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NOTE: These stories are
intended for a mature audience.

Sacrificium Memoriae
A "Kendrick" Story
By
Jennifer Brozek
Start at the beginning of the Kendrick series

Karen sat in what she had thought to be a prime spot by the dance floor at Bacchanalia. It was near the bar, the bathrooms, and had a great view of the dance floor. When she was not dancing, she was people watching.  She never understood why this table was always the last to fill up until now. The strobe lights made frequent passes over the table, temporarily blinding those sitting there if they happened to be looking in the wrong direction. 

At this point, she did not mind. She had figured out the timing of the lights and would close her eyes when they flashed her way. Otherwise, she would watch the dancers on the dance floor, nodding her head to the music, sipping her raspberry flavored drink called "Blood Tears." All of the drinks here had pretentious names like "Mortal Coil," "Dante's Folly," and "Foxglove Fix." It was part of the club's charm. Karen smiled at the most recent memory of dance floor pageantry.

With her eyes closed, feeling the pulse of the music and sensing the lights flashing, she could still see them in her mind's eye: Shirtless Guy and Lace Girl. She did not know their names. That did not matter. Shirtless Guy had come out on the dance floor first. Long hair braided, sunglasses on, black jeans and, of course, no shirt. His style of dance was one of a modified kata. Hard edges with fast intricate movements that drew the eye. Lace Girl had come out later when there were more dancers. She wore a strapless satin dress with a lace overlay. She was pure sensuality with a cross of belly dancing undulations and Egyptian arm motions. Two very different styles of dance until their eyes met.

Karen had seen that moment of glances meeting and mingling. Instead of the usual break, the two had shifted closer, modifying their dances. His softened. Hers gained an edge. The two complemented each other.  At first, it was just the pleasure of the dance. Then, it subtly shifted into courtship with a permissive tilt of her head and playful smile that was returned in kind. Thus, the back and forth chase had begun.  It was still going on when she opened her eyes again. Through the crowd, she could see the two of them and they were a joy to watch.

A touch to her shoulder took her attention from the dance floor.  Lamiel was standing there in her usual gothic Victorian finery. Her recovery from being thrown off the 16th Street Bridge had been amazingly quick. Karen suspected magic but did not ask. She had become quite good at selective curiosity. The music was loud enough that Lamiel did not try to speak out by the dance floor. Instead, she beckoned Karen to follow her towards the back of the club. 

It was unusual for Lamiel to approach her directly. If she or the Bacchanalia Cabal (as they called themselves) needed to get anything to or from Reginald, it was sent through Susan or Aaron.  Otherwise, Lamiel seemed to regard her as an interesting, though possibly dangerous, bug. Karen's stomach started doing flip-flops as they passed the Smoke Room and headed into parts of the club she had never been to before.  She wondered what weirdness she was going to learn of now. Every time she thought she had a handle on Kendrick and the supernatural forces within it, she discovered she really knew nothing at all. Sometimes, it was tiring.

Lamiel opened a door marked "Private" and led her inside. It was a small hallway with four doors, two on each side. She opened the first one on the right to reveal a mundane looking office and a young red-haired woman in normal gothic finery and make-up. Lamiel closed the door and sat behind the desk, gesturing for both Karen and the other girl to sit.

"Normally," Lamiel began without greeting or preamble, "I would not involve myself in a matter like this.  However, Heather," She gestured to the other girl, "asked me to and she is a part of the Cabal. Also, I owe you and your master my life.  Normally, I would let the two of you work this out on your own."

Karen bristled at Reginald being referred to as her 'master.' Master of the City or not, he was not her master. She worked with him because she chose to. She crossed her arms over her chest. "Work what out?"

Both Heather and Lamiel heard the defensive aggression in her voice. Lamiel raised a hand in a calming gesture, realizing how the situation must seem. Heather spoke first, her words coming in a rush. "It's nothing bad. I need help. I thought... I heard... You saved Lamiel. I thought you could... I just need help. Please."

"Heather is going to ask a service of you and of Reginald. It is for her alone and not for the Bacchanalia Cabal." Lamiel added. "I'm sorry if it seemed otherwise. She didn't know how to approach you."

Karen relaxed a little and focused on Heather. "I see. What's up?"

