I'm afraid that this post is little more than a rant poorly disguised as the reason chapter 7 will not be turning up very soon.
I worked on it. I worked on it in my free period this afternoon at school and also this evening, accomplishing about a page and a half, if not more.
And then I tried to save it onto my memory stick as I usually do, quite normally, and it decided to mess me around and now the whole file on my memory stick has imploded and is gone and the file on my computer proper only goes up to chapter 2 (I really should backup more often). I was reduced to coming on here and copy-and-pasting chapters three, four, five and six onto Word (thank goodness I post as I finish a chapter, huh?).
So now I have to rewrite Chapter 7.
Once I have got over my intense, burning frustration (I have to write out how to introduce yourself to a horse AGAIN?), I will probably use this opportunity as a chance to make it BETTER! and more INTERESTING! and that sort of thing.
That or I'll throw things and you'll get a filler chapter of pretty awful quality because I'm just so damn frustrated. And it was going to be an important chapter and everything. Or at least a bit important.
...Many apologies. =3
--Kitty
ps. I loathe computers
Monday 26 January 2009
Thursday 22 January 2009
Chapter Six- Meetings and Discoveries
What was what turned out to be a lot of buildings in a mishmash of architectural styles that he didn’t dare try the doors to, for fear of getting shouted at by someone threatening with one of the weapons that seemed to be everywhere. Eventually, he managed to find his way back to the zoo; seizing upon something that was mildly familiar, he ducked inside with a feeling of immense relief.
The unicorn was still in its paddock, grazing quietly. It raised its head with suspicion when it heard Theo enter and subjected him to a long, assessing look; eventually its nostrils flared, it shook its mane and went back to grazing. Rather gratified that he was no longer viewed as a threat, Theo leaned on the fence and spent some time gazing at the beautiful creature. It was such a delicate, elegant, gorgeous thing it seemed almost impossible that it could exist without having world-wide fan clubs. But then, he mused, it essentially did have world-wide fan clubs; anyone who read fantasy stories was bound to meet unicorns eventually and develop a fondness. It was just a pity they believed the animals didn’t exist in reality.
After a while, aware that he’d just wasted a considerable amount of time, he reluctantly pushed himself away from the fence and wandered off again. He thought he might go and see Socrates; but when he got round to the Jackalope hutches there was already someone there, sitting inside the pen. Reluctant to intrude, Theo lurked uncomfortably a little way away and observed the figure, which was female and possessed black hair and an enviable slimness of figure. Theo, who was aware of having gained weight since he stopped regularly playing rugby, wrinkled his nose, shoved his hands in his pockets, decided to stop being so stupid, and sauntered with slightly exaggerated casualness over towards the pen.
The girl heard his approach and looked up, and for an instant in her eyes there was the same deep suspicion the unicorn had viewed him with. It was quickly eclipsed by empty politeness, and she looked away, back down to the Jackalope lying in her lap. Theo stood outside the fence and looked in, and there was a lengthy period of uncomfortable silence.
Eventually he said “Hello.”
“Hello,” the girl responded, looking back up. She had a nice face, in which European and Middle Eastern mixed; her skin was lightly tawny and her eyes dark brown with long soft lashes. But it was also a face that was closed and locked and did not want to open, and Theo found it rather intimidating.
The silence came back. Theo shifted, cleared his throat and scratched his nose, and then with some relief saw Socrates lope lazily towards him from inside the main hutch. He knelt and pushed his fingers through the mesh; the Jackalope sniffed at them, apparently approved, and rubbed his cheek against them. The girl watched them both silently; Theo offered a slightly embarrassed grin.
“I like rabbits,” he said, inadequately. “This one is called Socrates, right?”
“Yes.” There was a little surprise in her tone, as if not many people knew of the nickname. “Who told you that?”
“Uh, Mr Adfair.”
For a second there was a smile on the girl’s face. “He’d know. Mr Adfair is good about things like that.”
“Uh, yeah…Decent boss, huh?” Theo joked lamely. The girl looked at him.
“The best,” she answered, without a flicker of irony, and went back to stroking the Jackalope in her lap. There was a pause, and then she looked up again.
“I haven’t seen you around. Are you new?”
“Yeah,” Theo admitted ruefully. “Only joined a coupla days ago. My name’s Theodore Hunt…but most people call me Theo.”
“Welcome to the Society, then,” the girl said politely. “My name is Sashi Kasa.”
Blinking a little, Theo suddenly grinned.
“Uh, nice to meet you. I think we’re sharing a flat.”
Sashi looked at him with the tiniest flicker of alarm, then raised one shoulder in a half-shrug.
“They didn’t tell me I’d be sharing my room…”
“Oh no, they didn’t? I’m, uh, sorry…I don’t want to intrude.”
The other shoulder came up as well this time.
“It’s fine. Everyone else shares, I don’t know why I should be the exception.”
She looked down at Socrates, who had his eyes half-closed in ecstasy as Theo absently scratched him under the chin. This evidently counted for something, because she rubbed her cheek and said “You can come in the pen if you like. There’s a little door in the fence.”
Surprised, Theo stood up and located the door, stepping through. Immediately several Jackalope swarmed towards him and sniffed his shoes curiously; moving carefully to avoid treading on anyone, he picked his way across and cautiously sat beside Sashi. Socrates immediately came over and claimed his lap, demanding more attention. Theo obliged, and there was quiet again; this time, however, it was a slightly more companionable silence, thawing around the edges. Theo decided to see if he could thaw it a little more with conversation.
“So, uh, you look after these guys?”
“Mmhm.”
“That must be, uh, nice.”
“I enjoy it.”
“Do they all have names, or is it just Socrates?”
Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye as though surprised he would care, Sashi began pointing out notable Jackalope. There was a big old female called Mrs. Lenin, apparently because she had a moustache; a young female called Jezebel because she had all the morals of a radish; a male known as Bluebeard because he kept stealing things from the others, two males from the same litter called Bill and Ben because they were essentially identical, and many others. She seemed almost to view them as her children, and they evidently adored her; she petted and scratched them all while he was there, and became far more relaxed, almost to the point of laughter.
“So,” Theo asked a little later, making friends with a Jackalope dubbed Calypso for her habit of hiding her litters away in awkward places. “Do you look after anything else in the zoo here or is it just the Jackalope?”
She gave a twitch of a smile. “I’m basically sole keeper of almost everything here. Jackalope, the Basan, the Hellhounds…The people who use them for hunting are supposed to look after theirs, but most of them leave a lot of it to me. Mr Ahern-the horsemaster-he looks after the unicorn and the pegasi, but I do that too if he’s not around.”
“That must be an awful lot of work.”
“Oh, I enjoy it; better than some jobs I guess. I like the animals and I, uh, don’t much like the people…so it suits me fine.”
As though she had suddenly decided she was talking far too much, Sashi let her head drop so her hair covered her face, and did some serious fussing of Bluebeard’s ears. Theo, however, was not about to let her clam up. He liked her, and more to the point she was the only person in the Society aside from Rowena and Mr Adfair he actually knew the name of.
“So, will you show me around more of the zoo? I’d like to know more about all the…mythical creatures and stuff.”
She glanced across at him again and nearly smiled.
“All right then.”
Theo spent most of the rest of the morning getting an in-depth tour of the zoo. He learned that practically every single creature that resided in it had been given a name, and what those names were (although he knew he’d never be able to remember them as well as Sashi did; she seemed to have encyclopaedic memory when it came to her animal charges); the correct care of fire-breathing chickens and what was necessary wear for handling them (and also that they weren’t nearly as dignified as they pretended) and that many of the hellhounds could only be approached safely if you were wearing a full suit of plate armour.
It was while they were playing with the safe ones that she offered, rather shyly, to make him lunch.
“I mean, since we have to share a flat and everything,” she said with deep discomfort, looking anywhere but at him. “You can, um, cook for me tomorrow.”
“Uh, sure, cool,” Theo accepted, also rather uncomfortable. In an effort to lighten the mood, he added “But the last time I cooked I set the salad on fire!”
Sashi gave a little laugh, fondling all three sets of a hellhound’s ears at once, then cleared her throat and got to her feet.
“Come on then…”
The state of the kitchen proved to be a source of some embarrassment once they got back to the flat, prompting some awkward apologies from Sashi and some equally awkward offers to help clean up from Theo which were of course refused, she was acting as host for the moment, it was her mess, she’d clean up after she’d cooked…
Eventually they compromised, with Sashi beginning the cooking while Theo wiped up the surfaces and filled the saucepan with water in an attempt to soak off the tomato pasta sauce that had stuck to the inside like glue.
His new room-mate turned out to cook very fast and rather haphazardly. She was making, apparently, vegetable curry; Theo could only watch in wonder as she sliced peppers with such speed that her fingertips seemed in constant danger and, despite occasionally referring to a very battered recipe book, tossed in spices and curry powder with gay abandon, including adding Tabasco sauce to the rice.
The result, of course, was delicious.
“Where’d you learn to cook like this?” Theo asked, helping himself to thirds. Sashi blushed a bit.
“My mother hates cooking so we only used to get quick stuff like pizza and chips…but once she’d forgotten to get a birthday cake for my little brother so I decided to make one. Uh…turned out I had a talent.”
“It’s a great talent,” said Theo, with his mouth full. Smiling rather embarrassedly, Sashi shrugged.
“Maybe,” she said, and stood up abruptly with her plate, crossing to the sink and beginning to wash up with fierce concentration.
After lunch, she declined his hopeful request for her to show him around the museums, saying instead that she needed to muck out the pegasi. She did point out the buildings they were housed in, though, and told him that no-one would care if he accidentally trespassed somewhere because he was new.
Then she left him to his own devices, hurrying away in the direction of the zoo without looking back. It made Theo feel a little abandoned.
The main theme of the Society’s museums seemed to be myths, legends, stuffed mythical creatures and weapons. Theo learnt rather a lot about the beasts the Society was protecting humanity from in that afternoon, and also rather a lot about the Society’s history. It had been founded in the sixteenth century, as the explorers of that era discovered more and more new lands and new creatures. Not much, apparently, was known of the early days, save that the Society once formed did its best to convince the general populace that mythical creatures were fabrications and merely old stories and apparently succeeded. The Society spread over the world along with the explorers and by the end of the seventeenth century there were groups all over the planet, most of which had been maintained and still existed. But there were many gaps and vague inconsistencies in the accounts which left Theo more confused than enlightened; no-one seemed to know who exactly had created the Society in the first place, or who had led it before Mr Adfair took control.
The museum curator, when enquired of, was less than helpful.
“Everyone asks that stuff when they join,” he said, leaning on his desk. “But no-one knows. There’s a massive library-it’s just through that door and round the corner if you want to look-but there’s only a few fragments remaining of the Society’s historical records. It’s like someone went through and systematically destroyed them.”
“Did someone?”
The curator laughed. “How would we know? They destroyed the records!”
The museums proved to be far more absorbing than Theo had expected them to be, and a subsequent glance at his watch proved shocking. It was already half-past seven, and he’d promised to cook dinner for Sashi. It was even later by the time he’d actually got back to the flat, because in his hurry he’d taken quite a few inadvertent wrong turnings and had had to be pointed on his way eventually by a young woman carrying a bundle of Samurai swords.
