A Battle My Own part 3

They spoke to each other, they simply didn't speak. Nothing of deep importance passed between them. The weather, food, prices, a little politics, passed between them, but they did not speak of Lorin's unleashing of the Anathema on Gwyne. They did not speak of his drinking, or anger, or....hate.
They drove to her family reunion. Made the rounds, had dinner and drove back to Gwyne's apartment, talking of things they had experienced.
The wound was formed. A wound between them. When had it happened, this changing of feeling, of heart? A finger could not be placed exactly on it, it had come so subtly, so quietly, that it grew and only did they know it at a great size.
It frightened him, but Lorin realized with insane clarity that he did not love Gwyne as he had. In fact, he did not love her at all. But he needed her, now more than ever. She was the only one who could be he wife, marry him, and bear his children. Why did he need her? He was not sure, but he could do nothing to ruffle her confidence in him. So he whispered words of love and saw her to the door, before returning to his own thoughts and driving to his own apartment.
He had work to do. He needed for formulate a plan for Yarmen caDia's demise. He would twist every drop of life from that man. But not before he had learned exactly how Yarmen had gotten through the prison walls to kill Avery. That was his quest, his mission. He had to know, had to have vengeance, had to quench his hate.
It was wrong, he knew it. But he had to do it, his hate demanded it.
He fell asleep that night easily. He knew when to strike and were, he knew the how's and why's. It was planned. It would be executed. 1

2

Landor diKeurl sat at his dinner. It was lobster tonight; lobster with wine and sauce. He received the best, he always did: that was one of the benefits of being a Seibacian. He was tall, like most Seibacians, but he had fair hair and eyes that spoke of tainting in the bloodline. Some ancient donor released her genes in his pool, but the impurity did not bother him. He was used to it; it made him far more formidable.
The waitress approached his table and handed him a note, 'from a man out-front'. He took it and dismissed her with a nod; opening the hastily written note, he read the contents and then refolded it. Taking out his cell phone he dialed and waited.
"Collings here." The line picked up.
"I got your message, when does he move?" diKeurl's voice was harsh and guttural from years of smoking.
"Its hard to say with Horst. Definitely within the week he'll have caDia in a death trap. But it might actually take longer for him to die, depending on how much Horst hates him and how much he wants to know who killed Avery."
"Yes..." diKeurl savored his impending victory.”What of that reporter- erh, erh, Wood something or other?"
"I've got a confirmation that she is a Seibacian, but under whom, I have yet to learn."
"Well do it! And do it fast. Time's starting to run out. There is only a week till the wedding."
"Yes, sir." Collings was no Seibacian; he didn't half to call diKeurl 'Lord'.
diKeurl snapped the phone shut and went back to his lobster and wine. But a slightly short, stocky man came and sat at his table, sliding an envelope across as he did so. diKeurl picked up it, opened it and glanced at it's contents. "This is all?"
"Yes." Answered the other man. "All I know, I swear."
diKeurl nodded. "What of your daughter."
The man hesitated. "I only said what was necessary to keep her with him."
Landor scowled now. "You are not to mention our transactions here, Mr. Havvock."
"I said nothing of you. I only asked her to stay with him."
He was silent for a long time before nodding at the sniveling little man. "Fine. Go, and do not let me see your face again." 3

Gwyne dialed the number and wiped her tears and it rang. When a familiar voice picked up the other end, she struggled to get her voice under her control. 'Aunt Linda?"
"Gwyne?"
"Yes."
"What's wrong?"
She broke down. "I just can't do it, Linda! I can't! I almost don't care what I'll do to dad and mom. Lorin is becoming a monster! He's always angry, always hateful and preoccupied. He never listens to me and I can't go on like this!"
"I know, I know."
"What am I going to do? What is happening to him? He wasn't like this before his last trip."
"Something happened, and we need to find out what."
"How?" Gwyne stood and paced.
Linda sighed. "The Seiba."
"Why them?"
"You know why."
Gwyne sighed as well. "I don't know how to contact them."
"I do. diJavic took me into confidence once. Come up tomorrow, we'll go see her then."
"And find answers?" Gwyne stopped pacing and stared out the window. "I need answers, reasons to go on with this."
"I can't promise what she will and will not know, Gwyne. But I do believe that a conversation with a Seibacian is never for naught."
"Tomorrow then."
"Tomorrow."4


riciiyr llarhd he yncle
iiwl bragui aorn
Aheil lainn
I treluj i ania lujiir
iwl chadia rept annoj. 5

Little Children be afraid.
The one path is forgotten
Evil corrupts love
The voice of the rain is silenced
our cursedness is without number.6

