Blood of Solomon: Awakening pt 1

Langston

Speeding down Lincoln Drive, windows down, radio blaring, passing vehicles too skittish to drive the winding road.

*Phone Rings*

“Yeah Ma.” Langston answers, lowering the volume of the radio as he passes a sitting patrol vehicle. It was too soon a glance, but the officer looked as if he were about to follow and possibly ticket him.

“Slow down boy… driving like a bat outta hell. You know better.”

Langston laughs, one of his grandmother’s uncanny gifts is knowing exactly where he was, what he was doing, and how he went about doing it.

“I can’t Ma.” He answers, checking the rear view mirror for any police lights. “I’m already late for wor-.”

“This is important Langston.” She insists. “It’s about your father.”

Those very words nearly sent Langston in a deadly swerve into the rock-wall that hugged the expressway. His Father… Words rarely spoken to the 21 year old man in his entire life, and almost never in the past 11 years. His mind seemed to have fogged on automatic as the car slowed and pulled off the winding road onto a cobble covered side street lined with misty green trees and large colonial houses. The patrol car passed him, forcing other drivers to the yield as it blared its lights and sirens down the expressway.

“Who?” Langston answered… For sure, he thought for one wild moment, she’d misspoke.

“Your father, baby.” He died just last week. “It’s time you remember... come home, we need to talk.”

“I can’t Ma…” He echoed dully, still riled with disbelief. “Work...”

“Now.” She spoke with that tone of finality that he recognized all too well, and marked the edge of her patience before ending the call.

Reluctantly, Langston put the car in gear and drove with much more care as his brain vomited a flurry of bitter thoughts he’d suppressed over the past decade. As far as he knew, he was an orphan. His mother, a young but powerful witch, died during childbirth and left him to be raised by her mother. A formidable witch of a woman known throughout the northeast region of the country. She’d raised Langston with the full knowledge of his maternal birth right and traditions, without so much as a passing remark of his father’s nature. Unless of course, she spoke out of anger without thinking.

“Oh, I’m Sorry…” She’d say whenever she spoke of the ‘Demon that took her daughter’ and saw the shock on a young Langston’s face. “I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.” She’d reaffirm her love with a kiss to his forehead before sending him along to be alone with her thoughts.

Though she raised him in her craft, teaching him the value of herbs and words of power. At rare times she even allowed him to assist in a special brew for one of her clients. She’d never actually let him cast any magic of his own, for fear of his “Chaotic” magic causing more damage than good. He’d never been allowed to any of the solstice gatherings that she hosted. Somehow, he’d only remember sleeping through every Sabbat. Though as the “Crone of the Northeast”, she’d never allow any of the Mallory Line to be unschooled in magic. Langston would remember when visitors came in the dark of the night in need of assistance, or a brew from her apothecary. How even she toed the line of darkness and light without conscience.

“We have always been formidable.” She’d say to him and his cousins as they sat in a semicircle at the foot of her rocking chair where she spun dreamcatchers and other charms and told her stories. “Sometimes Famous, others… Infamous. We, the Grey Witches of the North have always held the Balance. It is the charge of our blood.”

Though this is different. Now, after a lifetime… I get to learn about the other half of who I am. Langston thought as he pulled into the old plantation house off the cobbled road.

His family has lived in this house since the late 17000's when an ancestor tricked ownership from the master who foolishly thought her to be just another slave. For once the gag, and chains were removed from her wrists, she drew power from the realm of the dead and cast a glamour so powerful that only those with an invitation could find the house. Thus marking her and all the slaves of the residence safe and establishing this home as one of the first safehouses that birthed the underground railroad.

“Ma!” He called, entering in through the greenhouse built into the back porch off of the kitchen. Though he needn’t have called, there she sat at the small circular table of ornate glass with her favorite tea set and a plate of cookies waiting for him. She was a petite woman, even in her early years, garbed in one of her usual black floral dresses . The woman before Langston appeared to be as old as time itself, yet it’s her dark sharp eyes beneath her silver hair that betrayed the ferocity stirring within her wizened form. She reached out her severely lined brown hands to take her grandson’s as she urged him to sit.

“Sit down baby.” She smiled in her sweet voice. She was in what Langston recognized as her ‘Mother Mode’ or ‘Wise Woman’ demeanor... much more preferable to the ‘Wicked Witch’ she invoked when Shit needs to get done.

“What’s up?” Langston asked curtly, grabbing one of his favorite sugar cookies from the plate when they released hands. She shot him a warning glare that clearly said, ‘I’m not one of your little friends’, as she poured him a cup. He smiled knowing she wouldn’t keep the coddle up for much longer.

“There isn’t much I will tell you about your father or his… Family.” She spoke the last word carefully. Langston raised his brow, but waited for her to continue, which she appreciated. She always taught him to listen carefully, and speak only when necessary, for: ‘words are power and shouldn’t be thrown about carelessly’. She’d barb at him often over the years.

