[The Game] Vuja De

Chapter 7

"For small creatures such as we the vastness is bearable only through love."
- Carl Sagan

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Turnpike Lane, London. Present Day.

Michael sat in front of a steaming coffee, the haze coming off the drink reflecting his mood. It had been seven days since he has seen Claudia in the club. Seven days since he'd seen her dissapear. Gabriel had jumped them out of there to the present day, but away from Dublin, to a secure house in north London where Michael could sleep. A little at least. He'd awoken, for what seemed like the thirtieth day in a row, early. By six a.m. he'd smoked three cigarettes, puked, showered and wandered out of the house down to Greenlanes, looking idly at the seemingly never-ending strip of fruit and veg stores. Eventually he went into a cafe.

He looked at the milk swirling on the top of the liquid, his mind drifting in and out of where he was. He sat there for a time, his mind swimming, trying to recall her face. It took him a few moments to notice Gabriel standing beside him.
'Good morning. May I join you?' he asked.
'Sure' said Michael, his eyes turning back to the mug before him.
Gabriel sat down, taking off his gloves. A waitress appeared and he ordered an Earl Grey tea. He said nothing until it arrived back. 'Have you been looking at the photos in here?' he asked.
Michael looked up at him, then to the wall beside him. 'No. I haven't' he said shortly. The walls were adorned with vintage 19th century shots of the local area. Turnpike Lane. Greenlanes. Manor House. Trams and bowler hats, horse-drawn carriages and street market vendors.
'You should. You can learn a lot from old photos.'
Michael sighed. 'Why do I get the impression you're being deliberately cryptic with me?'
'I'm not. I'm simply providing you with information when you need it'
'Really?'
'Yes.'
'When I need it?'
'Yes'
Michael pushed the coffee away from himself. 'You're full of shit'
Gabriel chortled gently. 'That's what my wife used to say'
'You have a wife?'
'Used to'
'Right. But not any more?'
'Nope, not for a while now'
'Right...'. Michael sighed, his eyes drifting across the photos. A particular shot of the bridge crossing Greenlanes held his attention. It showed the entrance to Haringay Park station in what must have been the turn of the 20th century. Horse-drawn trams were frozen in time, advertising hoards for long forgotten commodities, people walking, peering from shadows.
Gabriel shifted in his chair. 'Michael, ask me what you want to ask me'
'I don't know where to start...'
'Start with something small'
Michael stayed quiet for a moment, his stomach heaving.
'Why did you let me make contact with her if you knew she'd be gone an instant later? How am I supposed to walk around with all of that inside of me?'
Gabriel looked at him, his eyes kind, calm. 'Not exactly small. Michael, I apologise, but not everything can be understood right now. But let me put something to you. About her. About all of this. From a particular perspective, all of this is just a story. Nothing more. A sequence of events in time, with particular characters intersecting at particular moments. You with me so far?'
'Ok...'
'Right. So if this is a story, to be re-told at another time, perhaps in a medium that doesn't even exist yet, you need to consider something: she's just a character in that story'
'A character?'
'Yes. Just a character. In a story'
'Is that supposed to mean something to me?'
'I'm hoping that, in time, it will. In time.'
'In time?'
'Yes'
'Time, time, fucking time...'
'Indeed'
'Will I see her again?' he blurted.
'I don't know'
'Will... will those things kill her?'
'Possibly, but I doubt it. She's smarter than they are. Faster, more powerful. She can out-run them. And, out-fight them if needs be'
'Well, if she's not with them, then why doesn't she work for you - whoever the fuck you people are...'
'Well, very simply because she refused. We offered her training. Help. Anything she wanted. Everything really. She told us where to go in no uncertain terms. Agent after agent was sent to find her. They all came back with their asses kicked. One of them ended up in prehistoric Greenland, clinging to a shard of rock in a river of molten lava with severely bruised balls. Seriously, we barely got the poor bastard home. He was in traction for three months. Like I said, she doesn't obey the rules. She plays the game her own way'
Michael studied Gabriel's face carefully, weighing up his next question.
'What are those things? Those things they sent to get her'
'The same things they sent to get you. Wraiths. The shadows of what were once men. Yep, I know, they were human once. Hard to believe I understand, but they were. They sold themselves. Sold their souls. Whored themselves you might say...'
'To who?'
Gabriel paused, looking up from his tea, meeting Michael's gaze. He breathed slowly, considering the face of the younger man before him.
'Michael, if that woman, Claudia, is representative of the good in this world, the power to create and give life, then there has to be a balance, right?'
'Sure. Makes sense'
'Good. Well, if she's the light, then Mr. White is, well, not'
'Mr. White?'
'The one who controls those things that came to get you'
'Who's he when he's at home then?'
'That's rather difficult to explain really. I'll really have to show you'
Michael groaned. 'Is this going to involve me having my ass hauled through space and time to randomly emerge in the middle of some Godforsaken desert where I puke my guts out like a drunken teenager?'
'No. That will pass with time. Especially as you learn to shift yourself'
'Shift? You mean jump through...'
'Yes, shift through space and time. It's not easy. It's extremely dangerous and once you enter that world - the world of shifters - there's no going back. I've shown you to the doorway. I've shown you the opening, but if you jump through, you need to be aware that there is no going back. If you join us, become one of us, there's no walking away Michael.'
