Title: Trading Partners, Part Four of Four

Author: Emma

Characters: Canonical Torchwood Three members… sort of.

Rating: Some chapters definitely not safe for work.

Disclaimer: Oh, please. If I owned them, would I let some of those idiots write the scripts? And if I were making any money off them, would I be where they could find me?

Summary: Torchwood Three goes chasing monsters, and Toshiko has a glimpse of her true inheritance
Author's Note: The story of Mary Magdalene and the eggs is an old Eastern European legend; the person who told me about it thought it was a way to Christianize the famous painted eggs that are probably of pagan origin; the immortality mass is all my idea. The battle of Hattin really did take place:www.historyofwar.org/articles/battles_hattin.html

Part One is here; Part Two is here; Part Three is here

 

            They were locked in for what seemed like hours. They had tried to get out, but doors and windows were barricaded from the outside. The sights and smells had nearly driven them mad, and finally Owen had wrapped his arms around Gwen and pushed her head into his chest and his face into her hair as they sat with their backs against the door, the only spot that wasn’t covered in blood.  Men walked about outside, and once they heard someone screaming, but mostly they had waited, knowing that their only chance was for Jack to still be alive. But finally it seemed their luck had run out.

            “Stand away from the door.”

            They scrambled to obey as it swung open. Peter Courteney stood outside. He wore Victorian costume, from frock coat to boots. His yellow waistcoat was patterned with red dots. He looked ready for a night at the opera or at his gentleman’s club, except for the rather serviceable gun in his hand and the two thugs with staffs behind him.

            “Come with me, please.” He laughed almost like a child when he noticed their reluctance. “I hope you’re not expecting a rescue from your friend. Evan Sherman confessed to having stabbed him in the melee.”

            Owen took Gwen’s hand. As they reached the door Courtenay stood aside to let them pass, keeping the gun pointed at them. The two thugs fell on either side but slightly ahead, and the little group marched towards the center of the green where a small crowd waited, grouped around a makeshift altar: a table, covered with a white tablecloth, with black candles at all four corners, and a small basket of odd-looking eggs in the center. Torches placed at irregular intervals turned the green into something out of a horror movie.

            “So that’s what this is is all about,” Owen said contemptuously. “Another bunch of idiots trying for immortality.”

            “What do you mean?” Gwen asked.

            “The eggs on the table. There’s a Christian legend that tells of Mary Magdalene carrying a basket of eggs when she went to visit Christ’s sepulchre. The eggs turned rainbow-colored to celebrate the resurrection. An altar with eggs and black candles usually means somebody is trying to become immortal.”

            “Very good, doctor Harper. But not quite right.”  Courtenay stepped forward. “I am not trying. I am immortal. This is merely… maintenance.”

            “Really?”

            Courtenay smiled gently and then slammed the gun across Owen’s cheek, sending him to the ground. “I am Peter de Leger de Courtenay, Lord of Bexley. I went on Crusade, believing as I did that it was our Christian duty to regain the Holy Lands. As I lay dying on the field at Hattin I realized it had all been about temporal power and it would always be about temporal power, and I asked, and I was answered.”

            He pulled something out of his pocket and held it out to them. It was an egg, gleaming gold, but it radiated a heat that they could feel even at a distance. “A man came and offered a trade. A partnership, he said. I would live forever and have powers beyond those of mortal magicians, in exchange for twelve souls every twenty years. Such a little price to pay, really.”

            “And these people?” Owen asked as he dragged himself up.

            “They are my trading partners. They help me harvest the souls in exchange for prosperity. Amazing what full bellies and a safe future can buy.”  He laughed. “And of course, the meat.”

            Gwen shivered. “What will you do now?”

            “Well, my dear, we will harvest the two of you.  I am sorry to say that he enjoys pain, so your deaths will not be easy. As a beginning, I will remove the veil I placed on you. There are no mediums in Cuddfadwn, Gwen Cooper. They all die young or go mad.”

            The sudden clarity of vision nearly drove Gwen to her knees. She staggered against Owen as her senses were pummeled by the cacophony of the dead pressing all around them. She felt Owen put his arms around her waist holding her up as she fought to hold on to her sanity.

            “So many… so many…”

            “Hold on, Gwen. Hold on.” Owen whispered. “The stories you told us… Gweneth, who saved Cardiff from a wraith invasion…  your great-grandmother facing down the banshee...You are strong, Gwen.”

