A New Life

Chapter 22

Julián had no idea how much he could hate a moving until he suffered one. Orion had given him no hints about his plans when they were in Madrid; only a “we leave for London in three days”. In all his innocence, Julián thought that it was just a tourist visit.

How wrong he had been.

Again.

Everything had played against him in the same way like when Julián thought that Orion's idea of sending him to school was a bluff.

One morning he was woken up at an ungodly hour to be hurried to the airport, nearly pushed inside a private jet and flown to London, cursing all the way because of the stench caused by the fried sausages and beans the stewardess had served, totally convinced that Orion was a highborn British gentleman because of his accent.

Even Lýkos seemed to have growth a bowler hat on his head by the way he walked down the streets.

All his life Julián had felt a deep hatred to any kind of discipline or control over him and here he was; Julián Santos Koiranos, adopted son of Orion Koiranos.

The mere sight of his new passport made him want to puke or destroy something in revenge; the problem was that he had no idea of what could make Orion react and pay attention to him instead of taking him for granted as it was his way nowadays.

Had his mother been “mentally controlled and forced to sign” some funny papers? No, not at all; she had been more than happy to know that her own son would inherit a large sum at Orion's death along with the tangible promise of a new house and a fixed income for the rest of her life regardless of what may happen with Julián and Orion's association.

Julián felt very cheap at that. He was worth a three-bedroom townhouse with shared pool in the northern outskirts of Madrid. She had only asked him “What are you doing with this man in bed?” and he had answered; “much less than what I was doing before on a Saturday night.” She was happy to sign.

Julián never saw her again after she signed the papers. As long as he was concerned, she was dead.

Anybody with a little sensitivity could feel how Julián chewed his rage as he followed Orion and Lýkos everywhere. It was a physical reality that made people turn their heads in the street to look at the young man fuming and walking after a giant and a strange dog.

The small consolation price for living in a bustling city as London was quickly cut short.

“No, we move to the countryside. To Oxford. You should continue your education. Learning a few languages more would be a certain improvement for you.”

Enraged beyond reason, Julián had shouted vulgarly that he didn't need more lessons or books to read. Orion had shrugged in his typical way and answered:

“It's your choice, but that device of yours, the one you use for communicating with other mortals will not last for eternity, nor they. A broader cultural background will not result in your personal detriment.”

It had taken a few minutes for Julián to decode the man's abstruse wording. Once Julián had done it, and was ready to tell Orion what he could do with his culture, only Lýkos remained in the room.

He could have sworn the wolf chuckled right at his face.

On top, the youth had been drawn to a “tourist-frenzy” in the quest for a new house near Oxford making Julián wonder if Jane Austin's style was so hype nowadays as he was only visiting Georgian or Palladian style houses.

Julián had no idea Orion could be so prissy about houses because he visited around twenty before making up his mind for one. Julián was more used to his “carefree” way in which Orion didn't care about anything that happened around him as long as his meals and beloved silence were respected.

Finally, and just before the obsequious real estate agent was on the brink of an apoplexy attack, Orion settled down for a large Victorian mansion at Crick Road, just within “walking distance from the main colleges”. Orion didn't bother to negotiate the price as he told the agent to speak with his lawyers in Bath.

Only the slightest complaint of “the drawing room is too small,” forced Julián to realise how void and vulgar his life had been until that moment because a “drawing room” had never been listed among his family's top priorities while renting a house. He also learned the uses of a “sitting room”.

The memories of the moving in itself were blurred for Julián. He remembered Orion giving the orders of which furnitures he would like to have transferred to England from Portugal or the detailed and long list of books he wanted to have that were given to the interior designer in charge of the new house decoration.

Julián remained in his hotel room -next to his “father's”- and loudly ignored the bustle around him. He only read and read the many brochures from different colleges and finally settled for some French lessons and try to be admitted in Classical Archaeology and Ancient History at Balliol College. Perhaps a deeper knowledge of what seemed to be Orion's favourite holiday time would give him some clues into understanding him. The very elegant and uptight old lawyer that was visiting them once or twice per week congratulated him on his choice and gave him good advise on college life.