'Shifting. Jumping. You'd think that after all these years you guys would have come up with a slightly cooler name for it'
'Well, some of us, the younger ones that is, call it "Vuja De"'
'The what now?'
'Vuja De. The art of using words and memory to re-shape the fabric...'
'Okay, okay'
Michael rolled his shoulders, a crack audible over the hiss of coffee machines. 'How about you tell me this: you people. Who are you? You've been dragging me... who the fuck are you people? Do you have a name?'
Gabriel smiled. 'Cardenio. We're called Cardenio.'
'Cardenio?'
'Yes. Do you recognise the name?'
Michael though about it. 'I want to say that that's the name of a Shakespeare play, but I don't think I've ever read it or seen it'
'That's because no-one has. At least no-one alive'
'What? What are you talking about? Can't you, just for once, give me a straight fucking answer...'
Gabriel held up a hand. 'Cardenio is the name of a play by William Shakespeare. A lost play. A play that vanished almost 400 years ago'
'Why did you name yourselves after that?'
'Because that's what we do. We find things - lost things. Lost books, paintings, stories, artefacts. We restore that which has been lost. Or stolen. Or hidden from the sight of the human race'
'Hidden?'
'Michael, has it ever occurred to you that it's odd how great works of art, by world-famous authors and artists just seem to get lost?'
'Like what?'
'Well, do you remember that painting that was found in Dublin? By an Italian master?'
'Caravaggio, right?'
'Exactly. The Taking of Christ it was called. Lost for centuries. They found it sitting in a Jesuit house of all places. Well, that story is an example of how things can get lost. And more importantly, how they can get found again. And what they can do when they get found'
'Sorry, you've lost me again'
'Okay. Let me explain. That painting is responsible for something. It's responsible for Claudia becoming what she did. Alright, well, not entirely. Life had seen to screwing her up good and proper beforehand, but that painting was what caused her to make her first shift. With you it was the industrial quantities of weed you'd been smoking, your location in Berlin and a residual image from a book you'd seen as a child. That and the date. With her, well, we're not really sure what caused it. Possibly a mutation. A chemical imbalance inside her head. Something which caused her pineal gland to go into overdrive. This happened when she was near that painting and she jumped. Sent her spinning out of sync with the rest of the world. She spent the next six months getting off her face on every drug known to man trying to understand what was happening to her. And then one night, a particular February 14th, she found a way to do it again. Through you.'
'Me?'
'Yep. Through you. Come on, you know this. You felt it. They were closing in on her and she used the connection to you to shift'.
'This is one serious headfuck'
'Yeah. It is. Sorry'
'So, why are you so interested in me then?' Michael asked. Gabriel grinned, a momentary nod of the head noting the question. 'You have the gift. Or curse. Whichever way you wanna look at it, you have it'
'And why would I join you?'
'Cos I was thinking it would make a pleasant change from sitting round the house wanking and crying'
Michael bristled. 'I have not been sitting round the house wan...'
'Because we can teach you, protect you. And, well, you have sufficent motivation. You just don't know it yet'
'What?'
'We want you to help us resolve an open case. A sensitive one. One which you are uniquely qualified to help us with. A book. A lost book.'
'And why would I want to do that?'
'Because your father wrote it'
Michael stared.
'Your real father'
'You motherfucker'
'Sorry'
Michael drained the end of his coffee cup and looked back to the pictures on the wall, his face twisting in anger. The same street-scene grabbed his attention again. His eyes drifted over it, glancing at the figures frozen in sepia.
'Oh my sweet Jesus...' he said.
'What?'
'The fucking bitch...' he said slapping a hand off the table, a snort escaping his mouth.
'What? What's wrong Michael?'
Slowly, his body shaking with laughter, Michael raised a hand, extended a finger and pointed to the picture. 'There. Right there. Behind the carriage with the horse'
Gabriel looked, squinting his eyes. 'I don't see what you... oh my.'
They both sat and stared, their eyes locked on the hazy a figure of a woman, peering out from just beneath the shadows of the bridge. Peering through time. A woman with black hair, black hat, glittering eyes and a slight smile. Giving them the finger. Claudia.
Michael looked at Gabriel.
'Well, I'll be damned' Gabriel said slowly, a smirk forming on his face.
'Did you do this?'
Gabriel looked at him. 'No. I swear Michael, I didn't'
Michael studied his face for a time and then looked back to the picture. 'Un. Fucking. Believeable. She's a fucking brat.'
Gabriel chuckled. 'She's playing with you...'
'So I see.'
'The bag...' Gabriel said, 'she has the bag over her shoulder'
'The bag? What bag?'
Gabriel looked back to Michael again. 'You ready to find out what happened to him? Your biological father?'
'Is this going to upset me?'
'Yes'
Michael snorted. 'Okay then. Fuck it. I'm in. Where do I start?'
Gabriel said nothing for a moment. Michael stared back, unblinking.
'You're sure?' Gabriel asked.
'I've never been more sure of anything in my life'.
'One thing. And this is crucial. You should be doing this for yourself. Not for her'
'I am. This is for me'
'You sure?'
'Yes. I am'
'Okay then,' said Gabriel placing his hands on the table and allowing a wicked smirk to move across his face. 'You need to come with me' he said, suddenly lunging out and slapping a hand on Michael's head, 'It's game time'.

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