"A couple weeks back, you were involved in finding the body of that little girl at the old Colman School. I used to go to that school. It was a long time ago. I had a favorite teacher who taught there, Professor Chapman." Heather frowned at the memories in her head. "That guy, Vice Principal Rutherford who committed suicide, he was there, too. He was guilty of everything they said he was guilty of. I know because I was his next victim. I was to be his special girl. He told me this. Told me if I told anyone there would be big trouble for me and for my family. Professor Chapman found me crying in a stairwell. I told him everything and he said he'd protect me. He would make sure that the VP didn't touch me.  The next thing I know, I'm transferred to a new school and the old school was shut down. Professor Chapman was also transferred but he never showed up. He's been missing for nine years. But, a couple weeks ago, I saw him! I talked to him. He was a bum over by the City Center. He didn't know me. He didn't know himself. It was awful. Like talking to the twin of a man you didn't know had a twin."

Karen was saddened by the girl's obvious pain but unsure what Heather wanted her to do about it. "Did you contact his family or the authorities? I'm sure someone would want to know."

"I tried but the City wouldn't let me. I don't why not."

"The... City... wouldn't let you?"

"No. The City wouldn't. Every time I tried to call someone, the circuits were busy. If I tried to walk to some place, the lights would go against me and doors would stick.  Anytime I tried to alert anyone, everything went against me. The City was telling me to stop. But, I couldn't. So, I went to see the Lady of the Gray Manor for tea. She told me what had happened and what was happening. That's why I need your help."

Beyond her questions about the 'City' working against someone (which did make sense in a way - she would have to think about that) and who the Lady of the Gray Manor was, Karen wanted to know what she was supposed to do about this. "OK. What is happening to Professor Chapman and what is it that you think I can do about it?"

"He sacrificed his life to the Transitory Tunnel to save me from VP Rutherford. I want you to get it back for him. Him. His life. His memories."

"What? How am I supposed to do that?"

Lamiel broke in at this point. "This is part of the reason I agreed to set up the meeting. There are things in the City that aren't well known. For most people, the Transitory Tunnel is just a bike tunnel that goes under the 101 Freeway. For those who are more aware, it is a place where lost memories are... stored. Or go. I don't know for sure.

"It is a place that leads to many other places but most of them are still here in Kendrick. It's hard to explain. The best way I can think to explain it is a series of cellophane sheets. If they are all together on top of each other, they look like one sheet.  But, if you look closer, each sheet has something different drawn on it.  The Transitory Tunnel is hole that punches through the stack of them. If you go through the tunnel and are aware, you can slip into any of these other worlds. It's the coming back that might be difficult."

"Please, Karen. I can't do it myself. I would if I could; but since it was me he sacrificed himself for I can't. I don't understand it but that's part of the rules."

Karen nodded slowly. "Let me talk to Reginald about the situation." She pulled her phone out of her pocket and saw that there was no cell signal. "I'll need to go outside. Mind if I go out the back?"

Lamiel nodded. "It'll be safe."

Heather touched her arm, "Thank you."

"I haven't agreed to anything, yet."

"I know but you're considering it and I appreciate that. Professor Chapman is a good man."

She did not answer. She left the office and exited the hallway through the back. Instead of a dirty back alley, she found herself on a small, well lit street. Her phone indicated she had full signal again.  She had never tried this but she was gambling that it would work.  Going back to her incoming calls list, she found the entry called REGINALD. She selected it and pressed the SEND button. 

The other end rang twice before picking up. "Hello, Karen."

"Oh, cool. It worked."

"You have always been able to contact me if you wanted to."

"You didn't tell me I could."

"You had to want to bad enough.  What can I do for you?"

She quickly explained the situation of Heather and Professor Chapman. "Do you know anything about it?"

"Yes. I do. Heather was right that the City was stopping her. It is part of the magic. Those rules I told you about. The only thing that can bring Professor Chapman back from where he has gone is another sacrifice; not like the one he gave but still, it is a sacrifice." He paused. "The tunnel is dangerous. I don't really want you to do this."

"Why not?"

"You can get lost in there. I've seen it happen too many times. It's too dangerous and your actions may have unforeseen consequences."

"Like what?"

"I'm not sure. That is why they are 'unforeseen.'"

She was certain there was something he was not telling her. Between that and her irritation over the impression that Reginald was her master, the decision was made. This time she was going to do what she thought was right. "A man gave his life to protect a child who was not even his own. I'm going to help her. Are you going to help me or do I need to do this by myself?"

There was another pause. Longer this time. "I will help you, Karen. You know I will. But, I really wish you would not do this."

She did not respond.

"Call me tomorrow night after you get off work. I will tell you what you need to do to find him.  Get a picture of Heather from that age, as well as a picture of him. I want you to spend the rest of your time thinking about your past, who you are and how you got to this place in your life. I need you to have a good sense of self."

"Thank you."

"I will speak to you tomorrow."