Sashi was watching television, curled in a corner of the sofa. Her initial reaction to his entry was brief confusion, as though she’d forgotten he was now sharing her accommodation, and then something that got close to reproach when she recalled his identity and promise.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” he apologised. “I really am, I lost track of time and then I got lost…”
She sighed and shrugged, and the smiled a little.
“Doesn’t matter. Are you still cooking?”
“If I can,” he said cheerfully. “Any preferences?”
Propping her chin on her knees, she looked thoughtful, and then her smile widened, getting as close to a teasing grin as he’d ever seen on her normally sober face.
“I’ll get some ingredients out and we’ll see what you can make of them…mister burnt salad.”
Theo tossed off a quick salute.
“Whatever you say, mistress of the kitchen.”
The unicorn was still in its paddock, grazing quietly. It raised its head with suspicion when it heard Theo enter and subjected him to a long, assessing look; eventually its nostrils flared, it shook its mane and went back to grazing. Rather gratified that he was no longer viewed as a threat, Theo leaned on the fence and spent some time gazing at the beautiful creature. It was such a delicate, elegant, gorgeous thing it seemed almost impossible that it could exist without having world-wide fan clubs. But then, he mused, it essentially did have world-wide fan clubs; anyone who read fantasy stories was bound to meet unicorns eventually and develop a fondness. It was just a pity they believed the animals didn’t exist in reality.
After a while, aware that he’d just wasted a considerable amount of time, he reluctantly pushed himself away from the fence and wandered off again. He thought he might go and see Socrates; but when he got round to the Jackalope hutches there was already someone there, sitting inside the pen. Reluctant to intrude, Theo lurked uncomfortably a little way away and observed the figure, which was female and possessed black hair and an enviable slimness of figure. Theo, who was aware of having gained weight since he stopped regularly playing rugby, wrinkled his nose, shoved his hands in his pockets, decided to stop being so stupid, and sauntered with slightly exaggerated casualness over towards the pen.
The girl heard his approach and looked up, and for an instant in her eyes there was the same deep suspicion the unicorn had viewed him with. It was quickly eclipsed by empty politeness, and she looked away, back down to the Jackalope lying in her lap. Theo stood outside the fence and looked in, and there was a lengthy period of uncomfortable silence.
Eventually he said “Hello.”
“Hello,” the girl responded, looking back up. She had a nice face, in which European and Middle Eastern mixed; her skin was lightly tawny and her eyes dark brown with long soft lashes. But it was also a face that was closed and locked and did not want to open, and Theo found it rather intimidating.
The silence came back. Theo shifted, cleared his throat and scratched his nose, and then with some relief saw Socrates lope lazily towards him from inside the main hutch. He knelt and pushed his fingers through the mesh; the Jackalope sniffed at them, apparently approved, and rubbed his cheek against them. The girl watched them both silently; Theo offered a slightly embarrassed grin.
“I like rabbits,” he said, inadequately. “This one is called Socrates, right?”
“Yes.” There was a little surprise in her tone, as if not many people knew of the nickname. “Who told you that?”
“Uh, Mr Adfair.”
For a second there was a smile on the girl’s face. “He’d know. Mr Adfair is good about things like that.”
“Uh, yeah…Decent boss, huh?” Theo joked lamely. The girl looked at him.
“The best,” she answered, without a flicker of irony, and went back to stroking the Jackalope in her lap. There was a pause, and then she looked up again.
“I haven’t seen you around. Are you new?”
“Yeah,” Theo admitted ruefully. “Only joined a coupla days ago. My name’s Theodore Hunt…but most people call me Theo.”
“Welcome to the Society, then,” the girl said politely. “My name is Sashi Kasa.”
Blinking a little, Theo suddenly grinned.
“Uh, nice to meet you. I think we’re sharing a flat.”
Sashi looked at him with the tiniest flicker of alarm, then raised one shoulder in a half-shrug.
“They didn’t tell me I’d be sharing my room…”
“Oh no, they didn’t? I’m, uh, sorry…I don’t want to intrude.”
The other shoulder came up as well this time.
“It’s fine. Everyone else shares, I don’t know why I should be the exception.”
She looked down at Socrates, who had his eyes half-closed in ecstasy as Theo absently scratched him under the chin. This evidently counted for something, because she rubbed her cheek and said “You can come in the pen if you like. There’s a little door in the fence.”
Surprised, Theo stood up and located the door, stepping through. Immediately several Jackalope swarmed towards him and sniffed his shoes curiously; moving carefully to avoid treading on anyone, he picked his way across and cautiously sat beside Sashi. Socrates immediately came over and claimed his lap, demanding more attention. Theo obliged, and there was quiet again; this time, however, it was a slightly more companionable silence, thawing around the edges. Theo decided to see if he could thaw it a little more with conversation.
“So, uh, you look after these guys?”
“Mmhm.”
“That must be, uh, nice.”
“I enjoy it.”
“Do they all have names, or is it just Socrates?”
Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye as though surprised he would care, Sashi began pointing out notable Jackalope. There was a big old female called Mrs. Lenin, apparently because she had a moustache; a young female called Jezebel because she had all the morals of a radish; a male known as Bluebeard because he kept stealing things from the others, two males from the same litter called Bill and Ben because they were essentially identical, and many others. She seemed almost to view them as her children, and they evidently adored her; she petted and scratched them all while he was there, and became far more relaxed, almost to the point of laughter.
“So,” Theo asked a little later, making friends with a Jackalope dubbed Calypso for her habit of hiding her litters away in awkward places. “Do you look after anything else in the zoo here or is it just the Jackalope?”
She gave a twitch of a smile. “I’m basically sole keeper of almost everything here. Jackalope, the Basan, the Hellhounds…The people who use them for hunting are supposed to look after theirs, but most of them leave a lot of it to me. Mr Ahern-the horsemaster-he looks after the unicorn and the pegasi, but I do that too if he’s not around.”
“That must be an awful lot of work.”
“Oh, I enjoy it; better than some jobs I guess. I like the animals and I, uh, don’t much like the people…so it suits me fine.”
As though she had suddenly decided she was talking far too much, Sashi let her head drop so her hair covered her face, and did some serious fussing of Bluebeard’s ears. Theo, however, was not about to let her clam up. He liked her, and more to the point she was the only person in the Society aside from Rowena and Mr Adfair he actually knew the name of.
“So, will you show me around more of the zoo? I’d like to know more about all the…mythical creatures and stuff.”
She glanced across at him again and nearly smiled.
“All right then.”
Theo spent most of the rest of the morning getting an in-depth tour of the zoo. He learned that practically every single creature that resided in it had been given a name, and what those names were (although he knew he’d never be able to remember them as well as Sashi did; she seemed to have encyclopaedic memory when it came to her animal charges); the correct care of fire-breathing chickens and what was necessary wear for handling them (and also that they weren’t nearly as dignified as they pretended) and that many of the hellhounds could only be approached safely if you were wearing a full suit of plate armour.
It was while they were playing with the safe ones that she offered, rather shyly, to make him lunch.
“I mean, since we have to share a flat and everything,” she said with deep discomfort, looking anywhere but at him. “You can, um, cook for me tomorrow.”
“Uh, sure, cool,” Theo accepted, also rather uncomfortable. In an effort to lighten the mood, he added “But the last time I cooked I set the salad on fire!”
Sashi gave a little laugh, fondling all three sets of a hellhound’s ears at once, then cleared her throat and got to her feet.
“Come on then…”
The state of the kitchen proved to be a source of some embarrassment once they got back to the flat, prompting some awkward apologies from Sashi and some equally awkward offers to help clean up from Theo which were of course refused, she was acting as host for the moment, it was her mess, she’d clean up after she’d cooked…
Eventually they compromised, with Sashi beginning the cooking while Theo wiped up the surfaces and filled the saucepan with water in an attempt to soak off the tomato pasta sauce that had stuck to the inside like glue.
His new room-mate turned out to cook very fast and rather haphazardly. She was making, apparently, vegetable curry; Theo could only watch in wonder as she sliced peppers with such speed that her fingertips seemed in constant danger and, despite occasionally referring to a very battered recipe book, tossed in spices and curry powder with gay abandon, including adding Tabasco sauce to the rice.
The result, of course, was delicious.
“Where’d you learn to cook like this?” Theo asked, helping himself to thirds. Sashi blushed a bit.
“My mother hates cooking so we only used to get quick stuff like pizza and chips…but once she’d forgotten to get a birthday cake for my little brother so I decided to make one. Uh…turned out I had a talent.”
“It’s a great talent,” said Theo, with his mouth full. Smiling rather embarrassedly, Sashi shrugged.
“Maybe,” she said, and stood up abruptly with her plate, crossing to the sink and beginning to wash up with fierce concentration.
After lunch, she declined his hopeful request for her to show him around the museums, saying instead that she needed to muck out the pegasi. She did point out the buildings they were housed in, though, and told him that no-one would care if he accidentally trespassed somewhere because he was new.
Then she left him to his own devices, hurrying away in the direction of the zoo without looking back. It made Theo feel a little abandoned.
The main theme of the Society’s museums seemed to be myths, legends, stuffed mythical creatures and weapons. Theo learnt rather a lot about the beasts the Society was protecting humanity from in that afternoon, and also rather a lot about the Society’s history. It had been founded in the sixteenth century, as the explorers of that era discovered more and more new lands and new creatures. Not much, apparently, was known of the early days, save that the Society once formed did its best to convince the general populace that mythical creatures were fabrications and merely old stories and apparently succeeded. The Society spread over the world along with the explorers and by the end of the seventeenth century there were groups all over the planet, most of which had been maintained and still existed. But there were many gaps and vague inconsistencies in the accounts which left Theo more confused than enlightened; no-one seemed to know who exactly had created the Society in the first place, or who had led it before Mr Adfair took control.
The museum curator, when enquired of, was less than helpful.
“Everyone asks that stuff when they join,” he said, leaning on his desk. “But no-one knows. There’s a massive library-it’s just through that door and round the corner if you want to look-but there’s only a few fragments remaining of the Society’s historical records. It’s like someone went through and systematically destroyed them.”
“Did someone?”
The curator laughed. “How would we know? They destroyed the records!”
The museums proved to be far more absorbing than Theo had expected them to be, and a subsequent glance at his watch proved shocking. It was already half-past seven, and he’d promised to cook dinner for Sashi. It was even later by the time he’d actually got back to the flat, because in his hurry he’d taken quite a few inadvertent wrong turnings and had had to be pointed on his way eventually by a young woman carrying a bundle of Samurai swords.
Sashi was watching television, curled in a corner of the sofa. Her initial reaction to his entry was brief confusion, as though she’d forgotten he was now sharing her accommodation, and then something that got close to reproach when she recalled his identity and promise.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” he apologised. “I really am, I lost track of time and then I got lost…”
She sighed and shrugged, and the smiled a little.
“Doesn’t matter. Are you still cooking?”
“If I can,” he said cheerfully. “Any preferences?”
Propping her chin on her knees, she looked thoughtful, and then her smile widened, getting as close to a teasing grin as he’d ever seen on her normally sober face.
“I’ll get some ingredients out and we’ll see what you can make of them…mister burnt salad.”
Theo tossed off a quick salute.
“Whatever you say, mistress of the kitchen.”
Sunday 18 January 2009
Chapter Five: Scene-setting
-Note...this chapter is shorter than it would have been, because otherwise you wouldn't get it for at least another week...if not longer.
