The Green Man; Aspect Book 2

[joegoda]

There was a booming rattle that shook the building.

"Yeah," I said, "that was thunder." I sat down and signaled Andrea, the waitress to bring me a beer. I don't like beer, but it's cheap, and I come for the camaraderie of my friends.

Potbelly's is small, maybe six tables altogether, with a bar at the back and a kitchen snuck away in a back corner next to the bar. Dark wood paneling surrounding the patrons and pretty much ever space is crowded with kitsch and knickknacks. There are a couple of flying pig carvings and tires and fishing stuff and little bits and pieces of farming implements and ... well, pretty much any thing that's small and antique. The front door is flanked with a mailbox shaped like a fishing lure on the left and a marvelous walnut carving of a crying Buddha on the right.

It's not terribly bright in Potbelly's. It is, after all a pub. It is loud though. The management changed a few years ago and put in a new jukebox. The old jukebox had Dean Martin, Meatloaf, The Beatles... music that soothed me and brought me joy. The new jukebox is one of those new Internet machines. To get the music that I want, I have to pay about a dollar per song. I think I've mentioned how cheap I am.

The crowd that comes in is younger than it used to be. There are more of them, too. When we started coming to Potbelly's it wasn't terribly busy, and on the nights we went, Thursday and Sunday, there were some odd characters, but it was more like a family, with everyone knowing each other.

Now, Potbelly's is just another meat market, with young folks and folks that pretend to be young trying to find their next sexual target. And these people like their music LOUD.

Regardless, we continue to go there. We go for the break from life, we go for the laughs and we go for each other. And that is why I was there that night.

Another blast of thunder rumbled overhead and the door blew open from a tremendous gust of wind. In the few moments that the door was open, we could see that there was a solid sheet of rain coming down. Nothing in the parking lot was visible, obscured by the downpour.

"What the hell?" Tim exclaimed. He looked accusingly at me, as if it was my fault. "The sky was clear before you got here."

"Yeah, well..." I let it drift. It's not like I hadn't been responsible for a few weather mishaps in my past. "This one isn't because of me," I defended. "There's a big hairy monster after me."

"Oh?" Charity asked, her sweet, round face looking at me. We have a history, Charity and I do. Not a very long history, but a history there, anyway. "What did you do now?"

"Surely it's not that bad." The Doc, whose real name is Craig, raised his eyes sympathetically.

"I'm sorry, honey," Sherry said. "What big hairy monster?" Sherry got up and gave me a hug and a kiss, as she has done... forever.

April didn't say a word. She just looked at me, smiling a secret smile, but her knitted brow showed concern. April is sort of like my twin. I would say evil twin, but it's kind of a toss up as to who is the most evil. She was wearing a T-shirt that read "Fly my pretties!" with the picture of one of the flying monkeys from OZ smiling a shit-eating grin.

I felt a build up in the energy of the place. Not just Potbelly's, but the whole geographical area. I could feel a tingling in my feet and in my hands. There was something about to happen.

"Lift your feet!" I called out. I raised my feet high off the floor. Every one at our table followed my example, except Charity, who had come around to rub my shoulders. I grabbed her around the waist and tossed her onto the table where we ended up with my feet in the air and her butt in my lap and our faces nose to nose.

"Come here often?" I asked her. Yes, I'm the smartass of the group.

Any reply she might have given me was drowned out by a bright flash followed by a loud explosion from out in the parking lot. The slit windows of the place blew in and the door sprung off of its hinges. The lights flickered off, popping and crackling just like in the movies, and a blast of hot air washed over all of us and for a brief moment, the floor glowed bright lava red.

All around us, the other patrons, those that didn't have their feet off the floor, dropped as if they had been shot. Sarah, the manager of the place, looked over at us, her mouth open as if screaming. Andrea was nowhere to be seen. She must have been serving when the lighting hit.

The six of us rose as a unit, ignoring the floor, which had pulsed with heat, but was now glowing a soft cobalt blue, and rushed to check the other patrons of Potbelly's. We split up, checked pulses and counted the living, which fortunately was just about all of them.

