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The Queen's Magicians: Cold Mirrors (3/4)
Title: Cold Mirrors (3/4)
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: Toshiko is drawn into a web of lust and murder....
Author's Note: This is Adam
Author's Note: "Because no one has more thirst for earth, for blood, and for ferocious sexuality than the creatures who inhabit cold mirrors" Alejandra Pizarnik
Author’s Note: St. Dominic Loricatus was a real person. He was a Benedictine but I’ve changed his story a little.
First part is here; Part two is here
“They are called craving revenants,” Jack said. “Though they're not really reanimated corpses. In some folk tales they're called thirsty ghosts.”
They were sitting in a large conference room commandeered by DI Sullivan – whose first name was, of all things, Alaric – drinking Ianto's coffee, which he had produced like a magician producing rabbits out of a hat. DI Sullivan had take one sip and decided that if Torchwood could produce such ambrosia, its nasty reputation had been greatly exaggerated. Tosh was unwilling to disabuse him of the notion.
“They are incredibly rare,” Ianto said as if speaking about an orchid. “The last documented one was destroyed in eighteen ninety eight by Torchwood Scotland. It took three exorcisms and the destruction of every mirror in Kenwood House.”
“How are they...” DI Sullivan hesitated, “born?”
Jack held out his cup for a refill. “Best that we can tell, they are the souls of people who have spent their mortal years practicing particularly vicious forms of self-denial, either through fear or pride.”
“Exaggeration of virtue being one of the demonic temptations,” Sullivan, a good practicing Celt, said, “they would be damned.”
“Perhaps. But what seems to happen is that at their moment of death their thirst for whatever form of human experience they denied themselves explodes into overwhelming desire. Their souls are trapped in this plane, trying to satisfy it. Except they can't.”
“That's what I felt from Adam Kingsmark. Endless craving.” Tosh shivered. “Jack, the cat said that they live in mirrors.”
“It’s more that they can use mirrors to attach themselves to a living person. Then they can use that person’s energy to create a flesh and blood body for themselves.”
Tosh gave a small bleat of distress. “That’s what happened to Kathy, then. Adam used her to…”
She couldn’t go on. Ianto put his arm around her and she relaxed into his embrace. They had arrived less than two hours after Owen's call. Tosh had giggled herself into hiccoughs at the look on DI Sullivan's face as the black unmarked helicopter hovered over the tennis court and Jack and Ianto had dropped lightly to the ground in best paratrooper fashion.
“Do we know anything about Adam Kingsmark?” asked DI Sullivan.
“We should by now,” Jack said. “Tosh?”
Tosh pushed a few buttons in the tablet pc propped up in the table in front of her and a holographic screen appeared above it. She grinned at the policeman’s muttered whoa. The screen glowed green for a moment, then the image resolved into a view of the Hub with Gwen and Andy in the foreground. They both looked at Tosh with concern.
“Are you alright, cariad?” Andy asked.
“I’m fine,” she answered him and smiled to see nearly matching expressions of doubt on their faces. “Really. What did you find about Adam Kingsmark?”
“Sir Adam Kingsmark,” Gwen said with a snort, “ was the master of a small manor and farm, Kingsmark Chase, near Frilforth Heath, not too far from Oxford. Born in 1789. Became a lay brother in an odd offshoot of an obscure flagellant order founded by one Dominic Loricatus. We found a diary from the local priest. The poor man was utterly horrified by Sir Adam’s practices. Lashes every day during prayer, wearing a hairshirt woven out of thistles, sleeping only three hours a day, eating only bread and milk, except on Sundays when he allowed himself two slices of roast beef. Oh, and never speaking to a woman. Ever. Once he flew into a rage because the widow of one of his tenants tried to speak to him and he slashed her with a whip.”
“Ugh,” Jack said. “So what happened?”
“It seems that Sir Adam was thrown from a horse. He was badly hurt, and called for the priest to administer last rites. Whatever he said horrified the priest. He didn’t write it down, of course, but he did say that he returned everyday to pray at Sir Adam’s bedside. And then there is total silence, except for a brief note about the burial service.”
“And that’s when it gets really interesting.” Andy jumped in. “The property was inherited by Sir Adam’s sister, Lady Alaina de Bloix and her husband. Strange things started happening at Kingsmark Chase almost immediately. Lady Alaina’s favorite maid died in what was described in the parish register as consumption but rumors were that she had thrown herself off an attic window to escape something or someone. Then one of Lady Alaina’s daughters nearly drowned in her bath. Finally the family sold the property and left. Kingsmark Chase changed hands ten times in fifty years. The last owner, Oswald March, burned it down after his daughter was found dead in her bed.”
“That wouldn’t have destroyed him,” DI Sullivan said.
“No,” Jack confirmed. “He just waited until he could attach himself to someone and start all over again.”
Owen had been listening, slouching in an armchair by the window, one hand twirling a pen. “So how do we kill it?”
Tosh looked at him, surprised by the cold, vicious tone. She hadn't heard Owen sound like that in a long time. He sounded the same way he had done the first time she had met him, when Jack had brought him to the Hub after Katie's death.