---
His mother picked him up outside the station, and he was mildly surprised to find out that it had only been three or four hours since he had gone in.
“Well?” his mother said expectantly, glancing across at him. “How did it go?”
Theo, who had been staring out the window and turning his experiences over in his mind, jerked back to reality and grinned.
“Better than I thought. I have a position, and they’ve even offered me free accommodation.”
It was standard practice for new recruits, Mr Adfair had told him, so they could easily be trained and also weren’t likely to get overexcited and blurt things out that no-one outside the Society needed to know. He’d have a sizeable suite of rooms, apparently, although he’d have to share the living room, bathroom and kitchen with someone else.
Mrs Hunt looked a little startled at the news that her only son would be leaving the nest so suddenly after showing slightly less than no inclination to do so previously.
“So you’ll be moving out, huh? See, I told you this exercise was profitable! How soon will you be taking up your position?”
“As soon as I like, they said. Which I guess means as soon as I can pack up all my stuff and move.”
“Well! This is all very sudden, but I’m pleased for you, love. Your father will be pleased as well.”
“Hah,” was Theo’s only answer to that. His father had been telling him to pack up and leave for some time now, disguising it in jovial enquiries about when he’d be getting a girlfriend and setting up a home with her. Mr Hunt liked to think these things were amusing, but they’d been grating on his son since the second repetition.
A thought seemed to strike his mother.
“What does this ‘MyHunt Society’ do, anyway? I don’t believe I’ve heard of it.”
Theo stiffened and thanked his lucky stars he’d been briefed.
“Oh, um, it’s about environmental protection and stuff…you know…conservation,” he said as casually as he could manage. His mother blinked, then shrugged.
“Well, you always have been good at science,” she said happily. She liked to believe this, although it was evident to most other people that Theo’s scientific skills were quite solidly grounded in the ‘average’ compartment. “So what does your new job entail, exactly?”
“Uh, well, I’ll probably be doing quite a bit of travelling…to…collect samples and whatnot, and…yeah.”
His mother darted him an amused glance. “Okay, love, so you don’t want your mother poking around in your life. ‘Travelling to collect samples’ will do me.”
Smiling gratefully at her for the cessation in interrogation, Theo nevertheless entertained dark suspicions that she’d be doing some clandestine internet searches as soon as possible. Thank goodness the Society was prepared, with a whole network of expertly faked internet contacts and a whole website with as much solid scientific veracity as any inquisitive parent could possibly wish for.
These Society people were clever, he thought, and felt the first stirrings of pride at being a member of such a great organisation.
The news was broken that night at dinner. His father, as predicted, was immensely pleased and proud and did a lot of back-slapping and almost as much insinuation about new girlfriends. He did this so much Theo was half-tempted to believe his father thought he was gay. His little sister, who was approximately four years younger than him, gave him some grudging congratulations and a sharp stare in an effort to detect any falsehood in his story. She never believed anything he said; but then she never believed anything anyone said, and was an inveterate creator and propagator of conspiracy theories. It amused him that she was right about hidden secret societies, although she hadn’t yet claimed mythical beasts were real. Ah well; give her time and she’d probably bring it up in connection with something.
As soon as possible he escaped upstairs and began the arduous task of deciding what to pack. Reluctantly he decided against the videogames, reasoning that he’d be living it so he didn’t have to play it.
He did, however, manage to wedge in the Monty Python TV series box set. There was no guaranteeing that anyone else in the Society had the same sense of humour.
He ended up having to pillage his parent’s room for suitcases. He’d never realised that a sports bag, while perfectly capable of handling a two-week holiday in France, fell sadly short when asked to contain everything necessary for leaving home. They tended to split at the seams if so much as one excess fantasy novel was wedged inside.
Two days later (it would have been the next day, but his mother had insisted they do one last thing ‘as a family’, leading to Theo spending several hours trooping around some old manor house, listening to his parents banter about how much they’d like to live like this and his sister seeing ancient cults in every painting and secret passages in every vaguely misshapen wall panel or bit of plaster.), he was once again standing outside Paddington Station, this time carrying suitcases and knowing exactly what he was getting into.
He’d declined his mother’s invitation to drive him there again, because he just knew she’d want to hug and kiss him and he wasn’t overly keen on having that in public. Plus, she’d already gone overboard with the goodbyes at home. He’d got the bus instead.
Taking a deep breath, he walked into the station, nodded at the suspicious man in the station uniform, and sauntered with exaggerated nonchalance over to the broom cupboard that wasn’t a broom cupboard.
To his relief the key they’d given him fitted straight off and turned easily, and he didn’t have to make a fool of himself wandering about trying to unlock apparently private cupboards. The lift bore him steadily downwards with its barely-audible quiet hum, while he fidgeted nervously and picked at a loose bit of plastic on one of his suitcases. What was he doing? This could still turn out to be a huge mistake…
And then the lift door opened and let him out into the artificially illuminated cavern, revealing Rowena standing there, apparently waiting for him. She gave a flicker of a smile, when she saw him, but her foot had been tapping impatiently.
“I’m here to take you to your new quarters,” she said, turning and beginning to walk as she spoke. “You’ll be sharing with Sashi.”
“…Sashi?”
“One of our more junior members…you’ll meet her soon enough. This way.”
The accommodation was a sizeable block in an elegant almost Victorian style. Rowena jogged tirelessly ahead of him up three flights of stairs while he bumped breathlessly up behind her, awkwardly dragging his suitcases. She also generously offered to give him a quick tour around his new living quarters, and when he incautiously agreed gave him one that basically amounted to opening all the doors and pointing.
“Kitchen, bathroom, spare room for stuff, Sashi’s room, your room. We’re standing in the living room. Have fun. There’s a welcome pack thing next to your bed. See ya later.”
And then she left.
Vaguely bemused, Theo heaved his bags into his new room, dumped them at the end of the bed and picked up the welcome pack. It contained two pieces of paper and a complimentary biro with the MyHunt Society logo printed on it, which while nice wasn’t much of a welcome pack. He clicked it absently as he read the short covering letter.
‘Mr Hunt, Welcome to the Society. Included here is a timetable of your lessons, commencing tomorrow afternoon. You have today and tomorrow morning to explore the compound; feel free to wander anywhere you wish, although I ask you to please respect signs and locked doors. I hope you find your membership of this Society an exciting and rewarding experience.
Cairbre Adfair.’
“Lessons? Man. Lessons in what?” he wondered, picking up the other sheet of paper. Lessons in more types of weapons than he could shake a stick at, myths and legends and horse riding, it turned out. It certainly looked a lot more interesting than normal timetables.
And that was it.
Theo scratched his head and wondered what to do. In a sudden attack of responsibility he unpacked first, or at least threw his clothes into the chest of drawers and somewhat surreptitiously arranged Yorick on the bed, half-hidden in the bedclothes. Yorick was a stuffed dragon and necessary for Theo’s peace of mind, as he had been present since childhood and had warded off innumerable terrible nightmares with his flaming breath.
Or at least that’s what Theo said.
He then checked out the bathroom and kitchen. The former showed distinct signs of single female occupation; he left his toothbrush and toothpaste on the sink in a slightly apologetic manner. The kitchen yielded further clues; this Sashi appeared to be vegetarian, judging from the marked lack of anything resembling meat, and also a little bit of a messy cook. There was a half-eaten salad sandwich lying on the side and a dirty saucepan and plate in the sink.
Theo wondered if he should wash up, in order to make a good impression. In the end he decided that was probably a bit much.
He didn’t even peek into his new flatmate’s bedroom. She might be the type to wreak horrible revenge on him.
Once he had exhausted all the flat had to offer, Theo decided to strike out into the compound and see exactly what was what.
---
His mother picked him up outside the station, and he was mildly surprised to find out that it had only been three or four hours since he had gone in.
“Well?” his mother said expectantly, glancing across at him. “How did it go?”
Theo, who had been staring out the window and turning his experiences over in his mind, jerked back to reality and grinned.
“Better than I thought. I have a position, and they’ve even offered me free accommodation.”
It was standard practice for new recruits, Mr Adfair had told him, so they could easily be trained and also weren’t likely to get overexcited and blurt things out that no-one outside the Society needed to know. He’d have a sizeable suite of rooms, apparently, although he’d have to share the living room, bathroom and kitchen with someone else.
Mrs Hunt looked a little startled at the news that her only son would be leaving the nest so suddenly after showing slightly less than no inclination to do so previously.
“So you’ll be moving out, huh? See, I told you this exercise was profitable! How soon will you be taking up your position?”
“As soon as I like, they said. Which I guess means as soon as I can pack up all my stuff and move.”
“Well! This is all very sudden, but I’m pleased for you, love. Your father will be pleased as well.”
“Hah,” was Theo’s only answer to that. His father had been telling him to pack up and leave for some time now, disguising it in jovial enquiries about when he’d be getting a girlfriend and setting up a home with her. Mr Hunt liked to think these things were amusing, but they’d been grating on his son since the second repetition.
A thought seemed to strike his mother.
“What does this ‘MyHunt Society’ do, anyway? I don’t believe I’ve heard of it.”
Theo stiffened and thanked his lucky stars he’d been briefed.
“Oh, um, it’s about environmental protection and stuff…you know…conservation,” he said as casually as he could manage. His mother blinked, then shrugged.
“Well, you always have been good at science,” she said happily. She liked to believe this, although it was evident to most other people that Theo’s scientific skills were quite solidly grounded in the ‘average’ compartment. “So what does your new job entail, exactly?”
“Uh, well, I’ll probably be doing quite a bit of travelling…to…collect samples and whatnot, and…yeah.”
His mother darted him an amused glance. “Okay, love, so you don’t want your mother poking around in your life. ‘Travelling to collect samples’ will do me.”
Smiling gratefully at her for the cessation in interrogation, Theo nevertheless entertained dark suspicions that she’d be doing some clandestine internet searches as soon as possible. Thank goodness the Society was prepared, with a whole network of expertly faked internet contacts and a whole website with as much solid scientific veracity as any inquisitive parent could possibly wish for.
These Society people were clever, he thought, and felt the first stirrings of pride at being a member of such a great organisation.
The news was broken that night at dinner. His father, as predicted, was immensely pleased and proud and did a lot of back-slapping and almost as much insinuation about new girlfriends. He did this so much Theo was half-tempted to believe his father thought he was gay. His little sister, who was approximately four years younger than him, gave him some grudging congratulations and a sharp stare in an effort to detect any falsehood in his story. She never believed anything he said; but then she never believed anything anyone said, and was an inveterate creator and propagator of conspiracy theories. It amused him that she was right about hidden secret societies, although she hadn’t yet claimed mythical beasts were real. Ah well; give her time and she’d probably bring it up in connection with something.
As soon as possible he escaped upstairs and began the arduous task of deciding what to pack. Reluctantly he decided against the videogames, reasoning that he’d be living it so he didn’t have to play it.
He did, however, manage to wedge in the Monty Python TV series box set. There was no guaranteeing that anyone else in the Society had the same sense of humour.
He ended up having to pillage his parent’s room for suitcases. He’d never realised that a sports bag, while perfectly capable of handling a two-week holiday in France, fell sadly short when asked to contain everything necessary for leaving home. They tended to split at the seams if so much as one excess fantasy novel was wedged inside.