Balliol College was a bit far away from the new house and Julián hoped that would give him some respite, or that a twenty minutes walk -at least- would keep Orion away from his business.

Under the oppression of an unusually dry and hot summer, Julián began to read the mandatory books for his interview.

Orion softened his aloof stance -because after all he considered himself as the offended part after all the belittling remarks or outraged silences he had endured- and offered Julián to help him with his Greek grammar baby steps.

For Lýkos, the humans' truce was a huge relief as he was getting tired of being in the middle of a war of silences and glares. The moving to the new house was a balm for his nerves as he hated cars and cities. He also observed that both men began to sleep together again and Lýkos immediately took over Julián's bed.

The first frost came and Julián had his two essays ready for the admissions committee. One morning, he finnaly walked down to the admissions secretary office with a heavy heart. He knew that his chances of being admitted were dim as he hadn't got any grants nor a brilliant academic background.

The moment Lýkos set a paw inside the Gothic building, he became a sensation among all the students; some were afraid of his size; others were appalled by his regal airs but most admired how the wolf walked the stones with silent footsteps as the morning sun made his pelt look darker than the night.

Alas, Mrs. Thompson, Senior Secretary, was not thrilled by him.

“No, no,no. No animals allowed. Out with it!” she shriek and Julián had the good idea of grabbing Lýkos by the collar before he would growl at the lady standing in his way.

“I'll leave you the printed copies of my essays and go, Mrs. Thompson,” Julián said meekly and she looked somewhat appeased. “Come on, Lýkos,”

“How did you call your dog?” An old man croaked, emerging from one of the small offices.

“Lýkos,” Julián gulped.

“Is that your dog's name?” the man asked very surprised.

“It's a wolfdog, sir.”

“And you are?”

“Julián Santos P.. Koiranos, I mean.”

The man frowned as if he were trying to catch some elusive memory lost inside his mind. “I've got it! You are the boy from the Early Cicladic figurines and the Venus from Willendorf. Interesting work, though you don't follow the cannon. Where were you from?”

“I'm a graduate from Royal Holloway. Online course.”

“Ah yes, I remember you now.” the man answered and crouched to call Lýkos at his feet.

For once in a long time, Lýkos behaved like a normal dog and bent his head to approach the man to be petted.

“Wonderful animal,” the man complimented Julián. “Very befitting name, indeed.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I only wanted to ask when my interview would take place.”

“Ah, there's no need for that,” the man replied and Julián paled. “You are on board. Welcome.”

“But..”

“What I read is sufficient. I disagree a hundred percent with your essay and I hope I can mend your ways Mr. Santos but at least it was original and well written, two skills that your generation seems to lack. Your dog's name denotes a certain interest in the Ancient World.

“I remember one man named Koiranos working with Chadwick and Ventris back in the fifties. Any relative of yours perhaps?”

“I don't think so,” Julián answered nervously.

“Pity. That man had an incredible knowledge about Cypro-Minoan syllabary. He even supported the theory that Lineal A was a corrupted form of the Phoenician and had nothing to do with Cypro-Minoan as was common knowledge at that time, but nobody heard him. A real pity because some fifteen years ago, his theory was proved to be true by an arrogant twit.”

“Ahem,” coughed the secretary noisily. “Your date with the Headmaster is due in ten minutes, Professor.”

“I can call twit whoever I want.” the old man huffed.

“Yes, professor, but not in front of the students.”

“Why not?”

“Because of this house regulations and good manners?”

“Nonsense” the man huffed and slammed his office door making the secretary cringe at the noise.

“Get the monster out and return on November 11^th. I'll have your papers ready by then. And no matter what the professor says, the dog does not enter in these rooms.”

“Yes, of course. Who was he?”

“That was Professor Emerich. Although he has been retired for the past 20 years, nobody has had the heart to send him home. I imagine he will be your main tutor after this exchange.”

“Thank you,” mumbled Julián and escaped from the office, dragging Lýkos by the collar despite the warning growls he received.

* * *

“The dog got me into Oxford,” Julián growled as he saw the very British new housekeeper busily dusting some antiquities in the living room.

“Oh, I see a clear improvement in the recruitment crew,” she replied without paying much attention to him.

