulie herself. Rowan began a wild dance around Mikhail, writhing up and down his leg, swinging her head about, and throwing her arms wildly. It was primal and raw. Not conventionally sexy, but there was a particular energy about it that was invigorating. Mikhail didn’t even have to dance if he wanted, Voodoo or no, he really could’ve just taken it all. It was up to him to jump into the chaos.

                As Rowan danced, flowers sprang up at her feet, pushing through the cracks of the paved ground. The Veve’s, Voodoo symbols that invoked the Loa, on the ground splintered as roses, lavender, and magnolia blossoms pushed through and sprang up in the moonlight. Rowan took no heed, stomping on a few of the blooms in her dance, their petals swirling about in her frantic dance.

                “I know what you are, Mikhail. And I think you know what I am too,” She breathed in his ear before dropping low and then rising along his side, hands fluttering about the flaming halo that stood stark against his head. She was not shocked. She knew. As soon as she saw him she knew.

                The entire audience gasped in unison. That pleased Rowan. She had done well. The Loa had done well. This was her thirteenth ritual and finally, someone had shown up that could do the impossible; one that could commune with the Ancestors. She had so many questions for him. Hopefully, he had the answers… If he was a dud… Rowan banished the thought. Of course, he could teach her something, the Loa had brought him to her, after all. There was a murmur throughout the crowd again, a few shifting uneasily. Rowan noted at least three other men perking up as if making to enter the circle. But they knew better.

                Rowan had found what she had been looking for, and unless another Channeler popped up in the crowd, she would be dragging this man away for further questioning. Not that she thought it would be hard, he was giving her that look after all. She had been counting on that.

                What a fantastic night this was turning out to be. Erzulie swelled in her again and she danced.

Two men of the CCDPD spread out into the courtyards as they came through the arched gate. They moved firmly, with a purpose, down a number of access staircases, passing over the administrative offices and manicured gardens toward their goal --  a public square which directly faced this gatehouse. 

The watch had just changed to nighttime, and those two men who were obliged to work outside, in this summer heat, performing vehicle checks and stop-and-searches, were almost five minutes into their public safety duties when dispatch called in a new assignment for the pair.

The two men wore their best game faces and police dress suits for this gathering... it was necessary to provide CCDPD presence, for now.

Lih moved past his partner Costa, striding with graceful ease like a man on a recreational stroll. His physique was lean and lithe. He moved like a dancer, limbered up and ready to perform. His white blonde hair was bone pale in the full moonlight; the sky above the city was the color of a frozen lake.

Lih -- a white shape against the dull white sky --- hesitated at the back of a growing crowd and, after adjusting the augmented lens-view in his eyes, looked up at the outlandish, breathtaking woman inside the Circle, in a vortex of dancing and chanting. He wondered what she was seeing?

The sounds of drumming became louder. The woman shuddered to its beats, and made a moaning sound in her throat, the sound of a feline, mauled and cornered. Her panting breath showed through as vapor--smoking as if a fire raged within. Without warning, flames and winds tore free from her and ran toward the crowd.

Lih cried out, thinking that the strange fire was going to hit somebody, and moved instinctively to block it as fast as his long-limbed body would let him. The flames fizzled as he pushed through the crowd -- she hadn't intended on hitting anybody at all.

Lih didn't know anything about voodoo, but he knew that this practitioner, this foreign witch, had exceptional presence. Her voice was deep and somehow reassuringly coarse and unaffected as she summoned a man by the name of Mikhail. Was he her accomplice? Thought Lih as Mikhail laughed and approached her without fear. 

As she danced with Mikhail, she was an energized, trembling shape, a shape that had once been a woman, leaping and bounding, laughing and surging, like voltage freed from a cable. As if carried in by the unnatural wind, flames and fresh flowers bloomed around Mikhail's head, and Lih couldn't help but to gasp to the broad-chested man by his side.

"Costa, what the hell is going on? And where's this music coming from?" 

Li found himself in Moscow again. This time not because he wanted to but because this was where he last had a hunt. Signing those papers had been a death sentence for his last project. Being a god was inconsequential to his Atharim affiliation. How the studio got wind of it Li didn't know but they had and they had let him go. They said they found a better fit. But Li was absolutely positive it had to so with the killing of gods. Though he had never participated in such an action. He only hunted monsters. Hunting people in the middle of shooting a movie would kinda be noticed. But either way Li was out of work. And now he had to find something else to do with his time.

He had no job. He had plenty of money. The Atharim didn't want him he betrayed them. Though that wouldn't stop him from getting to the bottom of monster cases. It was easy to do once you knew what to look for.

The park was usually quiet but today it was full of people. Li stopped to watched. Voodoo wasn't something his masters had taught. It wasn't their traditions but they practiced balance in form as well. It was not precisely the ceremony he have liked to witness and he might have to make a trip back to the temple to renew his own strength in his faith. Li watched the display and the interesting call of a man from the audience. He wondered how much of it was show and how much of it wasn't.

The woman had a presence about her, and the things she could do rivaled his own tricks. Was she one of the reborn gods?