There was one old man, who may have died of a heart attack. Tim was the one that found him, and covered the old man with his shirt until the authorities could get there. Later Tim told us that he was glad he was the one that found the old guy, because there was a look of terror on the frozen face.

I found Andrea the waitress, curled up in a ball under a table, a tray of broken highball glasses near her. She is a pretty little thing with blond hair, blue eyes, two children and a husband that loves her. She was unconscious with a nasty bump on her head. Her pulse was strong and she snored gently, sleeping the sleep of the unaware.

Sherry and April were with Sarah, talking calmly to the woman, letting her know that everything would be all right. Sarah had her arms around Sherry's neck and appeared to be sobbing. Sherry was patting the poor woman's head, caught my eye and nodded that she had the situation under control.

Doc and Charity moved as a team, going from one victim to another, rechecking the ones we had already checked.

Doc is a pharmacist, though I suspect he could be more if he wanted to, and he and Charity had worked close together at the same store until the world stepped in and split them up. With each fallen person, they checked both pulse at the neck and pulse at the wrist. Doc had a little flashlight that Tim had tossed him to check for pupil dilation which might indicate a head wound or worse.

Charity was right with him, being the Nightingale of his ministrations. She worked to make the fallen patrons more comfortable; raising their heads off the floor and pillowed with jackets that she had found on tables and even used a couple of phone books. With each of them, Charity talked gently to them, to see if she could rouse any of them from whatever had put them to sleep.

Except for the crashing of thunder and the crackling of sparking neon signs, it was, pardon the pun, deathly silent. I couldn't hear a single sound. The big boom that rocked the place had caused my ears to block, and it sounded like I had water rushing through my head, but I don't think that was the reason.

I walked over to Tim and said, "What do you think?" The words rumbled in my head as I said them, like I was talking through a pillow.

Tim's lips moved, but no sound came out. He looked at me, expectantly.

I motioned to the bar, got a napkin and pulled a pen from my pocket. I wrote, "I can't hear you. Can you hear me?"

He nodded, then started to say something, thought better of it, and wrote on another napkin, "I can hear you just fine. You're ears broken?"

I shrugged, and motioned back to the table. On the way there, I picked up a beer from a table. I figured whoever bought it wouldn't be drinking it. I saw Tim motion everyone to join us.

We sat at the big table that sits next to our little one. We were now seven with the addition of Sarah. She was becoming more alert, and she was apologizing for having freaked out so bad. Sarah has been a part of the Potbelly family for about 2 years. She was our first waitress, and now she's the manager of this place. You'd think that with us coming in here every week she would be ready for just about anything.

I couldn't hear a darn thing. My right ear was bleeding a bit, and my left, which was a bit better, was paralyzed by the shockwave from the lighting blast. Maybe it was because I was the closest to the door when it happened. I don't know. The others seemed to be able to hear in varying degrees. Tim was the best, but that was sort of expected. He has a very unusual energy. Sherry was the next best, followed by April. The Doc and Charity had the rushing sound in their heads, but it was clearing quickly. I was the only one that couldn't hear a thing, and I was a really bad lip reader.

I needed to explain what was japanning to them. I needed to tell them the events of the past few days. I needed their input and their guidance. I needed their help.

I called Sherry over and asked her to be my ears. She thought it meant to write down what everyone was saying so I could see it.

"No, honey," I explained. "I need to plug into you and use your ears. For reals."

I saw her uncomprehending face, so I told her what I needed from her. I needed her to allow me to piggyback my mind onto her so that I could hear what the others were saying. I could have probably gotten away with having every thing written down for me, but I really didn't think we had the time. Even though my left ear was starting to roar at me, indicating that it was starting to come back, it wasn't enough. I had to hear the discussion.

I told her, in simple terms, that it was going to be like it was last year, when she felt me in a dream, except that this time it would happen in real life. Sherry and I share a very special connection. She has known me, and we have loved each other longer than just about anyone in my life. She can almost predict what I'm thinking, and that was why, when I was in a fight for my life with a crazy man in Oregon, she knew it, but through her dreams. I needed her to take it just one step further though.

"What do you need me to do?" She wrote on a coaster, her face showing concern.