7

Linda was ready when Gwyne pulled into the drive. She came out, keys in hand and motioned Gwyne into her car. "Hurry or we'll be late."
Gwyne grabbed her purse, turned her engine off, locked and got out and into Linda's car. Both were silent as they pulled out of the drive. What could they say? They were going to talk to a woman, who had a history of lying and manipulative ways, about something, someone, who they knew very little about. Linda was confident that diJavic could be trusted. Gwyne, on the other hand, was not so sure. Yes, diJavic had won her war through the council of the Seiba, but did she not still crave power?
There were no answers.
Half an hour of driving brought them to a public library in the city. After parking and walking a bock to the doors, the pare found their way to a study table in the farthest corner of the basement. Phoebe diJavic was there. As beautiful as ever, and just as unpredictable. She had a laptop open before her and was slowly, methodically typing away at it. She glanced up as the two approached and slowly closed the computer, laying her hands on top of it. She nodded at them as they sat across from her.
She said nothing. They said nothing. They studied each other’s face, sometimes nothing more than the complexion, sometimes searching and clawing for what was beneath the surface.
Finally, Phoebe broke the silence. "Lorin."
"Lorin." Gwyne answered. "What is happening?"
Phoebe took up a paper from the side of the laptop, handing it to Gwyne as she spoke. "There always was a chance of this happening. We had experienced a few cases in the Anathemas before him."
Gwyne glanced at the paper. Parts of it were written in Seibacian, and were no use to her. But the English was mainly lists of people, places, and dates. The Anathema's before Lorin. "How many total?"
Phoebe shrugged. "Fifty. Maybe more."
Linda raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
"We are a very, very old people." Phoebe answered the unsaid question. "We have existed long before the Greeks or Romans. And we happen to document very well." She paused. "There were four known case of the abnormality in the Anathema. If there was more than that, we did not know, the subject probably died before symptoms revealed themselves."
"What symptoms?" Gwyne asked, bewildered. "What abnormalities? What exactly is happening to him?"
"The process of creating the Anathema is a very complex one. It involves some changing of the subject's genetics to allow for the physical and spirituals needs of the anathema. And there are times when the changes are incomplete, or are more than necessary. In such cases, the subject either deteriorates quickly, or the Anathema is excelled in growth. In Lorin's case, I would say I underestimated the expansion and recession of his cells during puberty and thus the Anathema code has room to grow, expand, unchecked."
Gwyne shook her head. "Wait, so what your saying is that the Thing, Anathema, is growing in Lorin? Is that why I felt it in his voice?"
"Yes." Phoebe nodded. "It hasn't taken over his voice completely. That won't happen for a few weeks at least. But after that, the rest comes quickly. The fear will become a feeling, a stench that follows him wherever he goes. He won't be able to escape it or undo it. He'll affect those around him without trying." She sat back and sighed. "We had one who got that far. When she realized that she had become akin to a monster, she ran off into the mountains. We found her the next day at the bottom of a cliff. She had jumped to save her soul, her mind. For the fear will eventually overtake even that; so there is nothing left but fear. Terrible, horrible fear. Evil fear. So our stories tell it."
They were all silent for a long minute. They didn't want to speak. Indeed how could they? How can a person speak after learning of the end of a life? What is there to do? What can be said, are there words of comfort that can gentle the killing blow? No. Nothing. So they were silent.
Finally, Phoebe spoke. "Come, you must meet someone." She stood abruptly, gathered up her papers and computer and strode towards the exit. Bewildered, Gwyne and Linda followed. She led them outside, through an alleyway and down several blocks. They entered an apartment building and Phoebe keyed in an entrance code. Up an elevator and down a corridor until they came to number 74.
Phoebe knocked with the knocker under the golden numbers. After a moment, the door opened. It was a young man who stood on the other side. The same one who had been with Phoebe in the Cafe the other day. He wore the baseball hat and jacket, for it was cold even here.
Linda saw him, looked. Then looked again. Finally she let out a little scream and then fell on him in a collapsed version of a hug.
Gwyne saw him, knew him. And said nothing, but a tear fell down her face.
How could it be? After all this time? After all this pain, could it really be?
Oh, wouldn't Lorin be in for a surprise. Gwyne thought.8