“Where's Mr. Koiranos?”

“Your father?”- Julián knew of kinder blows to his stomach- “He's been in his office for the whole morning. He should go out more.”

Lýkos, sensing the upcoming storm, preferred to fold back his troops to the kitchen and take a nap there, near the stove. One morning of parades for the benefit of some pups and old men was enough for him. At least it was good to be admired -for the wrong reasons- once again.

Julián watched the wolf slowly walking towards his favourite spot under a sunny window and imagined how he would lay there for the rest of the afternoon, lazily enjoying the warmth provided by the sun rays.

He wished he could do the same but he had other pending (and pressing) issues at hand.

“Don't tell me you've been using Koiranos as last name since 1950!” Julián whined as he stormed in Orion's new library-office, still crammed with boxes full of books, all of them scattered around. Julián's role as “son” didn't include dusting and sorting out Orion's books.

“No, I do it since 1750. It was such a “hype” to be related to Greece at that time,” sighed Orion, without rising his eyes from the letter he was writing.

“Please, don't tell me that you're one of the guys with the Lineal B! That Ventris man!” Julián closed the door behind him.

“Michael was 18 years old when I met him and he was a great connoisseur of the ancient languages. I only gave him one single push in the right direction. All is his discoveries are his own merit. And before you ask, there was nothing between us. He was very much in love of his fiancée and later wife.” Orion shrugged and his pencil continued to dance over the yellow pages.

“The old dinosaur knows you! The principal!”

“How old is he?” Orion asked very amused at the man's age description.

“I don't know, maybe eighty bordering on ninety,” Julián answered confused. “Very old!”

Orion laughed openly. “Old at ninety? What am I going to do? Where does it leave me?” he chuckled and Julián glared at him, waiting for an answer.

“There is no way he could have seen me back in the fifties, Julián because he was a schoolboy or an infant. Perhaps he read or heard something about me in the seventies or eighties.” Orion shrugged. “Anyway he would never recognise me, even if I were to sit with him and tell him the truth.”

“Stay away from college. He could see you.”

“In the remote case we would meet, he would not recognise me and if so, he would not believe his eyes.”

“He's not stupid!”

“Should I remind you how long it took you to understand us? Or better, how much you strived yourself to find a logical explanation for all the things you went through?”

Julián pressed his lips and buffed once more, furious at the fact that Orion was probably right.

“Even the minds of those who know who am I, cannot accept it. They think it is some kind of elaborated trick, but they hear me because my words are always proved to be true. It is considered as some sparks of brilliant lunacy from my part.”

“Especially Russians think a lot about your sparks,” Julián quipped. “You killed all their possibilities.”

“I did nothing.”

Julián snorted and Orion held his gaze. “A lightening happens.”

“Yes, of course. Random forces of nature who happen to use Google Maps.”

“Please enlighten me about how I could possibly command the elements.”

“Sartanos said you can do it and you didn't deny it. You're a wizard.”

“I thought I was a cheap parlour tricks gipsy.”

“Now, you're mocking me. Think on those lives you destroyed.”

“Will you do that too?”

Julián didn't know what to answer to that because once the initial shock had worn off, he had not given a single thought to the matter in the past three months. Guilt was a snake that bit hard.

“It's not the point,” he replied nervously.

“It never is.” Orion returned to his papers.

“What are you writing there?” Julián knew the face of defeat but to accept it was a different story.

“My reply to Lord Arlington. He wants to meet us.”

“So many pages to send someone to hell?”

“I am inviting him to spend the winter with us. I think it would be in your benefit.

“You are still very nervous around us and frankly, your behaviour is taking a taxing toll on our relationship. Meeting someone with akin interests to yours would release some of the tension or provide you with new horizons to explore.”

“I don't want to spend the winter with some snotty, Old Spice British fart!”

“Pride and Prejudice,” Orion joked. “Wait until you meet the gentleman and now go and tell the lady in the kitchen that there is no need to bake buns in this house. The smell is nauseating.”

“I asked for them.” Julián pointed out.

“Fine, eat them if you want, but do it away from me. I can't stand their stench.”

“You can't smell a piece of bread from here. You're exaggerating.”

