Chapter 1
Eddie was sweating profusely, but trying not to drip on the aged paper. He dried his hands on the towel that was slung over his shoulder, before gently turning the page of Aristotle's Metaphysics with his fingertips. Late summers in Budapest can get blazingly hot, and Ezster's bookstore wasn't air-conditioned.
Texts were stacked floor to ceiling; not modern day bestsellers, but classics, sometimes ancient, one of a kind rare books from various cultures across the globe. The topics ranged from philosophy and history to the more esoteric like alchemy and the supernatural. Every book was a first edition, sometimes the singular remaining text of its kind.
When Eddie first happened upon Ezster's shop, he spent day after day, voraciously reading everything he could. After months of showing up each morning and spending entire days there, Ezster and Eddie became friends, and Ezster offered him a job.
Customers rarely came through the doors to purchase anything though, and Ezster couldn't offer Eddie payment in the form of money. Instead, she offered to tutor Eddie in any subject and language he desired, when she could spare the time, and full access to her shop, day or night.
In exchange, Eddie spent most of his days couriering packages around the city to Ezster's repeat customers, and reorganizing the books that he himself had read and accidentally misplaced on the shelves.
"Eddie, I need you to take this package to Mr. Fitzomar," Ezster called from her office. Her grammatical English was impeccable, despite a thick Hungarian accent.
"No problem," he called back before continuing to read. He was a young man, with light green eyes, a slight build and scruffy hair. Despite his age, his boyish face revealed his childish sense of wonder.
"What was that one Eddie?" she asked as she walked into the back room where he was sitting. Ezster was an older woman, short and stout, with rosy cheeks and a sunny disposition.
Eddie wiped his hands and set down his book. "Oh, uh, Aristotle," he rubbed the back of his neck. "It's written in classical Greek, so I'm not exactly sure I understood all of it. I Googled the parts that didn't make much sense. I believe it's about harnessing energy to convert potentiality into an actuality. I was just skimming through it though."
"Eddie, by just flipping through the pages, and using a translator, the knowledge won't sink in. You've got to learn how to read these great authors in their native languages, and stop relying on Google."
"I know, you keep telling me, and I'm trying. It's just that I haven't found the time to become an expert in all of these languages." He motioned across the bookshelves with his outstretched arm.
"You haven't found the time? All you have is time, young one. You work in a bookstore, organizing books that have not been touched for years." She smiled at him warmly.
"And delivering packages." Eddie returned her smile. "So, what am I delivering to Mr. Fitzomar this time?"
"I left it on the front counter, with the address on top."
"I'll get right on it."
His excursions as a delivery boy gave Eddie the opportunity to let his imagination run wild while he explored the historical city of Budapest. This time, he imagined that he was delivering an important time-sensitive document to a secret cabal, and that delivery of the book could help change the course of history.
Weaving in and out of back alleys and cutting through buildings, he pretended that the people he saw on the street were following him. When he finally arrived at his destination, he rang the apartment buzzer.
A elderly man's voice blared through the intercom in Hungarian. "Yes?"
"Mr. Fitzomar, it's Eddie. I have your book," said Eddie in broken Hungarian.
"Eddie?" asked the man in a perplexed tone.
Eddie leaned close to the intercom. "From Ezster's book shop," he said quietly. He was trying to be discreet, playing into the idea that someone could be following him.
"Ah, yes. I'll be right down," Mr. Fitzomar shouted.
Eddie winced and quickly pulled his head back from the speaker.
The street was mostly empty except for a few passing cars, so Eddie pressed his back against the side of the building and wrapped his arms around the package, holding it close to his chest as he waited for Mr. Fitzomar.
Several minutes later, the apartment building door opened, and Mr. Fitzomar, an elderly man in a wheelchair, rolled to the doorstep. Eddie walked over and handed Mr. Fitzomar his package.
Mr. Fitzomar had a large grin on his weathered face as he unwrapped the book. But, instead of a secret document that would help change the course of history, it was a copy of Abraham Lincoln's memoirs, which in fact, were history. Trying to conceal his disappointment, Eddie forced a grin before he saluted Mr. Fitzomar and went back to work.
When Eddie arrived at the store, he heard Ezster speaking with a young woman in her office. They were speaking in Hungarian and Eddie couldn't entirely understand what they were saying, but he could tell that they were in the middle of an argument.
Eddie approached quietly, and observed through Ezster's open door, as the young woman gestured to a book in her hand and then pointed to the store shelves.
Eszter shook her head, not approving of whatever proposal the woman was making.
After being rebuffed by Ezster a few more times, the young woman shook her head, and locked eyes with Eddie on her way out.
She had soft facial features, round cheeks, and a Mona Lisa smile. Her sweet smell swept Eddie away from the bookstore, and into a field of lilacs.
He was gushing. "Who was that?" he asked Ezster after the young woman had gone.
"That was nobody," Ezster replied, and closed her office door.