            Gwen giggled. “And you just wait until my godmother hears about this.”

            “Godmother? What about a godmother?” Courtenay pointed the gun at Gwen. “Talk, miss Cooper, or I will shoot you. Enough to hurt a great deal.”

            “My godmother is the Lady Aeronwen, niece to King Gwynn ap Nudd.” The terrified moan from the crowd had Courtenay whipping around in sudden panic. “They know.”

            “Superstition! Fairies cannot harm Christians!”

            Owen laughed. “Really? Did they tell you about Queen Mab’s visit two months ago? Or are you so psychically blind that all you saw were bad storms and cattle dying of some odd disease? Do you know what the Tylwyth Teg do to those who harm their favorites? They attach your intestines to a tree and make you run around it until you are completely bound. And then they let you die there as an example to others. And you cannot die, Courtenay. You will be there forever, paying for Gwen’s death.”

            “I am baptized in the name of Christ. I am…”

            “You abandoned Him when you took on your trading partner!”

            In the distance, thunder rolled and lightning flashed. “Signed and sealed!” Gwen exulted. “Your God gives you no protection, Courtenay. None!”

            “Indeed, He does not.”  

            Jack stepped out of the shadows, flanked by Tosh and Ianto. The crowd around the altar fell back, muttering with panic.  Lightning ripped overhead. It highlighted Jack’s features, giving the beautiful bone structure an oddly unearthly cast.

            “Peter de Courtenay, knight, what you chose cannot be unchosen.” Jack’s words took on the rhythm of an incantation. “You have named yourself apostate. You have no place in Heaven and Hell has no use for you.”

            “No!” Courtenay clutched the golden egg to his chest and backed away, keeping the gun pointed at them. “I will go on somewhere else. There is always somewhere else!”

            The screaming and pointing that erupted from the people around the altar made him turn. The green was now ringed by animals. Cows and foxes and badgers and even the occasional wolf stared at him unblinkingly. Above them the rooflines and trees were lined with birds and bats. Here and there a human form glowed with unearthly light; nature spirits come to reclaim their own.

            Courtenay ran back towards the green keening in terror. Jack was waiting for him. His right hand gripped Courtenay’s shoulder. The touch seemed to burn right through the man’s clothes. His panicked keen turned into an agonizing shriek as his flesh seemed to melt away until only a shadow stood in its place, a shadow wearing a crusader’s tunic and sword.

            “Peter de Courtenay, you are forbidden either Heaven or Hell. But God is kind. You will live as shadow as long as you lived as flesh, and in that time you might seek redemption. Go!”  He waited until the shadow had faded from sight before addressing the others. “The police and the priests will be here soon. We don’t feel very reasonable at the moment, so if you want to live to see them, don’t move even one finger.”

            He turned to Gwen and Owen, who were shaking with exhaustion and relief. “Owen, can you drive?” At the doctor’s nod, he continued. “Take Huw Davies’s car. It’s right in front of the police station. Drive Gwen home. We’ll take care of this.”

            They didn’t argue, stopping only long enough to exchange hugs with Tosh and Ianto. Gwen collapsed into the passenger seat and belted in as Owen got the car moving. They left the village as fast as they could.

            “I wonder why,” Gwen asked almost to herself. At Owen’s inquiring look, she said, “Why they turned cannibal. There was no reason for it.”

            Owen shrugged. “The Bishop’s people will find out. Or the police psychologists. But don’t be surprised if there’s no answer. At least, none that makes sense to a normal person.”

            The rest of the drive was a silent one. They communicated by touch, reaching often for each other as if to make certain that the other one was alive. Towards the end their fingers were tightly linked, and Owen drove with one hand. As the lights of Cardiff came into view, Owen sighed.

            “You’ll need to give me directions.”

            Gwen hesitated. “Rhys is away. When I told him I would be out of town for a couple of days, he decided to go visit his parents in Swansea. I don’t want to be alone.”

            “Gwen…”

            “Just for tonight. I don’t think I’ll make it if I don’t hold on to someone.”

            He nodded. “I know.”  He pulled over and stopped the car. “Gwen…”

            She reached for him. They kissed frantically as if trying to inhale each other, hands petting and stroking whatever part of the other they could reach. He pulled her shirt open and pressed kisses to her breasts, licking and sucking hungrily. She moaned, clutching his hair.

            Finally, with a kiss to her erect nipples, Owen pulled away. “All right. Just for tonight.”