I shook my head at her. "Nothing magical," I told her. "Or at least nothing more magical than holding my hand." I held out my hand and she took it. "Just relax, honey. I promise you won't get hurt."

It was something that I hadn't done before. Like I said, I don't really do magic. I do understand something about vibrational theory. Sherry and I were very harmonious. Heck, I think Sherry is pretty much harmonious with everyone. It's just part of her makeup.

Keeping my eyes open, I let a small part of myself flow into her. Sherry jerked just a bit, but it was from surprise more than anything else.

"I always thought you were just kidding about that stuff!" she said. I heard her through her own ears. It's pretty cool when things work out like you planned.

I just smiled at her, my patented fool's grin, which I created just for her. It's the sort of smile that says "yeah, I'm pretty cool at times, ain't I?" I squeezed her hand and she tightened her grip on mine.

"This is pretty cool!" She was excited that she was sharing a... um... magical moment with me. Yeah. She's just like that.

"About a week ago," I began looking at each of them in turn, "I started to feel a disturbance in the force..."

I told them about the dreams, about my talk with Angelina voicing my concerns. I told them about the weird old man with the sign, and the trip through the Transition. I told them about Miriam, her part in the Transition journey and her death. I told them about Detective Blackwolf, and my discussion with him about the things going on. I told them about the thirty year log he had on the odd deaths around this area and how they were centered on Redbud valley. I told them about the trail of magical deaths leading from Chicago to here. And I told them about the dream I had right before I left to go to Potbelly's.

They just stared at me. I could tell they were weighing what I had told them with the stories I had been telling them for the last four years. I had told them a lot of things, mostly true, but mostly unbelievable. To them, I was just a goofy person that could do some odd things and had a very active imagination.

The Doc and Charity were definitely not quite believing me. They didn't quite NOT disbelieve, they just weren't sure if I was pulling their chain or not. April, though she was still pretty new to the group, nodded at me.

"I was wondering what was going on," she said, which surprised me. She saw my eyebrows go up and she continued. "Did you forget that I do magic too, Chester?"

I knew she was involved with the folks in Kansas City. The folks up there are included in the group I call circle casters. They play with this stuff, but I don't think they know the extent of what they're doing. To them, I'm an unfocused force, someone that has no clue about how the world of magic works. Well... surprise. How many of them ever faced down a demon or had their core energy pulled out of their body or had to face down a mad wizard who was on his way to becoming a God? The most I've ever seen them do is toss around some good luck circles, do spiritual massage and applaud themselves.

April, though, has won my respect. When I first met her, she seemed harsh and a bit withdrawn. It was totally my misunderstanding. What it really was, was that she was shy and had no clue how to relate to me and the other two.

I sensed a lot of power in April, though. She had mentioned a few weeks ago in passing that she had become a chosen vessel for a Goddess. The Goddess Diana, in fact. I should have listened to her. As I turned my sight to her, I could see an enormous amount of power streaming from the crown of her head straight up through the ceiling. If she didn't have the Aspect of something really big in her, I'd eat my hat.

"I'm sorry, April." Apologies are always in order. "I just figured it was one of those religious rapture sort of things." She blew a raspberry at me and stuck her tongue at me, and called me a dirty word. I pointed at the energy that was flowing through her. "I can see that there's definitely something going on." I shrugged. "Won't be the first time I was wrong. Won't be the last time, I'm sure."

"Anyway, this force, the Something Bads, are after me. I don't know why, yet." I stopped to see how this had settled in.

Sherry asked, with a straight face, "And this is your hairy monster?"

Tim stood up, looked around with his fists on his hips, stretched his back and said, "Well... I always knew you were a bit odd. I guess I was right." He walked over to me and clapped one of his big hands on my shoulder. "I got your back."

Sherry nodded. "Me too!"

Nods and words of agreement from the others were appreciated, and I turned my Sight on, just to see what was there. I could see, from each and every one of them a much stronger force than I ever thought about them having. Even The Doc and Charity were shining like magnesium flares.

Aspects are coherent vibrations of the beliefs of old gods and goddesses that get absorbed and integrated into the harmonious vibrations of a human. Sometimes, like Pan in me and Demeter in Angelina, they rise to the surface, like a second personality. They carry a lot of the knowledge of the old ways, of the ways of magic and god-like abilities.