Later that afternoon, while he was musing on Aristotle's philosophies, Eddie was brought back to reality by the sound of shuffling books behind him. He turned and watched as a woman, hooded and draped in drab linens, was rummaging through the bookcase behind him.
She knocked books off of a shelf in an attempt to slide something between them, and when she knelt down to pick them up, Eddie saw that it was the young woman who had been arguing with Ezster earlier. Before he could offer to help, the woman picked up the books and replaced them before rushing out of the shop.
Eddie walked over and ran his hands across the book bindings, checking if anything was out of place. He had personally organized everything in the store, and it irked him when things weren't in perfect order.
When he came across a slight indentation, a misplaced book that he did not recognize, he pulled it from the shelf. As he opened it, a wall of smells hit his nose. It was like an amalgam of everyone's scent who had ever touched it.
The cover had no writing on it, no title, no publisher, and no author. On the first page was the title, Agon Animi, written in artistic script. The inner pages were handwritten in Latin.
After pages of densely written paragraphs, Eddie turned to a section of hand drawn illustrations depicting human figures posing, pushing what appeared to be waves of energy out of their hands.
The doorbell chimed, and Ezster called out: "Eddie, are you around, I need something delivered."
Startled, Eddie closed the tome. "I'll be right there." He put it into his satchel and headed to Ezster's office.
Chapter 2
Exhausted from walking through half of Pest, the more lively part of Budapest, delivering books, Eddie could barely keep on his feet. He didn't understand why Ezster didn't want him to use a car, or at least a bike, to get around the city, but it didn't matter, he didn't have the funds to get either anyway. When he got to his tiny, dingy studio above the axe tossing bar, he tossed his satchel down beside the front door, and collapsed onto his bed.
The night was just beginning, and the vibrations from loud thuds followed by raucous cheering beckoned Eddie to join in, to toss a few axes and chug a few beers, but he couldn't get his body to move. As his eyelids shut, the voices of drunken axe wielders slowly faded, and the face of the young woman whom he'd seen at Ezster's was all he could see.
His nostrils were filled with her intoxicating scent. He replayed his encounters with her over and over, trying to think of the right thing to say if he saw her again. A smile curled onto his face as he wrapped his arms tightly around his pillow and drifted to sleep.
In his dream, Eddie walked through a lush green field. Fluffy cumulus clouds peppered the Carolina blue sky. He smelled freshly mowed grass as he gently ran his hands across the soft tops of grass, feeling the bristles tickle his palms.
When he reached the edge of the dense grass, he stepped onto a deep black matte obsidian pathway, which led to a bright white building in the distance.
As he marched forward, the outline of the building became clear. Eddie paused, took a deep breath and surveyed the scene in front of him - it was a castle.
He gazed at the magnificently detailed architecture. Though it was small, only two stories high, it appeared to be carved out of a single piece of brilliant white marble. The entrance was an elaborately decorated deep brown oak door, twice as tall as Eddie was, and as wide as it was tall.
When he got halfway down the path, Eddie spotted a flash of light out of the corner of his eye. He spun his head to see from which window it was coming. It flashed again and he caught a glimpse of it coming from a first level corner window.
He watched the window, transfixed. The light was flashing in a pattern that he recognized, like a song that he had heard before, a rhythm which he knew, but couldn't name. He continued forward, towards the massive doorway, keeping his eyes on the flashing light coming from the window. As he moved closer, the flashes sped up, almost as if they were tracking his proximity.
The entrance was ajar, open just enough for him to slide through. To the left and right were long hallways with stone floors and archways. In front of him was a glorious marble staircase leading to the second level. Eddie climbed the stairs.
At the top, he walked through a small vestibule and into an ornate room with a high domed ceiling. In comparison, Eddie felt small and powerless. He trudged forward slowly towards a set of intricately designed wooden double doors at the far end of the room. The doors, like the gate of the castle were also ajar, beckoning him to enter.
The room was large and dimly lit. A small window at the far end provided barely enough light for Eddie to see the archways around him and the outline of a large chair, a few feet above the ground at the very back of the room. A cold sensation on his bare feet from the stone floor reminded him that he was someplace unfamiliar. Eddie composed himself and began walking forward into the darkness.
A glimmer of deep red, a red so dark it was almost indistinguishable from the black darkness, emerged from the back of the large room. As he squinted to make out what was in front of him, the red took the form of two eyes, staring back at him as intently as he stared at them.
"Wake up!" a voice boomed from all around him.
The red eyes and dark room quickly blurred and faded into a cavalcade of colors.
Eddie popped up in his bed. His heart was pounding and he was covered in sweat.
His friend Pietro was hovering over him with an axe in his hand, "it's game time!"
Chapter 3
Octavian caught a glimpse of a pulsating muted blue light, and he peeked his head inside the room that he was guarding. A crystal orb, no bigger than a tennis ball, was sitting atop a marble pedestal in the center of the room, illuminating the window and doorway. Next to the pedestal were two ostiums, circumscribed by fire, leading into pitch black.