Two days later (it would have been the next day, but his mother had insisted they do one last thing ‘as a family’, leading to Theo spending several hours trooping around some old manor house, listening to his parents banter about how much they’d like to live like this and his sister seeing ancient cults in every painting and secret passages in every vaguely misshapen wall panel or bit of plaster.), he was once again standing outside Paddington Station, this time carrying suitcases and knowing exactly what he was getting into.
He’d declined his mother’s invitation to drive him there again, because he just knew she’d want to hug and kiss him and he wasn’t overly keen on having that in public. Plus, she’d already gone overboard with the goodbyes at home. He’d got the bus instead.
Taking a deep breath, he walked into the station, nodded at the suspicious man in the station uniform, and sauntered with exaggerated nonchalance over to the broom cupboard that wasn’t a broom cupboard.
To his relief the key they’d given him fitted straight off and turned easily, and he didn’t have to make a fool of himself wandering about trying to unlock apparently private cupboards. The lift bore him steadily downwards with its barely-audible quiet hum, while he fidgeted nervously and picked at a loose bit of plastic on one of his suitcases. What was he doing? This could still turn out to be a huge mistake…
And then the lift door opened and let him out into the artificially illuminated cavern, revealing Rowena standing there, apparently waiting for him. She gave a flicker of a smile, when she saw him, but her foot had been tapping impatiently.
“I’m here to take you to your new quarters,” she said, turning and beginning to walk as she spoke. “You’ll be sharing with Sashi.”
“…Sashi?”
“One of our more junior members…you’ll meet her soon enough. This way.”
The accommodation was a sizeable block in an elegant almost Victorian style. Rowena jogged tirelessly ahead of him up three flights of stairs while he bumped breathlessly up behind her, awkwardly dragging his suitcases. She also generously offered to give him a quick tour around his new living quarters, and when he incautiously agreed gave him one that basically amounted to opening all the doors and pointing.
“Kitchen, bathroom, spare room for stuff, Sashi’s room, your room. We’re standing in the living room. Have fun. There’s a welcome pack thing next to your bed. See ya later.”
And then she left.
Vaguely bemused, Theo heaved his bags into his new room, dumped them at the end of the bed and picked up the welcome pack. It contained two pieces of paper and a complimentary biro with the MyHunt Society logo printed on it, which while nice wasn’t much of a welcome pack. He clicked it absently as he read the short covering letter.
‘Mr Hunt, Welcome to the Society. Included here is a timetable of your lessons, commencing tomorrow afternoon. You have today and tomorrow morning to explore the compound; feel free to wander anywhere you wish, although I ask you to please respect signs and locked doors. I hope you find your membership of this Society an exciting and rewarding experience.
Cairbre Adfair.’
“Lessons? Man. Lessons in what?” he wondered, picking up the other sheet of paper. Lessons in more types of weapons than he could shake a stick at, myths and legends and horse riding, it turned out. It certainly looked a lot more interesting than normal timetables.
And that was it.
Theo scratched his head and wondered what to do. In a sudden attack of responsibility he unpacked first, or at least threw his clothes into the chest of drawers and somewhat surreptitiously arranged Yorick on the bed, half-hidden in the bedclothes. Yorick was a stuffed dragon and necessary for Theo’s peace of mind, as he had been present since childhood and had warded off innumerable terrible nightmares with his flaming breath.
Or at least that’s what Theo said.
He then checked out the bathroom and kitchen. The former showed distinct signs of single female occupation; he left his toothbrush and toothpaste on the sink in a slightly apologetic manner. The kitchen yielded further clues; this Sashi appeared to be vegetarian, judging from the marked lack of anything resembling meat, and also a little bit of a messy cook. There was a half-eaten salad sandwich lying on the side and a dirty saucepan and plate in the sink.
Theo wondered if he should wash up, in order to make a good impression. In the end he decided that was probably a bit much.
He didn’t even peek into his new flatmate’s bedroom. She might be the type to wreak horrible revenge on him.
Once he had exhausted all the flat had to offer, Theo decided to strike out into the compound and see exactly what was what.
Sunday 11 January 2009
Yes, This Is Chapter Four: Various Things with Horns
Theo’s first reaction, when informed, was to laugh.
“Oh, come on. That can’t be true. What do you really do?”
Mr Adfair smiled genially. “It’s true, Mr Hunt. I understand your disbelief, but it’s true.”
Seeing that the man appeared utterly serious, Theo stopped laughing and raised an eyebrow.
“You’re asking me to believe that there’s really a whole secret society devoted to hunting down and killing dangerous mythical creatures? Sonofabitch. I thought the whole point of mythical creatures was that they were mythical. The clue’s right in the name.”
Raising his own eyebrows, Mr Adfair gestured to the winged stallion. “There’s proof in front of you, Mr Hunt. This is Lusala, mount of one of the greatest hunters this Society has ever had and father of the best bloodline our pegasi breeders had, have or will ever have. A magnificent beast, don’t you agree?”
“Well, yeah, but…it’s not like those wings couldn’t have been added by the taxidermist…as far as I know it’s not hard to add things to a stuffed animal…”
“That is a very good point,” Mr Adfair said gravely. “Would you like to look around my museum and see if it changes your opinion at all?”
“More stuffed creatures that could easily be faked?”
“Yes,” the man admitted, and then he smiled. “Of course, there is also the zoo…”
“A zoo of…mythical creatures?” Theo said, rather weakly. Either this man and presumably everyone in the whole complex was entirely mad and fond of bizarre taxidermy or there was something very odd going on.
“Indeed. I think we had better start with the museums, though. It may soften the surprise a little. Follow me.”
He moved away at a sedate pace towards another door in the far wall, Theo trailing uncertainly in his wake. Producing an ornate gold key from his pocket, the head of the Mythical Creatures Hunting Society (MyHunt for short) unlocked the door and ushered through his newest recruit.
The room beyond was full of glass cases, which in turn were full of some of the oddest things Theo had ever seen.
It had a very strange atmosphere. It made him feel slightly ill, almost as though he’d been lightly punched in the stomach, but also attracted him in a kind of morbid, ghoulish way. Curious despite himself, he drifted forwards to the first case and peered inside. It held a jackrabbit, with antlers.
“A Jackalope,” Mr Adfair identified it. “Native to America. About as much use as a normal jackrabbit, I’m afraid, and just as pesky.”
Next to the Jackalope was another rabbit, this one with a two-foot horn protruding from its forehead. That one, according to Mr Adfair, was an Al-Miraj, or just a Miraj, and despite the fact that it looked largely harmless it could have eaten both of them and still been hungry had it been alive.
“One of our members used them as hunting beasts once,” he observed. “Very efficient, but unfortunately had to be killed when they got out of their pen and into the Basan enclosure…”
Basan turned out to be in the next glass case. They looked like chickens.
“They breathe fire,” Mr Adfair said dispassionately. “However, they also lay very tasty eggs.”
After a few more cases, in which Theo viewed what looked like big black dogs (“Hellhounds.”), a horse with bulrushes for a mane (“Kelpie.”), a donkey (“Brag.”) and a black cat (“Cat Sidhe.”), Theo had almost had enough. The atmosphere was getting to him, as were the sad glass eyes of the stuffed creatures, and he hadn’t seen anything nearly convincing yet.
“Look, these just look like normal animals. I mean, some have bits stuck on, but stuff that’s easy to fake!”
His guide smiled at him.
“Mr Hunt, if we were showing you faked creatures, at least have the decency to assume we would show you interesting faked creatures…Why would we waste our time showing you ordinary cats and donkeys?”
Theo had no answer for that. Mr Adfair sighed.
“All right. I agree that stuffed creatures are far too easy to deny as trickery. Come with me to the zoo.”
He led the way back past the Cat Sidhe and the Brag and the Kelpie and the Hellhounds and the Basan and the Miraj and the Jackalope (none of which looked any more unusual going the other way), out through his luxurious office (Theo could not meet Lusala’s aching glass eyes), past Mr Loud Voice (who gave Theo a suspicious look) over the beautiful Persian carpet (which once again moved very slightly under their feet, in a way that carpets did not usually move) and out into the main complex. When Theo had come through it with Rowena it had been deserted; now there were a few people passing, looking at him curiously and bowing their heads respectfully to Mr Adfair. They did not look like people who joined a Society to hunt mythical creatures; they looked sensible.
Many of them carried weapons.
“The zoo is where the Society keeps its hunting animals and those that are useful workers,” Mr Adfair explained as they reached the sturdy, reinforced door that led into it. “Mythical pets are forbidden, and we have strict rules about where these creatures can be taken…it would not do for the rest of the masses to discover that their myths are reality. Good heavens, it would be anarchy!”
To Theo, his swift and easy entry into the Society now made even less sense. But he didn’t have time to brood about it, because Mr Adfair had opened the door and the first thing he was confronted with was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
“Sonofabitch,” he breathed, moving slowly forwards to stare. It was elegant, dazzlingly white, gorgeous…
And it was absolutely definitely impossibly a unicorn.
It stared at him with a suspicious, nervous eye and shook its head, the pearly horn catching the light and gleaming briefly rainbow. As Theo got closer it began to paw the ground in nervousness and then abruptly turned and fled to the other side of the paddock it was installed in, leaving him blinking and breathless in disbelief.
Mr Adfair made no comment beyond “We don’t often capture unicorns, but our horsemaster believes he can break it to ride. We shall see.”
Theo opened and shut his mouth a couple of times, and then said, “That was a unicorn.”
“Indeed it was.”
“But…they…don’t…exist?”
“Tell that to him,” Mr Adfair said with a flash of humour, indicating the unicorn who was watching them cautiously from the far end of the enclosure. “Would you like to see more?”
“More unicorns?”
“Well, we have no more unicorns. But we have other mythical creatures. Come along.”
Theo, too stunned to do anything else, came along to what looked like a large henhouse where a cockerel watched them haughtily, perched on the roof. He was a magnificent bird, and somehow the hens pecking about in the yard beneath contrived to be equally magnificent, with none of the usual fussiness and general air of stupidity chickens usually possessed. They pecked with dignity.
“Basan,” Mr Adfair said unemotionally. “I told you about them earlier.”
“So…they really breathe fire?”
“Indeed. They are quite a pest to keep enclosed. We would not keep them if it weren’t for their eggs.”
Fascinated, Theo went up to the sizeable metal fence and peered through. The Basan cockerel eyeballed him and preened his wings ostentatiously, asserting his authority. The nearest Basan hen fixed him with a sharp eye and half-opened her beak in warning, allowing a wisp of flame to escape. Theo jerked back, and grinned ruefully.
“Another one you’re right about…”
Mr Adfair smiled benignly at him.
“I don’t lie, Mr Hunt. Now…would you like to see the Jackalope hutches?”
“You keep Jackalope?”
“For meat. They’re very good in pies.”
“…Like rabbit pies?”
“Indubitably. They are essentially rabbits, after all.”
The Jackalope twitched their noses inquisitively at Theo, their antlers clicking against each other as they jostled at the front of their pen to get a better view of the stranger. Theo found them rather cute, especially one; a big male, fatter than the others, who didn’t join the curious scrum at the front of the pens but rather sat at the back and gave him a knowing look. Theo couldn’t help feeling that it was probably, in some odd way, cleverer than him.