They said their good-byes. Karen headed back inside.  Lamiel and Heather were still in the office.  "I'm going to do this, Heather, but it is just me.  Reginald is not involved." That last bit of information caused Lamiel's eyebrows to rise in surprise - or interest or both.

"Oh, thank you! What do I owe you for this?"

Karen shook her head. "Nothing. It's the right thing to do."

"She has to owe you." Lamiel said. "I'd like to let it go and think that Heather got off easy, but I can't because of what I owe you. Favors are not free. Not in this city."

For a long moment she said nothing. "Ok, Heather. A favor for a favor of equal value to be determined in the future."

"Done." Heather responded without hesitation.

Lamiel sighed and looked heavenward. "Thank the Light neither of you seems to know what you're actually doing. Heather, remind me to tell you about the time I agreed to an open-ended favor. You'll see why this is a bad idea."

***

Karen approached the well lit bike tunnel cautiously.  She had done as Reginald had asked and spent many hours thinking about whom she was and why she did what she did.  She found it strange that she could distill most of her actions and why she was the way she was down to a few pivotal memories.

The first memory, and one she did not really like to think about, was the death of her maternal grandmother, Grammy Luton. She had been about six years old when it happened. She could still remember it as if it happened yesterday.

"9-1-1. What is the nature of your emergency?"

"I need my mommy!"

"What's your name, honey?"

"Karen Wilson. My mommy's Kimberly. She said to call 9-1-1 if anything happened. Grammy went to sleep and I can't wake her up."

My name is Tammy. I'm going to stay on the phone with you. OK?"

"Ok."

"Can you tell me about your Grammy and her going to sleep?"

"We were in the kitchen. She said her arm hurt then she sat down on the ground. Then she went to sleep. I can't wake her up. We're supposed to be cooking dinner."

"Everything is going to be all right, Karen. There are people on the way to your house right now who will help you and your Grammy. Ok?"

"Ok."

But, of course, everything had not been Ok. The police and an ambulance had arrived. They had whisked her grandmother away with lights flashing and sirens going, but it had been too late. A police officer had gathered Karen up in her arms and shielded her from most of the chaos. Her mother had been given permission to leave the emergency services call center and arrived shortly after the ambulance left. Through her tears, she had praised Karen for her bravery and told her she did the right thing.

It was at that moment that Karen decided that she wanted to be just like Tammy and her parents; to be that calm voice on the other end of the line when bad things happened. That was why she was a 911 Operator today.

The other memory that kept popping in her head was of her twelfth birthday. She had had a big party and, at the last moment, had decided to invite one of her less popular neighbors, Ernie.  Most of the neighborhood kids avoided Ernie because of his stuttering problem. Otherwise, they picked on him. There had been the usual girlish squeals of disbelief when Karen mentioned this to her friends the day before the party. They all wanted to know why she would do such a thing. Karen's response had been "Why not? He's a person, too." That stopped the rest of the protests right there.

The next day, when Ernie arrived at the party, there was small amount of awkwardness between Ernie and the other kids who had always either ignored or taunted him. But, Karen's open acceptance of him had broken down a lot of barriers.  Towards the end of the party, Ernie found Karen in the kitchen by herself getting more drinks.

He held up a small white box to her. "I wanted to th-th-thank you for inviting me to your birthday party, K-Karen. No one's been that nice to me in a long time. I g-got you this. I was g-going to g-g-g-give it to you tomorrow but since I'm here... here."

She smiled at him. "Thanks for coming." Then, she blinked in surprise at the silver bracelet. She held it up and read the charm dangling from it. "Joy" was written on one side. "Hope" was written on the other. "Wow. This is so pretty."

"I th-thought of you when I s-s-saw it. You're always so nice to everyone. You g-g-give people chances."

The two of them had smiled at each other and returned to the party; Karen wearing the bracelet. She had endured a certain amount of taunting but she refused to remove the bracelet.  It was a reminder to her that everyone deserved a chance. Everyone had feelings and she should always keep that in mind.  She still wore the bracelet to this day. At this point, it was a talisman for patience and serenity. It reminded her to think about where the other person was coming from.

There were many more memories swirling in her head as she approached the bike tunnel. From her point of view it looked like a long tunnel under the freeway. It was just as she expected: debris here and there; graffiti all over the walls; and that smell of humanity - waste, sweat, tears and general living.

