The Infernal Society

Chapter 1, Part I; The Cambion

LOURNET VALLEY,
RURAL ENGLAND 1917

It was a quiet September morning. A gloomy overcast  had consumed the valley, a silent leftover from a storm that had snuck through the night.

Storms in the late hours weren't uncommon, they came and they went. But something about this one kept Alfie awake. With each clap of thunder and flash of lightening, thoughts that weren't meant to be unearthed...suddenly...were.

He'd spent the night staring at the cracks of his bedroom ceiling, enduring the protracted ticking of an ancient clock after it tolled at midnight. It's tolling in unison to the thunder, like sledgehammers repeatedly pounding into metal. Each harrowing thought a bullet darting back and forth like ping pong against his skull. The storm ended. Dusk arrived, seducing the leftovers of night to blush into the wake of a new day.

There was no desire to move, not an inch, for any reason beyond him and his current state of peace. He wished to remain blanketed by the dingy fabric which defended his lanky body against the stubborn cold. Like I need it, he thought. He hardly complained about frigid days, in fact, he couldn't remember a time beyond his toddler years when he ever did. He had his own profound source of warmth from a flame within. One so peculiar against the mundane nature of others...

A new day. In the comfort of his room, miles from a small village, upon the nearest hill on a wide stretch of meadow, was the home of Alford Metellus Cross, who lived with his lovely mother and his uncle who was more like a brother to him. Alfie, they called him. A nickname given from his uncle Tommet ever since he had a tiny dimpled smile that revealed only two teeth.

Not once had Alfie left his cozy home in Lournet Valley. It's all he's ever known. The convenience of his home and it's peaceful surroundings. The tall hills, mornings of dancing mist and ghostly fog that slithered through the marshes, and vast green meadows beneath rare blue skies. He even adored gazing at the locals who traveled between their farmlands and the small town located miles from his stay.

This platitudinous lifestyle was all he would ever need. He never wanted more. Never needed more. But oddly, he felt himself somehow outgrowing the simplicity of it all. He wasn't sure why. Perhaps he thought some things around him were constantly changing, along with himself, and they were indeed.
A season of spring, he'd think. And it was symbolic. How such alignments acted as the harbinger of rebirth. Which meant eventually, what was current must be put to rest for something new to begin.

Delusions, Alfie chuckled to himself. All would be well and these feelings would last. There wouldn't ever be a need for a change so drastic. He would be safe in the comfort of his home, seeing the same faces he'd always see and explore the same sights of the valley and all would be well. The daring thought of an event that would affect that exhausted Alfie. "No," he'd say to himself. "Everything will be fine. We are fine," and he'd end the mantra as he always did. With a deep sigh of reassured relief. "I'm okay."

After dragging himself from his bed, Alfie stood before his bedroom window and watched as the violets blossomed beneath the lingering gloom, stern against the short-tempered winds. All five of the bluish pedals formed landing pads for hard working bees in pursuit to gather what they needed to produce precious honey, in preparation for a frigid season to come. And they had to hurry, for the rain could resume at any moment. Alfie was surprised the break from the persistent gloom went on this long.

As the morning settled and the gray skies brightened only slight, the wind swayed the flowers by the stem and chilled the bedroom window with the coldest kiss. Alfie felt the chill from where he stood as he stared out the window, draped with a blanket, poised like spectre haunting his room. The lingering cold  bounced off his searing skin and soaked into the blankets that wrapped around him. Through the cool glass stained with freckles of grime, Alfie carefully studied the hard-working pollinators who sought to obtain what they needed from blooming flowers. As he watched the little insects, he found himself reminiscing to a more simpler time of his younger life. Reflecting back on a memory when his sick mother wasn't so sick...