Mr Adfair, seeing the direction of his gaze, gave a small smile.
“The girl who looks after these creatures calls that one Socrates. Presumably she believes he is…fairly intelligent.”
“He looks it,” Theo said with a faint grin. “Um…is he going to be put in a pie?”
“Probably. Now…over here we keep the hellhounds.”
Trailing after his new boss, Theo glanced back at the Jackalope pens to see that, although the rest of them had dispersed, Socrates had hopped forwards and was watching them go with his ears pricked.
The hellhounds rather scared him.
They paced back and forth in their kennels staring at him with red eyes and slobbering jaws. There were a startling variety of them; some where pitch-black and malevolent, some were white with red ears and their kennels seemed colder than the others, and there were at least two with three heads. Funnily enough, these ones were the friendliest, and all three heads seemed eager to sniff and lick and otherwise make his acquaintance. In fact, they were so friendly they occasionally argued amongst themselves about who would get to lick first.
Mr Adfair watched him play with them with a tiny smile on his face, and once Theo extricated himself from their enthusiastic goodbyes and rejoined him outside the pens, he gave him a swift glance and enquired,
“Do you believe me now?”
Theo grinned.
“Definitely. When do I start?”
“Oh, come on. That can’t be true. What do you really do?”
Mr Adfair smiled genially. “It’s true, Mr Hunt. I understand your disbelief, but it’s true.”
Seeing that the man appeared utterly serious, Theo stopped laughing and raised an eyebrow.
“You’re asking me to believe that there’s really a whole secret society devoted to hunting down and killing dangerous mythical creatures? Sonofabitch. I thought the whole point of mythical creatures was that they were mythical. The clue’s right in the name.”
Raising his own eyebrows, Mr Adfair gestured to the winged stallion. “There’s proof in front of you, Mr Hunt. This is Lusala, mount of one of the greatest hunters this Society has ever had and father of the best bloodline our pegasi breeders had, have or will ever have. A magnificent beast, don’t you agree?”
“Well, yeah, but…it’s not like those wings couldn’t have been added by the taxidermist…as far as I know it’s not hard to add things to a stuffed animal…”
“That is a very good point,” Mr Adfair said gravely. “Would you like to look around my museum and see if it changes your opinion at all?”
“More stuffed creatures that could easily be faked?”
“Yes,” the man admitted, and then he smiled. “Of course, there is also the zoo…”
“A zoo of…mythical creatures?” Theo said, rather weakly. Either this man and presumably everyone in the whole complex was entirely mad and fond of bizarre taxidermy or there was something very odd going on.
“Indeed. I think we had better start with the museums, though. It may soften the surprise a little. Follow me.”
He moved away at a sedate pace towards another door in the far wall, Theo trailing uncertainly in his wake. Producing an ornate gold key from his pocket, the head of the Mythical Creatures Hunting Society (MyHunt for short) unlocked the door and ushered through his newest recruit.
The room beyond was full of glass cases, which in turn were full of some of the oddest things Theo had ever seen.
It had a very strange atmosphere. It made him feel slightly ill, almost as though he’d been lightly punched in the stomach, but also attracted him in a kind of morbid, ghoulish way. Curious despite himself, he drifted forwards to the first case and peered inside. It held a jackrabbit, with antlers.
“A Jackalope,” Mr Adfair identified it. “Native to America. About as much use as a normal jackrabbit, I’m afraid, and just as pesky.”
Next to the Jackalope was another rabbit, this one with a two-foot horn protruding from its forehead. That one, according to Mr Adfair, was an Al-Miraj, or just a Miraj, and despite the fact that it looked largely harmless it could have eaten both of them and still been hungry had it been alive.
“One of our members used them as hunting beasts once,” he observed. “Very efficient, but unfortunately had to be killed when they got out of their pen and into the Basan enclosure…”
Basan turned out to be in the next glass case. They looked like chickens.
“They breathe fire,” Mr Adfair said dispassionately. “However, they also lay very tasty eggs.”
After a few more cases, in which Theo viewed what looked like big black dogs (“Hellhounds.”), a horse with bulrushes for a mane (“Kelpie.”), a donkey (“Brag.”) and a black cat (“Cat Sidhe.”), Theo had almost had enough. The atmosphere was getting to him, as were the sad glass eyes of the stuffed creatures, and he hadn’t seen anything nearly convincing yet.
“Look, these just look like normal animals. I mean, some have bits stuck on, but stuff that’s easy to fake!”
His guide smiled at him.
“Mr Hunt, if we were showing you faked creatures, at least have the decency to assume we would show you interesting faked creatures…Why would we waste our time showing you ordinary cats and donkeys?”
Theo had no answer for that. Mr Adfair sighed.
“All right. I agree that stuffed creatures are far too easy to deny as trickery. Come with me to the zoo.”
He led the way back past the Cat Sidhe and the Brag and the Kelpie and the Hellhounds and the Basan and the Miraj and the Jackalope (none of which looked any more unusual going the other way), out through his luxurious office (Theo could not meet Lusala’s aching glass eyes), past Mr Loud Voice (who gave Theo a suspicious look) over the beautiful Persian carpet (which once again moved very slightly under their feet, in a way that carpets did not usually move) and out into the main complex. When Theo had come through it with Rowena it had been deserted; now there were a few people passing, looking at him curiously and bowing their heads respectfully to Mr Adfair. They did not look like people who joined a Society to hunt mythical creatures; they looked sensible.
Many of them carried weapons.
“The zoo is where the Society keeps its hunting animals and those that are useful workers,” Mr Adfair explained as they reached the sturdy, reinforced door that led into it. “Mythical pets are forbidden, and we have strict rules about where these creatures can be taken…it would not do for the rest of the masses to discover that their myths are reality. Good heavens, it would be anarchy!”
To Theo, his swift and easy entry into the Society now made even less sense. But he didn’t have time to brood about it, because Mr Adfair had opened the door and the first thing he was confronted with was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
“Sonofabitch,” he breathed, moving slowly forwards to stare. It was elegant, dazzlingly white, gorgeous…
And it was absolutely definitely impossibly a unicorn.
It stared at him with a suspicious, nervous eye and shook its head, the pearly horn catching the light and gleaming briefly rainbow. As Theo got closer it began to paw the ground in nervousness and then abruptly turned and fled to the other side of the paddock it was installed in, leaving him blinking and breathless in disbelief.
Mr Adfair made no comment beyond “We don’t often capture unicorns, but our horsemaster believes he can break it to ride. We shall see.”
Theo opened and shut his mouth a couple of times, and then said, “That was a unicorn.”
“Indeed it was.”
“But…they…don’t…exist?”
“Tell that to him,” Mr Adfair said with a flash of humour, indicating the unicorn who was watching them cautiously from the far end of the enclosure. “Would you like to see more?”
“More unicorns?”
“Well, we have no more unicorns. But we have other mythical creatures. Come along.”
Theo, too stunned to do anything else, came along to what looked like a large henhouse where a cockerel watched them haughtily, perched on the roof. He was a magnificent bird, and somehow the hens pecking about in the yard beneath contrived to be equally magnificent, with none of the usual fussiness and general air of stupidity chickens usually possessed. They pecked with dignity.
“Basan,” Mr Adfair said unemotionally. “I told you about them earlier.”
“So…they really breathe fire?”
“Indeed. They are quite a pest to keep enclosed. We would not keep them if it weren’t for their eggs.”
Fascinated, Theo went up to the sizeable metal fence and peered through. The Basan cockerel eyeballed him and preened his wings ostentatiously, asserting his authority. The nearest Basan hen fixed him with a sharp eye and half-opened her beak in warning, allowing a wisp of flame to escape. Theo jerked back, and grinned ruefully.
“Another one you’re right about…”
Mr Adfair smiled benignly at him.
“I don’t lie, Mr Hunt. Now…would you like to see the Jackalope hutches?”
“You keep Jackalope?”
“For meat. They’re very good in pies.”
“…Like rabbit pies?”
“Indubitably. They are essentially rabbits, after all.”
The Jackalope twitched their noses inquisitively at Theo, their antlers clicking against each other as they jostled at the front of their pen to get a better view of the stranger. Theo found them rather cute, especially one; a big male, fatter than the others, who didn’t join the curious scrum at the front of the pens but rather sat at the back and gave him a knowing look. Theo couldn’t help feeling that it was probably, in some odd way, cleverer than him.
Mr Adfair, seeing the direction of his gaze, gave a small smile.
“The girl who looks after these creatures calls that one Socrates. Presumably she believes he is…fairly intelligent.”
“He looks it,” Theo said with a faint grin. “Um…is he going to be put in a pie?”
“Probably. Now…over here we keep the hellhounds.”
Trailing after his new boss, Theo glanced back at the Jackalope pens to see that, although the rest of them had dispersed, Socrates had hopped forwards and was watching them go with his ears pricked.
The hellhounds rather scared him.
They paced back and forth in their kennels staring at him with red eyes and slobbering jaws. There were a startling variety of them; some where pitch-black and malevolent, some were white with red ears and their kennels seemed colder than the others, and there were at least two with three heads. Funnily enough, these ones were the friendliest, and all three heads seemed eager to sniff and lick and otherwise make his acquaintance. In fact, they were so friendly they occasionally argued amongst themselves about who would get to lick first.
Mr Adfair watched him play with them with a tiny smile on his face, and once Theo extricated himself from their enthusiastic goodbyes and rejoined him outside the pens, he gave him a swift glance and enquired,
“Do you believe me now?”
Theo grinned.
“Definitely. When do I start?”
Thursday 8 January 2009
No, this isn't Chapter Four.
Just thought you, my non-existent readers (except Jonathan) might be interested in my result from a 'What Mythical Creature Are You?' quiz, taken while researching mythical beasties to insert into this story.
Which in turn was done while something for school would have been far more productive, considering I can't even remember when Sir Robert Peel was Prime Minister and I'm studying him.
Well, never mind.
I think it's quite accurate really. =3
I love dragons.
Which in turn was done while something for school would have been far more productive, considering I can't even remember when Sir Robert Peel was Prime Minister and I'm studying him.
Well, never mind.
I think it's quite accurate really. =3
I love dragons.
Dragon
Dragons--perhaps the most reknowned mythical creature--are a large, scaly, and fire-breathing lizard. There are countless interpretations of a dragon's appearance, but most cultures agree that a dragon is to be feared. This is probably a good thing, considering, but dragons are not known for their violence towards humans. Although their diet consists of mostly large mammals, they rarely eat people. If they do attack humans, it is a defensive strategy for self-preservation. Despite being able to fly, dragons generally inhabit one area for their entire life-span. You are a reserved, private person. Some might describe you as being shy or quiet, but you tend to open up quite a bit with those whom you trust. Be aware that people who don't know you as well can be put off by your cool demeanor; it won't hurt you to open up every once in a while. You would excell as an author, artist, vetinarian, pilot, or a spy.
Dragons--perhaps the most reknowned mythical creature--are a large, scaly, and fire-breathing lizard. There are countless interpretations of a dragon's appearance, but most cultures agree that a dragon is to be feared. This is probably a good thing, considering, but dragons are not known for their violence towards humans. Although their diet consists of mostly large mammals, they rarely eat people. If they do attack humans, it is a defensive strategy for self-preservation. Despite being able to fly, dragons generally inhabit one area for their entire life-span. You are a reserved, private person. Some might describe you as being shy or quiet, but you tend to open up quite a bit with those whom you trust. Be aware that people who don't know you as well can be put off by your cool demeanor; it won't hurt you to open up every once in a while. You would excell as an author, artist, vetinarian, pilot, or a spy.