She stopped at the entrance. There was no one else around. It was quiet. At this time of night, the cars on the freeway were few and far in-between. Karen prepared herself as Reginald had instructed. She had the picture of Heather in her pocket to use to convince James of who he was. She held the picture of Professor James Chapman in her hand, looking at it.  All she had to do was think of finding the lost man and walk to the end of the tunnel. If it worked, he would be there. If it did not, she would be on the other side of the freeway and would have to try again. Throughout this, she had to make sure she did not lose track of herself. She was not exactly certain what that meant but the warning had made her nervous.

Karen took a breath, looked at the picture of the lost man and start walking. As she crossed the entrance, she began to whisper to herself, "I am looking for James Chapman: Language professor - Greek, Latin, Spanish and Italian.  I am looking for James Chapman: Language professor - Greek, Latin, Spanish and Italian."

Immediately, she felt the world shift. The tunnel seemed to tilt about thirty degrees and grow longer. She kept walking as she repeated her mantra, flicking her eyes between the picture in her hand and the light at the end of the tunnel. Sounds filled her ears. She knew she was no longer alone. The smells changed, the walls changed, even the sound of her feel crunching on the ground changed.

Then, the images of other people and other places began.  They almost startled her into stopping - the one thing that Reginald most strongly warned her against doing.  Suddenly, she understood why he had not wanted her to come. They were all around her as indistinct shapes. Then, one would bubble to the surface in perfect clarity.

"I am looking for James Chapman..."

A boy and a girl of about nine skipped by in old fashioned clothing, waving at her. They looked like they were skipping across a bridge.

"Language professor: Greek, Latin, Spanish and Italian."

A group of rough boys looking like extras from a bad modern day vampire movie kept pace with her, leering at her. One beckoned to her.

She turned from him back to the picture in her hand and saw the bracelet she wore. She kept walking. "I am Karen Wilson. I'm looking for James Chapman. Professor of Language. Greek. Latin. Spanish. Italian."

The sound of hooves pounded on dirt behind her. She risked a glance back and saw a man in uniform on horseback galloping towards her. "Oh God!" She started to run. "I'm looking for James Chapman! James Chapman!" The sound of the horse came closer. "I am Karen Wilson. The horse is not here. Not here. I am here. I give people chances. I help people. That's what I do. I help people. I am here and I am looking for James Chapman! Professor! Greek, Latin, Spanish, Italian!"

Abruptly, the sound of the horse was gone and an old gentleman appeared beside her. "Miss? Miss? I seem to have lost my way..."

It was almost worse than horse threatening to pummel her into paste.  The old gentleman looked so tired. If she stopped to help him, she would be lost with him. "I am looking for Professor James Chapman." She responded in an apologetic voice and turned from him, her heart breaking. She strode towards the light, ignoring his desperate pleas for assistance.

The moment she crossed over the exit of the tunnel, everything else went away. She was still in Kendrick. That much was certain and she was not alone. There were several bums standing around a barrel of burning trash. She looked at each, comparing them to the picture in her hand. It was hard to see the faces under the beards, grim and weight of the years but she found him.  With a touch to his arm, she said, "Professor Chapman. I've come to bring you home."

The man turned and looked at her. "Aren't you a dear? You shouldn't be out this time of night, Miss. It's not safe."

"I know, Professor Chapman, but I've come to take you home. I've been sent by Heather."

"I don't know any Heather and I'm no Professor. I'm just... me. You haven't seen a black and white kitten around here, have you? I think I lost him."

"No. I'm sorry. But, you are Professor James Chapman. See?" She held up her picture of him.

He took it and smiled. "I almost can remember..." He frowned. "Handsome guy. Not me." He handed it back and turned away.

"Wait. Do you remember this girl? This is Heather. This is the girl you saved."  She pulled Heather's picture from her pocket and thrust it into his hand. "This is the girl who sent me to bring you home. This is the girl you sacrificed yourself for."

It was like watching an old engine finally catch and start up. The vague ignorance shifted into surprised remembrance at the sight of the girl in the picture. "Heather. Oh, Heather! She's all right? He didn't hurt her? It worked?"

Karen smiled. "Yes, Professor. It did. She's now a beautiful young woman and she would be here for you herself if she could. It's time for you to come home."

James nodded. "I feel like I've been dreaming for so long. But, the City has been taking care of me. It's been good to me. Protecting me like I protected her."

"No doubt." She offered her hand. "Shall we go?"

He nodded, taking her hand.

"Don't let go. No matter what happens, don't let go." She led him towards the entrance of the tunnel and was dismayed to find it bricked up. She stood there, staring at it, wondering what to do since Reginald had not mentioned this.

"What will you give up?" The voice came from the wall in front of her.

"What?"