“It is not my fault that people are born with their senses dulled.”

“I don't believe you!”

“Why are you always so mad at everything?” Orion smiled.

“I'm not mad at everything. Only at everything that has to do with you. Can't you be normal?” the boy whined.

“You knew since the beginning that I was “an odd rich dude”. I never pretended to be anyone else.”

The desire to shout “fuck off” or something along those lines constricted Julián's throat. He bit his lips instead and wondered if “not to be touched by disease” included ulcers in the list.

“I'll ask the cook to keep my buns wrapped with plastic foil, Orion,” he said with great dignity. “My senses are too dulled as to notice the scent or to taste of petroleum in the plastic.”

Once more alone in the studio, Orion smiled. Julián was still in shock but accepting his fate faster than he had dared to hope. He had only thrown a few tantrums but never tried to escape or refused to sleep with him. Perhaps he would feel better if he had a companion for a few years.

* * *

A landmine, forgotten from a nameless war, patiently waiting to do its duty while it withstood rain and frost, was what could have best described Julián that evening.

Forced to wear a tie to receive the great Lord Arlington, he was seriously considering to poison the soup. After all, he wouldn't die and if the worst happened, one less warlock in the Earth wasn't such a big handicap for said planet.

“Stand straight and don't look like the pallbearer.” Orion chided him when the doorbell rang and Mrs. Brown hurried to open the door.

“Yes father.”

“There is no need to call me like this. Lord Arlington knows who we are.”

Expectations are never met, thought Julián because instead of the old man, dressed in a dark suit, looking like at vulture, Lord Arlington was young.

Very young.

Julián gaped at him. He was around his age. Mid-twenties or less, dressed in a brown suit which was as anodyne as he. Instead of a grey man, one could say the youth was a “brown man”; brown eyes, brown hair, brown shoes, brown tie, brown suit but beige shirt.

“I'm very grateful to be invited to your house, Lord Koiranos.” His crisp accent woke up the old and evil Julián; his desire to tweet something atrocious was overwhelming.

“Julián, this is Percival Aloysius Stradford. I think I met one of his ancestors in... the Battle of Héricourt.”

“Our family is indebted to you, Sir. At the Siege of Neuss, you saved the Duke of Guelders' life,” the young man corrected Orion with great respect.

“I was glad to be helpful,” Orion replied nonchalantly as he had no idea who the man could had been. Perhaps Lýkos would remember him. Only these people's insistence, good services as go-between for the royalty and their willingness to yield one of their children was what mattered for him.

“Sir Percival will attend your same lectures, Julián.” Orion said and Julián frowned.

“We could study together. I hear it's a hard school,” the young man said shyly and cast his eyes down when Julián's furious stare fulminated him.

“Let's have dinner so we can speak freely.”

* * *

To Julián's further annoyance, Orion had decided that both young men should make a proper acquaintance and nearly forced them to go back to the living-room and sat there, watching each other like two angry monkeys.

The silence was heavy as each one of them carefully and fiercely inspected the other. Only the old standing clock had a saying on the matter when it struck midnight.

“So, Lord Arlington, we are room-mates now.” Julián finally broke their long silence as Lýkos jumped to the large chesterfield coach and buried his head on his lap, ready to be cosseted like a poodle.

“Please, call me Percy, Sir.”

“What's your interest in the Ancient World?” Julián asked. “Wouldn't you be better off in something more useful like Law or Medicine?”

“I'll go to the Parliament,” Percy replied proudly. “Well, someday,” he added blushing, nervous that the wolf was also looking at him now like a stern judge. “Far away in the future.”

“That's the lovely thing of having an hereditary Parliament, isn't it?” Julián replied acidly. Good-looking but preppy. Lord Percival, humph.

“Just a little less better than being what you are.” Percy replied a bit upset at the impolite treatment the young wizard had bestowed upon him all night. How old could he be? A hundred? Two hundred? A millennia old? There were so many stories around them. The family tradition said that the immortals would only emerge from the darkness when disaster was upon England.

Lord Guardian or not, he was ill-bred unlike the Seer who was fatherly and kind.