Tuesday 6 January 2009
Chapter Three: Questionnaires
By the time Rowena had delivered him to her superior, Theo’s neck was sore from constantly turning his head to catch a glimpse of further curiosities. From his guide’s somewhat cursory description, the MyHunt HQ under Paddington Station was a sizeable complex, incorporating several blocks of accommodation, places to eat, a surfeit of museums and even a riding school. His increasingly urgent requests to know how all this was possibly humanly possible were answered with polite smiles, and the most verbal answer was a brief statement along the lines of ‘You’re not allowed to know that yet’.
Eventually he gave up asking.
Rowena’s superior was comfortably ensconced in a sizeable suite of offices within the main building, an elegant construction that departed from the Greek theme to embrace some other ancient culture that Theo, whose historical education thus far had been regrettably lacking in architecture, failed to recognise.
He was placed in a waiting room that would have served for a small palace’s throne room, and then Rowena left, treating him to a goodbye wave as she hurried out. He stared at her departing back like a man watching his last hope of survival flip him the bird.
Luckily for his nerves, it wasn’t long before a voice he recognised from the telephone boomed out of the adjoining room requesting his immediate presence. He suspected it was the drill-sergeant quality in the demand that got him on his feet and through the door so fast; that and the fact that he was so wound up it made Big Ben look like a clockwork soldier.
The voice that had spoken to him over the telephone turned out to belong to a large man with a bristling moustache who heavily resembled an annoyed walrus, complete with the tusks.
“Theodore Hunt?” he barked; Theo gave hasty agreement. The man still managed to give him a look that suggested he was lower than scum, and Theo couldn’t help wondering what would have happened had he said ‘no’.
“You’re expected. Please go through immediately. Mr Adfair is expecting you.”
“Um…thank you.”
Slightly startled and rather relieved that Mr. Loud Voice wasn’t actually the leader of the organisation, Theo hurried across to the door on the opposite wall, nearly tripping up on a corner of the obviously expensive Persian rug on the floor. Mr Loud Voice gave him a disapproving look that managed to make its presence felt without being seen, and Theo made a conscious effort to straighten himself up and open the door like a civilised human being.
But he thought he had felt, just before he had stumbled, the carpet move beneath him, out of his way.
The room beyond the door was, if possible, even more opulent than the previous two, and larger, and although it was lavishly decorated with glass cases containing all manner of interesting things there was one item that took pride of place and immediately drew the eye. It was a magnificent white stallion, stuffed and mounted on a plinth, standing in a ‘noble war horse’ sort of way with its proud neck arched.
And someone had mounted a pair of huge white wings on its back, so it looked like they were sprouting from the animal’s shoulders.
Immediately curious and seeing no-one around, Theo ventured closer to take a better look. He’d never really met a horse before, but this one was enough to give anyone a positive view of the creatures. And whoever had done the wings had done them amazingly well; they almost looked genuine, despite being too big and the wrong shape to have come off any bird Theo had ever heard of.
Pity it was spoiled by the eyes. They stared fixedly to the front, glassy and dead, and they seemed…sad.
“Beautiful, isn’t he?” said a voice behind Theodore’s shoulder. It nearly gave him a heart attack before the owner of the voice walked round to stand beside him, gazing up at the horse before them. It was a man of middling height and build, with nondescript brown hair and the sort of face that you remembered for a couple of days before promptly forgetting. He darted Theo an amused sidelong glance, and held out a hand.
“Cairbre Adfair,” he introduced himself, his name by far the most unusual thing about him. Theo shook, just a little nervously.
“Theodore Hunt…”
“So you’re our new hopeful, are you? Nice to see the old bloodlines returning!”
“…Old bloodlines?” Theo said blankly. Mr Adfair darted him a speculating look, then smiled.
“Nothing too exciting. I think one of your ancestors was a member a few years ago, that’s all.”
“Oh,” was Theo’s slightly disappointed answer. “Uhm…Could you tell me what this Society is all about, at all? No-one else will give me a straight answer…”
“For good reason, Mr Hunt,” Mr Adfair said mock-severely, putting up a finger. “This is a secret society, after all. We have to ensure that people are serious about joining before we tell them anything. And that goes for you too I’m afraid.”
For some reason, this struck Theo as mildly disturbing. He looked up at the stuffed horse again, and then at the benignly smiling Mr Cairbre Adfair.
“…Okay. What do I have to do?”
He wasn’t sure what he was expecting exactly-probably some sort of mysterious initiation rite-but what he wasn’t expecting was for Mr Adfair to produce a sheet of paper from his jacket pocket and pass it across, along with a rather posh ballpoint pen.
“Just fill in this questionnaire. Take your time, think about the answers. There’s a table over in that corner.”
Obediently bearing the sheet of paper and the pen, Theodore crossed to the table and sat down, running his fingers across the design laid in the table’s dark mahogany. A panoply of mythical creatures ran and danced and scampered across its surface; well-known ones like centaurs and unicorns pursued by lesser-known figures and some that Theo couldn’t recognise at all. It was a fascinating collection, and he had quite an effort pulling his eyes back to his questionnaire.
“Okay now, lessee…name. Theodore Hunt. Age. Nineteen. Gender. Male. Can you use a gun? …No.”
The questions got odder from there. Dutifully he answered queries about his skill with swords (nil), his experience with bows and arrows (he’d learned a bit on an adventure holiday, and actually been quite good), his financial status (precarious), his level of physical fitness…by the end, he was quite certain that this Society would want nothing to do with him whatsoever.
Mr Adfair, however, looked quite pleased after reading it through.
“Well Mr Hunt, you’re evidently a complete novice, but you have potential. It’s good to see that you have some enthusiasm for sports, that’ll serve you well. Yes…yes. I think we can let you in.”
Leaving Theo rather startled, he crossed to the door, put his head round it and held an inaudible conversation with Mr Loud Voice in the next room. Mr Loud Voice sounded almost annoyed, but apparently all went well because Mr Adfair was smiling when he returned to his newest member.
“All sorted. Your details will be entered on our member’s database and then you’ll be all set.”
“Um…okay…good. Thanks,” Theo replied, rather confused. This all seemed very fast and easy, nothing like as difficult as he thought it’d be to get into this obviously very rich and rather elitist looking secret society. But no…he’d been let in as easily as if he’d been making an appointment with the dentist.
Mr Adfair patted him companionably on the shoulder.
“Welcome to the MyHunt Society, Mr Hunt. Do you want to find out what it’s all about?”
Eventually he gave up asking.
Rowena’s superior was comfortably ensconced in a sizeable suite of offices within the main building, an elegant construction that departed from the Greek theme to embrace some other ancient culture that Theo, whose historical education thus far had been regrettably lacking in architecture, failed to recognise.
He was placed in a waiting room that would have served for a small palace’s throne room, and then Rowena left, treating him to a goodbye wave as she hurried out. He stared at her departing back like a man watching his last hope of survival flip him the bird.
Luckily for his nerves, it wasn’t long before a voice he recognised from the telephone boomed out of the adjoining room requesting his immediate presence. He suspected it was the drill-sergeant quality in the demand that got him on his feet and through the door so fast; that and the fact that he was so wound up it made Big Ben look like a clockwork soldier.
The voice that had spoken to him over the telephone turned out to belong to a large man with a bristling moustache who heavily resembled an annoyed walrus, complete with the tusks.
“Theodore Hunt?” he barked; Theo gave hasty agreement. The man still managed to give him a look that suggested he was lower than scum, and Theo couldn’t help wondering what would have happened had he said ‘no’.
“You’re expected. Please go through immediately. Mr Adfair is expecting you.”
“Um…thank you.”
Slightly startled and rather relieved that Mr. Loud Voice wasn’t actually the leader of the organisation, Theo hurried across to the door on the opposite wall, nearly tripping up on a corner of the obviously expensive Persian rug on the floor. Mr Loud Voice gave him a disapproving look that managed to make its presence felt without being seen, and Theo made a conscious effort to straighten himself up and open the door like a civilised human being.
But he thought he had felt, just before he had stumbled, the carpet move beneath him, out of his way.
The room beyond the door was, if possible, even more opulent than the previous two, and larger, and although it was lavishly decorated with glass cases containing all manner of interesting things there was one item that took pride of place and immediately drew the eye. It was a magnificent white stallion, stuffed and mounted on a plinth, standing in a ‘noble war horse’ sort of way with its proud neck arched.
And someone had mounted a pair of huge white wings on its back, so it looked like they were sprouting from the animal’s shoulders.
Immediately curious and seeing no-one around, Theo ventured closer to take a better look. He’d never really met a horse before, but this one was enough to give anyone a positive view of the creatures. And whoever had done the wings had done them amazingly well; they almost looked genuine, despite being too big and the wrong shape to have come off any bird Theo had ever heard of.
Pity it was spoiled by the eyes. They stared fixedly to the front, glassy and dead, and they seemed…sad.
“Beautiful, isn’t he?” said a voice behind Theodore’s shoulder. It nearly gave him a heart attack before the owner of the voice walked round to stand beside him, gazing up at the horse before them. It was a man of middling height and build, with nondescript brown hair and the sort of face that you remembered for a couple of days before promptly forgetting. He darted Theo an amused sidelong glance, and held out a hand.
“Cairbre Adfair,” he introduced himself, his name by far the most unusual thing about him. Theo shook, just a little nervously.
“Theodore Hunt…”
“So you’re our new hopeful, are you? Nice to see the old bloodlines returning!”
“…Old bloodlines?” Theo said blankly. Mr Adfair darted him a speculating look, then smiled.
“Nothing too exciting. I think one of your ancestors was a member a few years ago, that’s all.”
“Oh,” was Theo’s slightly disappointed answer. “Uhm…Could you tell me what this Society is all about, at all? No-one else will give me a straight answer…”
“For good reason, Mr Hunt,” Mr Adfair said mock-severely, putting up a finger. “This is a secret society, after all. We have to ensure that people are serious about joining before we tell them anything. And that goes for you too I’m afraid.”
For some reason, this struck Theo as mildly disturbing. He looked up at the stuffed horse again, and then at the benignly smiling Mr Cairbre Adfair.
“…Okay. What do I have to do?”
He wasn’t sure what he was expecting exactly-probably some sort of mysterious initiation rite-but what he wasn’t expecting was for Mr Adfair to produce a sheet of paper from his jacket pocket and pass it across, along with a rather posh ballpoint pen.
“Just fill in this questionnaire. Take your time, think about the answers. There’s a table over in that corner.”
Obediently bearing the sheet of paper and the pen, Theodore crossed to the table and sat down, running his fingers across the design laid in the table’s dark mahogany. A panoply of mythical creatures ran and danced and scampered across its surface; well-known ones like centaurs and unicorns pursued by lesser-known figures and some that Theo couldn’t recognise at all. It was a fascinating collection, and he had quite an effort pulling his eyes back to his questionnaire.
“Okay now, lessee…name. Theodore Hunt. Age. Nineteen. Gender. Male. Can you use a gun? …No.”