"You cannot take something from here without leaving something behind. If you take his memory back with you, you must sacrifice part of yourself. That is the only way. The balance must be maintained."

"I choose what is to be sacrificed? What memory?"

"Yes. It will be gone from you completely."

She frowned, thinking about her life. She looked at the picture of Heather, the little girl she once was, then back at the man who gave up his life for her. Unforeseen consequences, indeed.  Her decision did not take long. In a way, she had subconsciously suspected something that something like this was going to happen. Karen chose and nodded. "I agree to the sacrifice."

The brick wall fell away without a sound. She could see the other end of the tunnel and prayed that it would not be the same as before.  "Remember, James, you are James Chapman: Language professor."

"Greek, Latin, Spanish and Italian." He responded. "I remember now."

"Don't let go. Whatever happens."

"I won't. I promise."

She led him back through the tunnel. This time no one tried to stop them or lure them from the chosen path. She could feel the ghosts of others all around her but ignored them. Her goal was the end of that tunnel. Her sacrifice made.  Karen stumbled and fell to the ground as they exited the tunnel again. James immediately helped her up. She smiled at him. "Thanks. We need to let people know that you've been found; that you're alive and well. I know who to call." 

She called David, told him about finding the Professor and asked for an officer to drop by to help out. The police would take custody of the wayward Professor and deal with the necessary paperwork for reintroducing him back into society.  Also, she wanted him to come take her home. It had been a very trying night. She needed someone to just hold her for a while.

As they waited for everyone to arrive, she called Bacchanalia and left a message with Lamiel that she had succeeded and to please let Heather know. Finally, she called Reginald.

"Are you well?"

"I'm fine. It was a little scary but I'm fine."

"You'll have to tell me what happened."

"I will, but not now. I'm really tired. Plus, David and the police are arriving. I'm going to have to answer a few questions."

"I'm glad it worked out. I'm glad you're safe."

"Me, too. I'll call you later."

Karen gave David a big hug and spoke with the police about finding Professor Chapman. She was getting good at spinning quick lies about why she was in a certain place at a certain time, saving people or discovering unusual things.  She never noticed that the silver bracelet she always wore was gone. Even if she had, she would not have given it much thought. She would not have remembered why she used to wear it all the time.

However, after everyone else had left, the person who picked the bracelet up out of the debris knew exactly what it was and what it meant.

***

Elsewhere...

"'Missing Teacher Found After Nine Years - Professor James Chapman, beloved Language teacher from the now defunct Colman School was found by a former student, Heather Wise, who brought his presence to the attention of authorities. He has been missing for nine years and cannot remember where he was and what he was doing during that time...'  Dammit! We do not need this right now! Where did he come from? Was the breaking of the obfuscation on the Colman School responsible for bringing him back?" He threw the folded paper across the library where it landed in a mess at Nightshade's feet.

"We aren't sure, Praetor.  But, we know that the Master of the City was involved. The Wilson girl called the police. I don't know why she's not in the article but my contacts on the force say that she was the one who alerted them. I can get you a copy of the report if you'd like," said Todesengel.

He shook his head. "No. If you're certain Karen and the Master of the City were involved, I don't need to see it. I trust you. Seems that Cheshire was right. The Master of the City is starting to move directly against us.  That's too bad. I did not want open warfare with him." He paused, deciding. "We'll deal with the Professor if he becomes a problem again.  I don't think he will when he learns of Vice Principal Thomas Rutherford's confession and suicide.  I think that will satisfy him and he will be busy acclimating himself to his new life."

Nightshade refolded the newspaper and put it on the table. "What do you want us to do in the meantime? Cerridwen has scryed out the most likely person to hand Karen over to us. Should we approach him?"

"Not yet. We need to get the last artifact for the ritual."

"You've found it?"

"Not as such. I believe I know what it is now.  I have some work for you to do, Todesengel. It's not going to be easy."

"It never is but I never fail."

"Almost never." Nightshade chimed in.

Todesengel glared at her then turned back to Praetor. "What do I need to do?"

"I need you or V'ger or preferably both of you to become very, very interested in Makah history and artifacts. I need both of you to start spending time down at the Makah Historical Center.  Find out about their legends. Their origin legends in particular. Do what you need to do to find out about them and make sure that everyone there knows of your interest and becomes familiar with you."

He frowned. "The Makah Tribe is not to be trifled with."

"I know. I said it wouldn't be easy. It would be better if your interest and research were genuine as well. I'd say you have some homework to do."

Story by Jennifer Brozek, Copyright 2006
Photo by Rory Clark, Stopped Motion Photography, Copyright 2006