9


Lorin grunted as he hefted the body bag onto his shoulder and slammed his trunk shut. It was dark and silent. He could not be seen, the other buildings shielded him. He turned to the boarded up brick house and hauled his burden there.
He had bought this building for purposes just like this. This room had been refitted for purposes just like this. He was glad he had prepared for what he would do in his life. Thee years ago, he hadn't envisioned brining an unconscious man into his building, but rather thought to use it as a training ground. A hideout, a safe place. The life insurance money had come in handy after all. This building was the first thing he purchased after graduating high school.
He had obtained a full scholarship to a big Ivy League college, and his job paid well; so he had obtained this old house. It was almost condemned to be demolished, but Lorin bought it, and fitted it for his own purposes.
He punched in a code and the box's light turned green. The door swung open and Lorin hefted his burden inside. He slammed the door closed and dropped the body bag on the floor. A grunt-groan came from the bundle; Lorin, who had been catching his breath, turned and angrily gave the bag a kick. Then, stooping, he dragged the bag across the floor to a metal door. He unlocked it with a key, and pulled the bag inside. Being careful to let the door open. He open the bag and spilled it's continents on the floor.
Yarmen caDia groaned as he fell out of the bag. He was dirty, and covered with scrapes and bruises. Lorin stood a secant, looking at him. He was so very plain. So ordinary. Who would have thought that this man could be so evil, so despicable and carry out a plan to destroy a family. He was capable of it. Lorin knew.
Maybe that sniveling little clerk lied. Lorin thought. He would say anything to save his skin. He mulled this over a minute.
CaDia was suppose to be dead before the week's end. Before the wedding. But if that sniveling caYair was lying about diRothe not ordering Avery's death, then Lorin would need to know the truth from Yarmen. But he wouldn't have time to extract everything possible from Yarmen before the wedding on Saturday. Should he let him live a little longer? Should he? Collings would not know. He didn't know about this place. He would take Lorin's word that Yarmen caDia was dead.
Nine days you will half to live before I come back to you, murderer. Lorin stepped out of the room. He returned with water. caDia could live for a week without food. The room was fitted with a toilet and a mattress in the corner. The rest was bare. Sealed. No way out. The door had a knob on the inside, but that did you no good unless you had the key, for it locked every time it was closed. Yes, caDia could live in this cell for nine days.
Lorin gathered up the body bag, searched Yarmen once more for anything he could use to escape, satisfied, he turned and left, closing the door behind him. He hesitated for a moment. It was pit black in that room. No night, no day. Just dark. Dark with no sounds. Nine days of that would do far more than just break any man. He would be rendered inept. Lorin needed Yarmen in his right mind for at least some time. Sighing, he flipped a switched by the door. One light bulb from the ceiling. Perpetual day was better than perpetual night.
Lorin turned and left the boarded, brick house. In two days he was getting married. In two days he would receive what he had been craving for ever so long. Two days, and he could forget the Anathema and be himself.
Two days...Two days and it will be sealed.
10


Gwyne locked the door to her apartment, ran into her bedroom and collapsed onto the bed. She let out then took in a shaky breath. Tears burned at her eyes. She clutched the bedcovers and just tried to breathe slow and even. She couldn't. Tears spilled from here eyes and sobs racked her body.
It was so much. So hard. So fast. Things she hadn't thought possible were happening to her.
And she couldn't say a word.
Phoebe, and the young man, had sworn Gwyne and Linda so silence and secrecy. 'The time is not yet right, Gwyne. He is not yet ready. But soon. After the wedding. There will be questions, many, many questions. We must get him to think, to remember; otherwise we will lose him completely.'
The young man's voice still sounded in her head. There had been such sorrow in his eyes at the time that Gwyne could almost feel her heart break for him. It was very hard for him; harder than it was for her.
But these matters did not bother her as did other things. After they had departed the apartment of the young man, Phoebe had sent Linda home, taking Gwyne in her car. They had driven in silence for a time before Phoebe broke it.
"Do you love Lorin?"
Gwyne, startled by the question hesitated. "I believe so...yes."
"You do not convince me."
"At least I know I did at one point. But since then, so many things have changed, Lorin's changed. He has not been who he was. Who I loved."
Phoebe nodded and was silent for a small time. "Would you carry his child?"
"Must you always be so direct?" Gwyne grew irritated.
"Yes, please answer the question."
"Yes." Gwyne sighed. "I would."
Phoebe's brow darkened. "That would not do."
"What do you mean?"
"DNA."
"Explain yourself."
"Lorin's DNA. He would pass on the genetic markers and changes that make him Anathema. Now, we've never had an incident in our history where an Anathema did have a child, so we do not know what the effects would be. But Seiba Haurd has discussed it and there must be no chances." Phoebe reached into the back seat and brought out a small box, handing it to Gwyne. "There must be no child, Gwyne."
Gwyne's spirit revolted, but she forced herself to take the box and be silent.
And now, lying in bed, her face in her pillow, Gwyne screamed at Phoebe diJavic. She screamed at Yarman caDia, Ligment, diRothe and every other Seibacian who had destroyed Avery, Lorin, and now herself.
After a time, Gwyne's anger died away and she just sobbed. She had so many things to do for the wedding, but for now, she just had to weep.11