The questions got odder from there. Dutifully he answered queries about his skill with swords (nil), his experience with bows and arrows (he’d learned a bit on an adventure holiday, and actually been quite good), his financial status (precarious), his level of physical fitness…by the end, he was quite certain that this Society would want nothing to do with him whatsoever.
Mr Adfair, however, looked quite pleased after reading it through.
“Well Mr Hunt, you’re evidently a complete novice, but you have potential. It’s good to see that you have some enthusiasm for sports, that’ll serve you well. Yes…yes. I think we can let you in.”
Leaving Theo rather startled, he crossed to the door, put his head round it and held an inaudible conversation with Mr Loud Voice in the next room. Mr Loud Voice sounded almost annoyed, but apparently all went well because Mr Adfair was smiling when he returned to his newest member.
“All sorted. Your details will be entered on our member’s database and then you’ll be all set.”
“Um…okay…good. Thanks,” Theo replied, rather confused. This all seemed very fast and easy, nothing like as difficult as he thought it’d be to get into this obviously very rich and rather elitist looking secret society. But no…he’d been let in as easily as if he’d been making an appointment with the dentist.
Mr Adfair patted him companionably on the shoulder.
“Welcome to the MyHunt Society, Mr Hunt. Do you want to find out what it’s all about?”
Sunday 4 January 2009
Chapter Two: What, No Marmalade Sandwiches?
His mother was surprised and delighted that he’d acquired an interview so fast, and insisted on driving him to the station herself, although she made it abundantly clear that she thought it a silly place to hold a meeting.
“I mean, a busy station? Does he want you to get a train somewhere? If he does, do remember to call me on your mobile, won’t you? And don’t go anywhere if you don’t trust the man. I know you’re nineteen and not a child, but the idea of not getting into anyone’s car holds true even now…”
“Yes mum,” Theo said obediently, privately resolving to get into as many strangers’ cars as humanly possible.
And it wasn’t until he’d jumped out of the car, hastily agreeing to her sensible suggestions of times and places to meet him, and walked as fast as he could into the building that he realised that he’d never arranged to actually meet anyone.
The man on the phone had said someone would meet him, hadn’t he? Yes, but how would this mysterious person know who Theodore Hunt was, exactly? He was just a voice on the telephone. And, a glance outside the door confirmed, his mother had driven away, and would have been none-too-pleased to find out anyway.
“Sonofabitch,” he said under his breath. “I’m such an idiot.”
He stood irresolute in the middle of the floor as passengers hurried past him; not many, it wasn’t rush hour yet, but increasing and certainly enough to get annoyed at someone dithering in their way.
“Watch where you’re standing,” snapped a man with an American accent, bustling past with several suitcases. Theo skipped out of the way, catching a sharp blow to the shins nevertheless, and directed a scowl at the man’s blue-suited back.
“Same to you,” he mumbled for no real reason, and wondered vaguely if he was supposed to ask someone where the MyHunt Society was located. Perhaps there’d be a password or a sort of secret handshake…
“Can I help you, son?”
A large man with the uniform of a station employee had materialised behind him and was regarding him with the look of ingrained suspicion always worn by those in authority when presented with teenage males in jeans and hooded sweatshirts. Slightly startled, Theo turned and put on his best, most politest smile.
“Um…yes. Could you tell me how to get to the MyHunt Society HQ?”
The man’s look of suspicion sharpened and he shook his head.
“I’ve never heard of it. Are you waiting for someone?”
“Uhm…yes.”
“Then can I please ask you to sit down and wait? You’re providing an obstruction.”
Theo agreed hastily, rather embarrassed, and installed himself on one of the uncomfortable metal benches along the walls.
Various station employees then appeared from the woodwork to ensure that while he was loitering it was with entirely innocent intent.
Theo sat.
And sat.
And looked at his watch, and started swearing under his breath.
“This is stupid,” he grumbled, getting to his feet and stretching. “Probably some sort of dumb practical joke…bet there isn’t even such a thing as the MyHunt Society. Should have cottoned on when they told me to go to a station for an interv-”
“Excuse me, are you Theodore Hunt?”
It was a chirpy, enquiring voice which subsequently proved to belong to a chirpy, enquiring young woman, standing behind him and tilting her chin to look up at him. She barely came up to his chest, but stood in a way that defied anyone to mention her lack of stature. Her gaze was direct and curious, and she was wearing green eyeshadow.
Slightly disconcerted, Theo nodded.
“Um…yes.”
The young woman subjected him to a piercing stare that took in his entire appearance, and snorted.
“Not much of a Hunt,” she said cryptically, and shrugged. “Come on then.”
She turned and began to walk away. Realising he wasn’t following, she turned and beckoned.
“Theodore Hunt, right? Come to join the MyHunt Society? Follow me and I’ll take you there.”
“Oh! Oh. Right,” Theo spluttered, rushing to catch up with her. She gave him a grin that, while friendly, didn’t have much of an opinion of his intelligence and strode off confidently through the growing rush-hour crowds, Theo trailing in her wake.
They fetched up by a nondescript door that wore a vaguely threatening sign refusing to allow access to anyone not a railway employee. The young woman, with complete unconcern, pulled a key out of her pocket and fitted it in the lock. Theodore blinked.
“Uhm, miss, um…”
“Rowena,” she supplied, pushing open the door. “And don’t fuss about the door sign. Just go in.”
Theo went in.
It was a broom cupboard.
Rowena nipped in after him and shut the door, turning the light on. The low-watt bulb flickered unhappily; there wasn’t much room in the tiny space, especially with all the buckets, brooms and mops stacked about, and the pair of them were standing uncomfortably close.
There was a pause, and Theo cleared his throat.
“So why are we in a cleaning cupboard?”
“Isn’t a cleaning cupboard,” Rowena said succinctly. “It’s a lift.”
“…A lift? Where’s your base, in a nuclear bunker?”
Rowena rolled her eyes. “Don’t be stupid. It’s a secret society; it doesn’t have big headquarters with a neon sign outside.”
“But it does take out full-page ads in newspapers?”
“Vague ads. And we don’t let just anyone in.”
The conversation lapsed, leaving Theo to wonder why they’d been so agreeable about letting him in. He was hardly secret society material.
Not long after, a faint purring that Theodore hadn’t been hearing stopped, and became much more noticeable for it.
“We’re here,” Rowena announced, and pushed the door open. Relieved to be leaving the cramped, rather stuffy cleaning cupboard (it had begun to be insidiously filled with the scent of Rowena’s strong perfume, which had overwhelmed even the lingering smell of bleach and was working rather efficiently as a sinus cleaner), Theo stumbled out after her…
And walked into what he could have sworn was a Greek temple.
He couldn’t help gawping. There were pillars, Greek-style carvings, tasteful nudey statues…only the fact that it was a substantial way below ground and presumably several millennia younger made it different from the best-preserved Greek temples in, well, actual Greece.
“Sonofabitch,” he said in wonder. “How the hell is this place even possible?!”
Rowena grinned.
“Welcome to the MyHunt Society. Everyone says that.”
“I mean, a busy station? Does he want you to get a train somewhere? If he does, do remember to call me on your mobile, won’t you? And don’t go anywhere if you don’t trust the man. I know you’re nineteen and not a child, but the idea of not getting into anyone’s car holds true even now…”
“Yes mum,” Theo said obediently, privately resolving to get into as many strangers’ cars as humanly possible.
And it wasn’t until he’d jumped out of the car, hastily agreeing to her sensible suggestions of times and places to meet him, and walked as fast as he could into the building that he realised that he’d never arranged to actually meet anyone.
The man on the phone had said someone would meet him, hadn’t he? Yes, but how would this mysterious person know who Theodore Hunt was, exactly? He was just a voice on the telephone. And, a glance outside the door confirmed, his mother had driven away, and would have been none-too-pleased to find out anyway.
“Sonofabitch,” he said under his breath. “I’m such an idiot.”
He stood irresolute in the middle of the floor as passengers hurried past him; not many, it wasn’t rush hour yet, but increasing and certainly enough to get annoyed at someone dithering in their way.
“Watch where you’re standing,” snapped a man with an American accent, bustling past with several suitcases. Theo skipped out of the way, catching a sharp blow to the shins nevertheless, and directed a scowl at the man’s blue-suited back.
“Same to you,” he mumbled for no real reason, and wondered vaguely if he was supposed to ask someone where the MyHunt Society was located. Perhaps there’d be a password or a sort of secret handshake…
“Can I help you, son?”
A large man with the uniform of a station employee had materialised behind him and was regarding him with the look of ingrained suspicion always worn by those in authority when presented with teenage males in jeans and hooded sweatshirts. Slightly startled, Theo turned and put on his best, most politest smile.
“Um…yes. Could you tell me how to get to the MyHunt Society HQ?”
The man’s look of suspicion sharpened and he shook his head.
“I’ve never heard of it. Are you waiting for someone?”
“Uhm…yes.”
“Then can I please ask you to sit down and wait? You’re providing an obstruction.”
Theo agreed hastily, rather embarrassed, and installed himself on one of the uncomfortable metal benches along the walls.
Various station employees then appeared from the woodwork to ensure that while he was loitering it was with entirely innocent intent.
Theo sat.
And sat.
And looked at his watch, and started swearing under his breath.
“This is stupid,” he grumbled, getting to his feet and stretching. “Probably some sort of dumb practical joke…bet there isn’t even such a thing as the MyHunt Society. Should have cottoned on when they told me to go to a station for an interv-”
“Excuse me, are you Theodore Hunt?”
It was a chirpy, enquiring voice which subsequently proved to belong to a chirpy, enquiring young woman, standing behind him and tilting her chin to look up at him. She barely came up to his chest, but stood in a way that defied anyone to mention her lack of stature. Her gaze was direct and curious, and she was wearing green eyeshadow.
Slightly disconcerted, Theo nodded.
“Um…yes.”
The young woman subjected him to a piercing stare that took in his entire appearance, and snorted.
“Not much of a Hunt,” she said cryptically, and shrugged. “Come on then.”
She turned and began to walk away. Realising he wasn’t following, she turned and beckoned.
“Theodore Hunt, right? Come to join the MyHunt Society? Follow me and I’ll take you there.”
“Oh! Oh. Right,” Theo spluttered, rushing to catch up with her. She gave him a grin that, while friendly, didn’t have much of an opinion of his intelligence and strode off confidently through the growing rush-hour crowds, Theo trailing in her wake.
They fetched up by a nondescript door that wore a vaguely threatening sign refusing to allow access to anyone not a railway employee. The young woman, with complete unconcern, pulled a key out of her pocket and fitted it in the lock. Theodore blinked.
“Uhm, miss, um…”
“Rowena,” she supplied, pushing open the door. “And don’t fuss about the door sign. Just go in.”
Theo went in.
It was a broom cupboard.
Rowena nipped in after him and shut the door, turning the light on. The low-watt bulb flickered unhappily; there wasn’t much room in the tiny space, especially with all the buckets, brooms and mops stacked about, and the pair of them were standing uncomfortably close.
There was a pause, and Theo cleared his throat.
“So why are we in a cleaning cupboard?”
“Isn’t a cleaning cupboard,” Rowena said succinctly. “It’s a lift.”
“…A lift? Where’s your base, in a nuclear bunker?”