“It would be better and more fair for you to learn from them. However, now you are about to consciously enter into the realm of The Factions.”

“Factions…?” Langston asked as he sipped his tea. Cadence waited for him to swallow before continuing.

“Yes,” she answered. “You’ll be remembering slowly, but for now… you’ve only been privy to the realm of the Witches. I’ve taught you our history and crafts, though, for the bulk of your childhood. I’ve had to keep close rein of the information you’ve retained over the years.”

As she spoke, a faded memory flashed across his mind. That of a dark figure bursting into a column of flame above his head… A memory he didn’t remember having that morning.

“You mean…” He began, “Like... the wraith?” Langston asked as the being’s name came to him.

“Yes… Finish your tea,” She added pointedly. Langston nodded and took another sip. “You are a unique child of our line. You are one of 3 brothers promised to be reborn into each of the human factions. The Oracles, the Elemists, and us, the Ase. Or, in modern terms, Witches.” She took a breath as Langston continued to silently absorb her words along with his tea. Every word she spoke sparked new connections in his memory as a light began unraveling in his mind.

“You remember… the rumors?” she asked, sending a thrill through Langston. “The B-”

“Beast...” Langston nodded hotly as he remembered that he was a parriah to his own people. “They say she willingly gave herself to a… a monster. That my blood is... unclean.” Langston shook the memories flooding back to him.

“A controversial birth it was, and though you are of Ase, you do not completely belong to us. Because of that, you are not strictly bound in blood to our ways.” She paused as Langston drained his cup.

“In this, I had to keep safe our legacy. In the coming days, you will begin to remember the full extent of your power, and the charge of your creation…”

“So all these years…” Langston began as he sat his teacup upon the table and noted that his grandmother hadn’t even poured herself one. “You’ve kept me bound from my magic? How?”

“Memory.” She nodded. “Now that your father has returned to the realm of the dead. It is time for you to wake up and embrace your inheritance.”

“But… I thought all Ase drew power from the Aether?” Langston asked. “That’s the most pure source of energy in the Omniverse. Even more pure than nature, it consciously links us to our divine sparks, and transcends the mortal coil. It-”

Langston stopped. Shocked at the information spewing from his lips. Words he also had no memory of before that morning. Cadence Mallory wore a pleased expression that brightened her wizened features. Langston poured himself another cup.

“Did you hex the tea, or the cookies?” He asked, doing his best to keep the edge from his voice, despite the irritation he felt at being a victim of her infamous ‘Dunce’ magic. In Witch tradition one always respected the elders and ancestors. Or run the risk of being betrayed by his own ase.

“Both.” She nodded with a smile. “Don’t you remember helping me make the last batch?”

“I do now.” Langston muttered through a mouthful of cookie before draining it with a cup of warm tea. His mind itched with the recovery of new memories, a necessary discomfort that didn't help the state of his anger. “So… Why am I really here then?”

“I’m glad you asked.” Cadence smiled, her voice bare of coddle. “You are to attend your Father’s funeral-”

“I will not!”

“Oh yes you will!” She commanded. “You must know your entire self. I insist!”

“Really?” Langston smirked. “You’re the most proud Ase I know. Why are you so determined for me to mingle my magic with other factions?”

“Because,” Cadence began, “Though your brothers are of other factions. The three of you hold legacy in your veins that are beyond any of the Human Factions.”

“Okay… but all that’s left are the Intangibles, Beastial, and the Mortal, besides the Infernal factions.”

“No… there is one other.” Cadence admitted. “One we don’t speak of. The Thirteenth Faction. IF it can even be called that… The Primordials.”

“But those are legends. Something we all told ourselves for aeons to quantify magic and energy.” Langston shook his head. “Gods and Titans don’t exist.”

“That’s for you to find out.” Cadence commanded. “You will find your brothers. Learn the secrets of your blood without divulging the secrets of our faction to the others.” To this, Langston squirmed.

“And then what?” He asked sharply. “I know the Gnostics barely accepted my birth. I’m not foolish enough to share the secrets of Ase, but I refuse to be their spy.”

“Good.” Cadence nodded sharply. “You are a Mallory Witch. We bend to no power but our own.” Langston noted the sincerity in her voice. “Though you may be the most powerful Ase in our line, it won’t matter if you refuse to know Thyself! Your mother sacrificed her life in service to the very spark of creation. You will live your legacy.”

“There is trouble brewing…” She continued, “Not far from here an Ase was overpowered and murdered. She was a guardian of a long hidden totem. Once the Mortals finish their investigations, we shall scry the area ourselves. It’s time for you to officially join the Faction.”

Langston Nodded, “Ase”