'Technically, we don't,” Jack said. “We need to send him on.”
“You mean you have to send him on.” Owen almost snarled. “Oh, all right, don't all look at me like I've shot your puppies. What do you want me to do?”
“Talk to the forensic team. Sometimes the solution is both material and spiritual.”
Owen nodded and stalked out, not looking at Tosh. She felt somehow bereft. They had become good friends since the Diane Holmes episode. It wasn't an easy relationship like she had with Ianto, Andy, or Gwen, but she had come to rely on him. She heard Gwen start to speak again and dragged her attention back to the screen.
“According to some reports we found in a local paper, Kingsmark Chase was recently used as a training site for archaeology and anthropology students from Oxford.”
A picture of a group of students in shorts, t-shirts, and boots, grinning happily at the camera, filled the screen. Tosh pointed at one of the older adults in the back. “That’s Kathy. Well, Professor Vaughan.”
“The reports say that they dug up several cellars and salvaged a number of household items. The list we found includes three mirrors, two hand-held and one full-size standing one.”
“Do we know what happened to the mirrors?” Jack asked.
“The Archaeological Museum in Oxford,” Andy said. “I’ve contacted them and explained the problem. Kathy has contacted her counterpart at the Bishop’s court there. The mirrors will be delivered to you as soon as the Bishop’s investigators can pack them. I warned them about looking.”
“Good. Keep looking for something, anything, we can use against him.” Tosh caught Gwen’s hesitation, as did Jack. “What is it, Gwen?”
“I was wondering… we Celts don’t have many stories of revenants, but those we do seem to say they can be controlled by symbols. Or the physical representation of symbols. Adam Kingsmark was a Catholic, and there’s no indication he died apostate…”
“Remind me to give you a raise, Gwen,” Jack said, blowing her a kiss. “Or at least a nice wedding present. “Ianto…”
“There’s a church near here. St. Giles, I think.”
“Go. Sullivan, I have some chalk in our kit. Until Ianto comes back we can make do. Tosh, let’s go to your room first. We’ll secure it and then you can go to sleep for a while. You look worn out.”
She started to deny it, but then nodded. “Yes. I’d like that.”
She led the way. When they got to her suite, Jack had her wait outside while he and Sullivan walked around the rooms. When she was finally allowed in, she saw that Jack had used white chalk to draw large, thick crosses on all the reflecting surfaces. The cheval mirror had been quartered and a cross drawn on each quarter. Then Jack replaced the blanket. He turned to Tosh. Taking what she realized was a rosary from his pocket, he put it over her head like a necklace.
“Don’t take this off. Between it and the crosses, you should protect you for now. Take a shower. I’ll send someone with a hot drink.” He kissed her forehead. “Come on, Sullivan. How many officers can you drag into this. Preferably Christians. Pagans can’t put any psychic strength behind these symbols, at least not a positive one.”
As they left, Sullivan was on the phone, barking orders. Setting the shower as hot as she could stand it, Tosh chucked off her clothes, tossing them in every direction, and stepped under the stream. She scrubbed her skin until it felt raw, but she couldn’t quite get the feel of Adam Kingsmark off. Finally she turned off the water and patted herself dry. Her skin was streaked red, and she knew if she left it like that she would bloom into bruises.
Sighing, she pulled some lotion out of her sponge bag and slathered herself with it. As she reached her neck, her hands encountered the rosary. It felt ancient under her fingers, and almost alive. She had the sense of great strength but also of great gentleness and an implacable will. The raised it to her lips and kissed the beads.
She padded into the bedroom in the nude. She didn’t want even one stitch of fabric between herself and her expensive cotton sheets. As she was starting to drift off, he heard a soft knock on the door.
“Miss Sato? Captain Harkness sent me. I have some hot chocolate, freshly made.”
Tosh sat up, holding the duvet in front of her to protect her modesty. “Come in.”
A tall, auburn-headed girl in the hotel’s uniform came in, carrying a silver tray with a tall mug and a plate of biscuits. She smiled at Tosh as she put the tray on the bedside table. She picked up the mug and held it out to Tosh.
“Hotel’s compliments, Miss. Our bartender has a nice sideline in hot drinks.”
“Thank you.”
Tosh accepted the mug and sipped. It really was good, sweet with a bitter aftertaste that was like almonds, but not quite. She smiled at the girl.
“Quite good,” she said
Suddenly she began to fold forward, head hanging heavy. Dizziness overwhelmed her. She felt the girl take the mug out of her hands and push her back into the bed. She managed to lift her eyelids enough to see the girl pull the blanket from the mirror and wipe off the crosses. She moaned in protest as Adam Kingsmark stepped into the room.
“Hello, Tosh.”
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Thanks for sharing this, it's a fantastic update. I really enjoy the details about the different traditions, and oh, Owen.
*hugs*
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More soon? Please?
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Owen is acting all sorts of strange. I hope he can get sorted out without too much pain.
I like the solution to trying to contain Adam and protect Tosh. Interesting idea that makes a lot of sense.
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Anyhow, good to know you are well enough to write!
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Until the next time, of course :D
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