Rowena rolled her eyes. “Don’t be stupid. It’s a secret society; it doesn’t have big headquarters with a neon sign outside.”
“But it does take out full-page ads in newspapers?”
“Vague ads. And we don’t let just anyone in.”
The conversation lapsed, leaving Theo to wonder why they’d been so agreeable about letting him in. He was hardly secret society material.
Not long after, a faint purring that Theodore hadn’t been hearing stopped, and became much more noticeable for it.
“We’re here,” Rowena announced, and pushed the door open. Relieved to be leaving the cramped, rather stuffy cleaning cupboard (it had begun to be insidiously filled with the scent of Rowena’s strong perfume, which had overwhelmed even the lingering smell of bleach and was working rather efficiently as a sinus cleaner), Theo stumbled out after her…
And walked into what he could have sworn was a Greek temple.
He couldn’t help gawping. There were pillars, Greek-style carvings, tasteful nudey statues…only the fact that it was a substantial way below ground and presumably several millennia younger made it different from the best-preserved Greek temples in, well, actual Greece.
“Sonofabitch,” he said in wonder. “How the hell is this place even possible?!”
Rowena grinned.
“Welcome to the MyHunt Society. Everyone says that.”
Friday 2 January 2009
Chapter One: Who Needs A Job?
“You are going to have to get a job.”
The words hit Theodore Hunt where it would hurt the most-his laziness. It was a large laziness, well-nurtured by a diet of pizza, television and freeloading, and it didn’t like being hurt in such a way.
He directed a pained look at the person who had committed this injury, even managing to twist round in his chair to get a better angle.
“Mum,” he said. “Why do I have to get a job?”
“Because you’re a lazy freeloader who does nothing but sit around and play those ridiculous roleplaying videogames,” said his mother, accurately. “You promised that you’d use this year out before university to get some life experience. And pay your own way.”
Darting a somewhat guilty glance towards the television screen, currently displaying the title screen of a certain popular fantasy roleplaying videogame, Theo got out of his chair and assumed a dramatic posture.
“Mother, I swear to you on my dying breath that I will get a job. A proper job, where they give you money for doing it, and possibly even a snazzy costume.”
His mother looked at him, raised an eyebrow, and then produced the local newspaper.
“All right then. Start right now.”
“…What?”
“I said start now. Take this paper, and look in it. There are ‘jobs available’ in the back. I want you to have phoned at least five of them by this afternoon and have acquired at least three interviews. I’ve ringed the ones I think would suit you.”
And with that she dropped the paper on his chair and walked out, leaving her son with his mouth hanging open in sheer shock.
The paper sat on the chair, looking accusing.
“It’s no good looking at me like that,” Theo accused, pointing at it. “This is all your fault.”
The newspaper remained silent.
“I bet you’re filled with jobs at Burger King and Matalan and, and…” he flailed around a bit, looking for the most boring job he could think of. “…toll booths!”
Once again the newspaper declined to comment.
“Well, I’m not looking at you until I’ve at least finished the first bit of this game. It’s new.”
Although the paper still said nothing, its air of reproach intensified. Theo narrowed his eyes at it, and they engaged in a rather one-sided staring match until eventually the young man’s conscience and sense of self-preservation overwhelmed his laziness and he picked it up, sat down, and opened it.
He immediately got an inkling of what sort of skills his mother believed he possessed.
“Cleaning? Supermarkets? Fast-food outlets? I’m going to uni to study history, not, not…shopping…”
Flicking rapidly through the five pages of ads, he discovered that every single ringed job was similarly uninspiring. And the ones that weren’t circled tended to either be even worse or require a first-class degree from Oxbridge and about twenty years of experience in the field.
“What a bloody gyp.”
Entirely discouraged, he mumbled rude words to himself and turned to the last page, which consisted entirely of one advertisement with lots of bold text and starbursts.
And it proved to be a lot more interesting than the others.
“’Do you want some excitement in your life?’” he read, somewhat incredulously. “’Something that’s unlike anything you’ve done before?’ Please. ‘Do you want to get into the outdoor life?’ Well, no, but mum would like it if I did…‘Do you want to dive into a fantastic adventure?’”
He paused, and looked up at the television, where a pixelated face stared at him in implacable resolve, posing in a manly way all ready to start his fantastic adventure. He was much the same as many brave, strong heroes that Theo had played over the years and secretly longed to be more like.
Theodore Hunt grinned.
“Hell yes,” he said, and dialled the number.
He was answered by a gruff male voice that demanded to know what he wanted. Slightly intimidated, he cleared his throat nervously.
“Um, I, uh, saw your advert in the paper? For, the…” he checked hastily, having not before read the name of the organisation. “…the MyHunt Society?”
“Oh yes, did you now? And why are you phoning? Want to join, do you?”
“Um…kind of, yeah.”
“Kind of? Do you want to or not? This isn’t a society for weaklings or people who can’t make their minds up. Are you a weakling?”
Stung by this blunt question, Theo straightened up and scowled at the phone.
“No I’m not! I’m Theodore Hunt and I want to join your Society!”
The voice at the other end laughed, a deep growling noise that seemed more like some kind of large aggressive animal getting angry.
“Now you show some backbone! Hmm…Hunt, is it?”
“Yessir,” Theo said smartly.
“Hunt…yes. Definitely come along. Can you make four o’clock?”
“Yes,” Theo said without hesitation, looking at the clock. It read half-past three, but then it had for the last six years. “What’s the address?”
“Come to Paddington Station. Someone will meet you there.”
And with an abrupt click, the line cut off.
“Paddington Station? Why Paddington Station?” Theo mused, replacing the handset. “Seems like an odd sort of place to run an organisation…”
The words hit Theodore Hunt where it would hurt the most-his laziness. It was a large laziness, well-nurtured by a diet of pizza, television and freeloading, and it didn’t like being hurt in such a way.
He directed a pained look at the person who had committed this injury, even managing to twist round in his chair to get a better angle.
“Mum,” he said. “Why do I have to get a job?”
“Because you’re a lazy freeloader who does nothing but sit around and play those ridiculous roleplaying videogames,” said his mother, accurately. “You promised that you’d use this year out before university to get some life experience. And pay your own way.”
Darting a somewhat guilty glance towards the television screen, currently displaying the title screen of a certain popular fantasy roleplaying videogame, Theo got out of his chair and assumed a dramatic posture.
“Mother, I swear to you on my dying breath that I will get a job. A proper job, where they give you money for doing it, and possibly even a snazzy costume.”
His mother looked at him, raised an eyebrow, and then produced the local newspaper.
“All right then. Start right now.”
“…What?”
“I said start now. Take this paper, and look in it. There are ‘jobs available’ in the back. I want you to have phoned at least five of them by this afternoon and have acquired at least three interviews. I’ve ringed the ones I think would suit you.”
And with that she dropped the paper on his chair and walked out, leaving her son with his mouth hanging open in sheer shock.
The paper sat on the chair, looking accusing.
“It’s no good looking at me like that,” Theo accused, pointing at it. “This is all your fault.”
The newspaper remained silent.
“I bet you’re filled with jobs at Burger King and Matalan and, and…” he flailed around a bit, looking for the most boring job he could think of. “…toll booths!”
Once again the newspaper declined to comment.
“Well, I’m not looking at you until I’ve at least finished the first bit of this game. It’s new.”
Although the paper still said nothing, its air of reproach intensified. Theo narrowed his eyes at it, and they engaged in a rather one-sided staring match until eventually the young man’s conscience and sense of self-preservation overwhelmed his laziness and he picked it up, sat down, and opened it.
He immediately got an inkling of what sort of skills his mother believed he possessed.
“Cleaning? Supermarkets? Fast-food outlets? I’m going to uni to study history, not, not…shopping…”
Flicking rapidly through the five pages of ads, he discovered that every single ringed job was similarly uninspiring. And the ones that weren’t circled tended to either be even worse or require a first-class degree from Oxbridge and about twenty years of experience in the field.
“What a bloody gyp.”
Entirely discouraged, he mumbled rude words to himself and turned to the last page, which consisted entirely of one advertisement with lots of bold text and starbursts.
And it proved to be a lot more interesting than the others.
“’Do you want some excitement in your life?’” he read, somewhat incredulously. “’Something that’s unlike anything you’ve done before?’ Please. ‘Do you want to get into the outdoor life?’ Well, no, but mum would like it if I did…‘Do you want to dive into a fantastic adventure?’”
He paused, and looked up at the television, where a pixelated face stared at him in implacable resolve, posing in a manly way all ready to start his fantastic adventure. He was much the same as many brave, strong heroes that Theo had played over the years and secretly longed to be more like.
Theodore Hunt grinned.
“Hell yes,” he said, and dialled the number.
He was answered by a gruff male voice that demanded to know what he wanted. Slightly intimidated, he cleared his throat nervously.
“Um, I, uh, saw your advert in the paper? For, the…” he checked hastily, having not before read the name of the organisation. “…the MyHunt Society?”
“Oh yes, did you now? And why are you phoning? Want to join, do you?”
“Um…kind of, yeah.”
“Kind of? Do you want to or not? This isn’t a society for weaklings or people who can’t make their minds up. Are you a weakling?”
Stung by this blunt question, Theo straightened up and scowled at the phone.
“No I’m not! I’m Theodore Hunt and I want to join your Society!”
The voice at the other end laughed, a deep growling noise that seemed more like some kind of large aggressive animal getting angry.
“Now you show some backbone! Hmm…Hunt, is it?”
“Yessir,” Theo said smartly.
“Hunt…yes. Definitely come along. Can you make four o’clock?”
“Yes,” Theo said without hesitation, looking at the clock. It read half-past three, but then it had for the last six years. “What’s the address?”
“Come to Paddington Station. Someone will meet you there.”
And with an abrupt click, the line cut off.
“Paddington Station? Why Paddington Station?” Theo mused, replacing the handset. “Seems like an odd sort of place to run an organisation…”
So, yeah.
This blog is a product of being annoyed with Fictionpress.com and wanting somewhere to put a story in the vague hopes of it acquiring one or two readers that may force me to actually finish it, something I have never done with a proper full-length actual story. It is also a product of a friend of mine who directed me, someone who has never actually so much as read a blog before, to this website.
The title of this blog is also the working title for the story...i.e, something I came up with on the fly off the top of my head. I am not very good at making up titles.
Don't ask about the 'Paddington Station' bit. I suspect it's some kind of subconcious reference to Platform 9-and-three-quarters, which is annoying because I don't even much like Harry Potter.
That, or it's the first thing that popped into my head that sounded good.
As you may have guessed from reading this, I tend to ramble, so I'm going to shut up now.
The first section of the actual story will probably be posted soon enough, once I finish it.
Which could take anywhere up to six months, naturally.
TTFN!
The title of this blog is also the working title for the story...i.e, something I came up with on the fly off the top of my head. I am not very good at making up titles.
Don't ask about the 'Paddington Station' bit. I suspect it's some kind of subconcious reference to Platform 9-and-three-quarters, which is annoying because I don't even much like Harry Potter.
That, or it's the first thing that popped into my head that sounded good.
As you may have guessed from reading this, I tend to ramble, so I'm going to shut up now.
The first section of the actual story will probably be posted soon enough, once I finish it.
Which could take anywhere up to six months, naturally.
TTFN!
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