Moscow had proven to be the crown jewel of the CCD. The home of the Ascendancy and prosperity. The rich walked everywhere. Their cars led the way down every street. Sometimes Xander was sure even their dogs shit gold. It was such a strange place when he first arrived. But really it wasn't that much different from home. Sure the English accents were slightly more slavic, but that was an easy impersonation to make. Right now Alexis was just a Frenchman looking for his next biggest investment. He was checking out all the hot spots, local cuisine and mom and pop stores looking for those big buy outs. And in those places Xander could see images of everyone. And the more he learned about Moscovians the more he saw their strange encounters.

This was the another home of the fucking snakes. Their death auras were everywhere Xander looked. And those people who were out of a home from the Baccarrat mansion burning - all had their death auras. Xander almost left but then the Ascendancy did something miraculous. He changed a building into a giant monument. He'd watched on TV and swore one day he'd find himself face to face with the most powerful man on the planet. He wanted to see what he could see. He was sure it would be death and destruction, but it could be fame and wealth too. For Xander of course.

As with every other day Xander was wearing the perfectly tailored suit down the middle of the park he walked daily. It was usually quiet. But today a crowd had gathered and a woman spewed gibberish. He remembered another woman who spewed gibberish much the same as her, but the words were different. The accent too. But it didn't matter, not really. Xander stopped and watch as she hurled fire.

Her aura was predominately gold and green which meant she truly believed in what she was doing - whatever vein of the occult she delved into. She was special, many images floated around her. She had a strong familial tie that was the strongest of the images. Everything else was harder to make out and determine what they meant. And at the edge of the crowd the definition was shallow, if he wanted to see better he'd have to get closer.

But she called out to another man - called out by name. An interesting trick, Xander thought. The man seemed amused at the very least. He too was special, the images around him shifted and rearranged themselves with each step. His aura was a wash of reds and black. He was a thriving energetic man, but something had harmed him and he'd never forgive whatever it was. Xander saw a territorial dispute, but he wasn't sure if it was new or old. That was the problem with his sight, he never knew exactly what it meant unless it was a death. A death was a death and it was final. If he saw it, it happened.

Xander sighed as the display went on. He glanced around the rest of the crowd and picked out a few with silver auras. Those were usually low hanging fruit. As he scanned through one man was silver in color but it was dying into the black depths of the man in front of the crowd. Depression and foolishness was in his future. And he had **that** aura. The death order around him. The snake was broken, but it was still there, and it didn't look weaker for being broken. How you broke a snake Xander didn't know, and he didn't care. He made his way to the very far side of the crowd away from rich and snakey. He wasn't about to get caught up in his aura. No - stay the fuck away from them.

Unfortunately that meant getting closer to the girl up front. But there were fates worse than death.

Hehehe....Mik was sooooo enjoying the experience. Girlie was all over him, writhing and sliding her body against his. 

If this is church, sign me up!! Damn but she felt good, all firm and soft in the right places. She flashed him a look a few times that made his blood race, even as she twirled and he saw her firm ass sway seductively. He ground his teeth.

Once or twice he looked into the audience and saw the hunger, the longing in their eyes.

Kinda wierd, and all, really, being all public. He preferred to work in the background. Still, he was having fun. It wasn't voodoo for him. It was the power.

And then he laughed out loud as realization hit him. Laughed so hard, even as she was grinding into him with that ass and he was so hard and was definitely willing to take her then and there. Laughed and then flung his hands up into the air, lofting colored balls of fire up.

Up and up and up they flew and he felt as if his soul went with them. He looked down at the crowd, hungering and blind, he saw their tears and their fear and their hope and their desire. So....pathetically needy. The balls reached their highest point and then...

And then...

And then...

He released, orgasmic joy flooding him. The balls exploded, fireworks of every color imaginable raining down on them. 

It was all so fucking obvious. All the old religions were about channeling. All of them. Looked like Old Bitch Nik was right. They were gods.

But of course they weren't. And that was what was so fucking funny. The Lady seemed to wink from the stars, nodding that he got her little joke. He smiled at the heavens.

They wanted gods. He'd give em gods. Hottie was writhing around and all, telling him she knew him. Probably. Hopefully she was smart enough to know the truth. Believing your own hype was the biggest joke of all.

Mik channeled again, braids of fire that wreathed both of them, whirling around, kicking up leaves. It was hot, but who cared. Sweat slicked his hair back and he was wishing he didn't have the leather jacket anymore. Still, he enjoyed how her clothes clung to her body.

"I know you too, doll," he whispered. And then, without a care in the world, he kissed her hard.

Xander watched the pair writhe on the makeshift stage, everyone watched enamored of the goings on. The man's aura grew into something more primal, more savage and when he did whatever the fuck he did, the images grew darker. Xander rolled his eyes and muttered to himself, "Fucking idiots."

The crowd was eating it up. There was a pair of cops across the way. Their aura's were typical of the protective professions. Browns and blues tinged with death. There was always death, but these two seemed to have more like the snake just the other side of them. And now from a distance the Asian snake seemed familiar. He'd seen him somewhere before, but couldn't really put his finger on it. He'd remember later when it was well past time to care. The pale looking man, way too pale to be normal had an indicator that he was getting a promotion in the near future. It hadn't happened yet. Snakes and ghosts flicked through his aura.

Xander sighed and turned his attention back to the ceremony, if they started fucking on stage he was leaving. No fucking way I'm staying to watch that show, Xander thought to himself.