Aspects aren't Gods and Goddesses themselves. Neither are the hosts that the Aspects inhabit. That sort of power would burn out a human body. Instead they have access to the echoes of those old powers, a pale and weak imitation of the powers that were attributed to each God or Goddess.

In me, the power of Pan generally manifests as intense charisma, which has saved my bacon on more than one occasion. It's also gotten me into a lot of trouble. There's a few other things that Pan can do, like cause mischief and some energy manipulation, but generally, he's too tired or bored to do much unless I bribe him with something. Or someone, like Miriam. It's a hard life, but hey, someone has to do it.

Demeter, Angelina's Aspect, told me that Aspects tend to find each other, and sometimes search the world just so that they will be with their old buddies. I don't know how it works in the sleeping Aspects... those that haven't waken in the hosts they live in. Maybe the harmonious vibrations do something to the hosts subconscious.

I suspect that is what Angelina's father was doing. Searching out other Aspects to join his army, with him as the self styled Zeus or whatever. James Thomas didn't have an Aspect. What he and his sons did have was a psyche enhanced by LSD and a lot of arcane knowledge. He was sort of forcing his way into his Godhood. That is, until he met a real Aspect, who kicked his ass. Not me. His daughter did the kicking. I just stood there and admired the handiwork.

It seemed that what Demeter had told me was true. If what I was seeing was right, I had an army of six Aspects right here, in each of my pub chums and in myself. Granted, The Doc's Aspect was completely dormant and Charity's Aspect was partly awake, and Sherry's was hidden by an over abundance of humility, and Tim's was held back by a strong sense of morals and his natural skepticism, but there they were, all shining in my sight like the candles in the windows of home on a cold winter's night.

Tim glowed hot red, full of fire and looking like freshly forged steel. Sherry's was a calm green and blue and the smell of Magnolias came from her. April's energy blazed white as fresh snow and looked as taught as a bowstring. Doc's was a clear sky blue, and Charity's was fresh grass green. Sarah had a glow about her, a warm sun yellow, looking like a firefly among all the heavy hitters at the table.

I didn't know what this meant to me. I didn't know how to bring us all together, or how to activate dormant Aspects. In short, I was pretty darn stupid. I'm not much better now. All I knew was that I was among friends and really, really strong ones.

There were tears in my eyes when I pulled my Sight back. "Thank you," I said. "I was afraid you would think I was crazy."

"Oh," chimed April, "we still think you're crazy. There's no doubt about that."

"Yeah," agreed Tim. "But something has got to explain all of this." He waved his hand about to show Potbelly's with its sleeping patrons and glowing floor. "You might be crazy, but it might just be a lunatic we're looking for."

"I don't have a clue to what's going on," said The Doc, "but if you need me, I'm in."

Charity moved to my other hand and took it. "Honey, whatever you need from me, it's yours."

Sherry opened her mouth to say something wise and wonderful, no doubt, but she didn't have the chance. There was a door crashing in that interrupted her.

We all turned toward the now vacant doorway. Well, mostly vacant. There was a man in it, rather than a door. The door which was now a mass of splinters at his feet.

Imagine the Lucky Charms leprechaun. Now, imagine him about six feet tall, with a mass of hair that stood out all over his head instead of his cute little derby. Instead of green, dress him in dark stained leather, with black spiky gloves and black hobnail boots. Give him eyes that glowed with a fierce ruddy light, like two embers way back in a coal bin. And have him laugh like a crazy hyena on PCP.

That is what we were looking at, with a storm the likes that Oklahoma would probably never see again as a backdrop. A great boom of thunder interrupted his laugh, but he never lost his smile, bless his lil demonic heart. He raised one gloved finger and pointed it in my direction.

Of course, it was at this point my hearing returned.

"I've come for him," the apparition said. "The rest of you can leave, or the rest of you can die. Makes no never mind to me."

He stepped over the threshold, and where his boots met the cobalt glow of the floor, wisps of rancid smoke rose, smelling of melted rubber and death.

Sherry gulped and whispered, "Hell of a day at sea, sir."