“Touché,” Julián smiled genuinely for the first time in some time. “I didn't ask for it.” He said softly and the boy's eyes widened.

“Is that so?”

“Didn't know what it was and I'm still not sure if this is true. Probably not. We will know it in... forty years?”

“How old are you?” Percy was shocked.

“Your age, I guess.” Dammed be he, if he was going to tell to a perfect stranger his age. “I just graduated in History. And you?”

“In Literature.” He answered mechanically. “When did you...?”

“Were “born”?” I crossed the door a year ago or so,” Julián shrugged and Percy inhaled deeply. “You lost your chance, but perhaps you can convince Orion to give you some of the Moon dust.”

“I don't want to die like this. All the people who tried it died. Horribly. No matter what they did to gain the Seer's favour.”

Julián frowned. “It's not an experience I'm willing to repeat any time soon, but it is not that bad. It's more like a Saturday night gone bad because of a cheap dealer.”

“How is it?” Percy asked anxiously. “How is to be dead? And to come back?”

“For me... it was psychedelic trip or something like this. Didn't give too much thought to it.”

“The people, the legend say you can be on both realms, that you see the future or speak with the dead ones.”

“Orion can do the same.” Julián answered laconically. “I can just take you there, if you want that is. The Real Monster-High Tour.”

“No thank you,” Percy replied in the blink of an eye. “It's monstrous.” he blurted out. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be offensive.” he added hurriedly and Julián softly smiled as he wasn't offended at all.

“When I heard about you, I couldn't believe it, but there's a lot of people you would never take for liars who believe it. My grandfather met the Seer right after the war, when he was a little boy and was greatly impressed. The memory of that encounter lasted all his life.”

“All right, no extra-corporeal experiences for you, Percy.” Julián chuckled and caressed the half asleep wolf.

“What did you see?” he asked. “Is it so bad?”

“You don't want to know. It's pointless.” Julián answered sharply. There's nothing you can do. It has already started.”

“A war in the Middle East? Nuclear war?”

“You'd wish,” chortled Julián. “Burned down to ashes only takes a few minutes at most.”

“What is it? The Seer always told us that the return of the Guardian would bring doom upon mankind... and if you're here.”

“You won't run to the MI5 with anything they don't already know.” Julián sighed becoming tired of the restlessly probing he was subjected to.

“Is there any way to avoid it? I..”

“Don't want to die? Well, we all will at some point.” Julián said. “Life wouldn't be better if you knew. You could be ran over by car when you cross that door; or you could get cancer; or you could choose suicide before facing extermination. Who knows?”

“How can you be so cold?”

Julián took a deep breath in. Those were the same words he had addressed Orion.

“I'm not,” he answered slowly. “It hurts me to see it, but there is nothing I can do to change or prevent it. Maybe Mother Nature changes her mind and nothing happens,” he lied to sooth Percy's nerves.

“Is it a natural disaster?”

“Something like this, yes.”

“Yellowstone? The Northern Hemisphere would not survive its explosion.”

“No, Yogi Bear was never for total extermination. Not sure about the little Boo Boo,” he joked but the eyes in front of him gave him pause. “Consider it a plague that has already upsurged. Not Ebola or AIDS.”

“No cure?”

“None that I know of, but perhaps there will be one with all the information Orion has provided to your people.” Julián lied with poise. After all, who was he to drive people mad with worry?

“Will it be soon?”

“No.” Julián affirmed very convincingly. “Not in your lifetime,” a sentence which wasn't a total lie if one was to take into consideration how big mankind life spam was.

“Is it painful?”

“People will fall into a coma to die a few days later. It feels like falling into a deep sleep.”

Percy closed his eyes in total relief and acceptance. Pain was something he was not ready to endure. Perhaps other people in his family were more the “warrior” type, but he was a gentle soul who only desired to be left alone with his books and dogs.

“Now, you tell me something.” Julián said with a grin in his face.

“Yes?”

“How is it that you escaped to be bullied with a name like Perceval?”

“There was a bloke named Hereward Anthony. All our poetic efforts were devoted to find a way to make fun of that. We were quite unsuccessful, though,” he replied with a mocked dignity and Julián laughed full heartedly.