The flashing light from the orb sped up and suddenly stopped.
"Did you notice that?" Octavian had deep-set bright eyes, a chiseled jaw, and stoic expression which made him look more like a male model than a henchman.
"Notice what?" With a perpetual frown, dark stubble, crew cut, and dark angry eyes, Jovan fit the bill of a henchman.
"The orb, it was flashing."
"So?" asked Jovan. He shook his head, he hadn't seen the light. "It flashes every time an imaginaut is nearby," Jovan said.
"I realize that, but did you see anyone come through this door?" As Octavian finished his sentence one final brief flash of light shot through the doorway and lit up the hall in front of the men.
Jovan peeked his head inside the room. "Ok. I saw the blinking, but I didn't see anyone," said Jovan, conceding the point.
"I have to tell her," said Octavian. He was hoping to get some respect from his boss and prove to Jovan that he was more than just a handsome face. When Octavian started at this post, Jovan had already been working there for some time. Octavian wanted nothing more than to impress his comrade and impress his master.
"Go right ahead," Jovan said as he shook his head again.
"Do you think it's a good idea? Do you think I should?"
"You ever heard of the boy who cried wolf? If you keep saying this but can't prove it, no one will ever believe you."
"But the orb is actually doing something, you saw it. There is a wolf. I've seen the thing flash several times now, man, and nobody came through."
"And what of it? Nothing ever happens when it flashes. Maybe someone came through their portal, changed their mind, and left. What do you get out of telling Maya?"
"There's a reason that she put us here, watching this thing."
"We're not here to watch this thing. We're here to guard the room, to make sure that whoever comes through these doors is an expected visitor." Jovan seemed perturbed with his younger coworker's disrespectful attitude.
"I mean, yeah, but there must be a reason that we're here." Octavian wanted so badly to prove himself. He wanted so badly to impress, that he was missing Jovan's point.
"There is, to protect Maya from any unwanted guests."
"All we ever do is stand here, waiting for something to happen, and now it has," said Octavian.
"Once the master is satisfied with your ability to handle this task, she will assign another."
"What do you mean?"
"There are others who serve Maya, some of whom call her 'mother', who have gone on to handle larger responsibilities for her."
"Why is this the first time you've mentioned this?"
"You never asked."
"OK, so, who were these people and what do they do now?"
"I worked with a guy, one of Maya's children, who had been here for a while before I started. I was told..." Jovan's eyes flashed around the hallway and back into the room. He lowered his voice so that only Octavian could hear him. "I was told that he became a spy, in the physical world, for our master."
"What?!"
"Keep it down!"
"So, there is a way to move up!"
"There is, but you have to pay your dues."
"I've paid my dues, I'm going to tell Maya about this." Octavian wanted to take this status update to their lord in person. He glowered at Jovan, took a deep breath, ready to prove his worth, and began running down the hallway towards his master's throne room.
"It's your funeral," Jovan mumbled to himself, shaking his head.
Octavian ran down the stone corridor, up the stairs, and into the main foyer. He gingerly approached Maya's throne room. The footsteps from his heavy boots echoed around the high ceilings and stone walls. He tried to catch his breath and calm his nerves, it wasn't working. Octavian had never had a personal encounter with, nor had he ever seen his lord in the flesh.
He slowly approached the wooden double doors leading to Maya's throne room. Octavian ran his hands across the elaborate designs carved into the wood. His fingers gently slid across the grooves of wavy lines coming from the carving of a human figure. In the center, spanning the midpoint of both doors was a large oval, a gate, encircled by flames. Octavian placed his palm on the oval, admiring the workmanship.
"Enter!" boomed a voice from behind the doors.
Octavian pushed and the heavy double doors slowly opened inward. At the back of the room, shrouded in darkness, sitting on an elaborate throne, upon a dais, was a dark figure. Illuminating her visage was a single worn down candle, flickering, casting shadows onto her features. She was wearing a dark cloak with a large hood covering her head and much of her face.
Octavian was still out of breath from running, and he walked slowly across the stone floor of the large room, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground. When he approached the throne he knelt out of respect. "Lord Maya," he said obsequiously, still facing the ground, "it registered activity, but no one came through the door." He composed himself and continued between breaths, "this is not the first time."
The woman cocked her head. From beneath her hood, strands of long white hair cascaded onto her shoulder. She glared at the young man in front of her, trying to discern why he had bothered her. She tapped her bony fingers on the arm of her chair, quietly scrutinizing her servant. The silence almost broke Octavian, he couldn't decide if he had said something wrong or if he needed to say more.
"And just what do you think this means?" asked the cloaked woman, authoritatively.
"Apollyon? Where is our lord?"
"Never you mind. So, if no one came through the doors, then what caused the orb to react?"
"I… I think someone must have been here. They must have gotten here another way."
"So?"
"So Maya could be in danger, I have to tell her."
"Don't you worry, I'll make sure she knows what she needs to know." Out of the darkness, Apollyon's eyes began to conflagrate, bursting into a burning red.