Chronicles of a Time Thief

Chapter 1Pleased to Meet You

There I sat, comfortable in the living room of my apartment in New York City’s West Village. It was a rainy Sunday afternoon. I was thinking about my obsession, my dream, to travel back in time. As I settled in with my cat Cosette in my lap and a glass of my favorite single malt Scotch in my hand, I heard a familiar voice speak to me.

“Marie, my dear, you know what you really want. You want to break into the music business and make yourself known,” the voice said. “I will give you one major rock band, six songs.”

“What the fuck?” was my first reaction.

I knew the voice was in my head. This was not my first encounter with this auditory mystery, but this time it was much clearer. I had heard the voice too often to ignore it. It seemed to demand immediate acknowledgment. I had just had surgery. Was it possible that I was hallucinating from mixing medication with Scotch?

“What the hell was that about?” I asked Cosette.

I realized the voice had a hint of personal recognition in it. The “my dear” part seemed much too familiar for comfort.

Much to my relief, the ringing of my telephone interrupted the situation. After a short conversation with Michael, my so-called significant other, it was apparent that I would be home alone that evening. I was content with this. At this point in my life, I didn’t need to be tied down to someone else’s lifestyle. I had lost a previous boyfriend during the World Trade Center attack. Because of my stubborn nature, my heart would not allow me to completely love anyone else. I think I felt this way because I also knew in my heart that someone out there really was my true soulmate.

My computer was acting up. I was unable to get a strong internet connection, which I assumed was due to the weather. I decided to leave the house, hoping to avoid any recurring voices from other dimensions for the remainder of the day. Whatever the reason, I had the urge to get out for a while. I pulled a sweater over my T-shirt and found my red plaid rain boots.

“Okay, Cosette,” I said, scratching the top of my cat’s head. “Mommy is going to the library for some research.”

I grabbed my umbrella and headed into the rainy city toward the midtown library.

As I approached the library, I couldn’t help noticing the unusual fog surrounding the building. However, weird fog or not, getting out of the rain was my first concern. A smile came to my face as I realized the fog reminded me of London.

The library had a few more visitors than usual. Several appeared to be homeless. I assumed the building provided some shelter from the storm. I found the book I wanted about the grids of the Earth. I thought this information might help in my quest for time travel. I settled at a table occupied by only one man, who appeared to be sleeping.

I began reading about Zero-Spin energy transfer, a reference to a type of levitation. Eventually, I reached my limit for reading and note-taking. As I shifted in the uncomfortable wooden chair, a sudden feeling of revelation came over me. After years of research and failed experiments, I was nearer than ever to making my dream a reality. My head was spinning.

“Oh, my Goddess. I think I have the solution,” I said to myself.

“Do you?” a voice asked.

It was the same voice I had heard earlier.

“And what makes you think your Goddess has anything to do with your most recent revelation?”

Looking toward the end of the table, I became aware that the sleeping man was now sitting up. The first things I noticed were his well-manicured nails and the gold-and-diamond ring on his finger. His suit appeared to have been chosen with impeccable taste. He apparently was not homeless.

My first reaction was to gasp. I knew him, but I could not remember from where. This man was intense, to say the least. I felt a sudden urge for protection. Had I still been a Catholic, I would have blessed myself. But being a Witch, I instinctively reached for the Hexagram of Solomon pendant I wore.

“What?” I managed to sputter. “Oh, my Goddess.”

“There you go again with the Goddess. Not quite, my dear. No need to be alarmed,” he whispered.

His speech confirmed that it was the same familiar voice I had been hearing in my head. It had a distinct harshness to it. He had a British accent, which, in my own twisted mind, actually appealed to me.

“I’m not here to harm you. I’m here to help you. I am going to give you the chance of a lifetime: the chance to go back in time.” He raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Let’s say, with one rock band and six songs.”

“What?” I repeated, feeling a little brainless. I felt both interest and fear. “What?”

“Interesting how you keep asking ‘what,’” he answered. “Not ‘who.’ Are you not the least bit curious about my name, where I come from, or, most of all, what I am?”

“I have a pretty good idea what you are.”

I suddenly became brave and decided not to show fear. Curiously, I wasn’t as afraid as I should have been. I knew he was a Daemon, but there was something about him that wasn’t threatening.

“Doesn’t really matter what part of hell you’re from or what name you’re using these days, does it?”

“You’re correct. It doesn’t really matter, Marie.” He looked across the room and turned back to me. “I think you may be interested to know that the librarian and these other people can’t see me. They think you are talking to yourself. We need to meet somewhere else where we may talk freely.”

“Wonderful.” I looked down and buried my face in the book. “So, do you talk to me while I’m asleep? Will you just tell me now what is going to happen?”

“No need to disturb what little sleep you get.” He smiled. “Tomorrow, let’s say noon. I will meet you at the ferry pier near your office. We can take a little boat ride across the Hudson.”

He rose from his chair and vanished as he walked away.

“Show-off,” I mumbled under my breath.

Suddenly, in contrast to my outward bravery, I felt myself shaking. Tears welled up in my eyes.

“Have I just been visited by Lucifer himself?” I asked myself.

Trying to regain my composure, I said, “No, he’s just a Daemon.”

My inner voice screamed at me, “Just a Daemon! What the fuck do you mean, ‘just a Daemon’?”

Noticing that I had drawn some stares and unwanted attention, I quickly left the library and ran into the subway. The ride home seemed endless. I felt as though everyone on the train was staring at me. I wondered if any of these people were, in fact, Daemons themselves.

Any notions of sleep I might have had were promptly dismissed. I stayed awake for most of the night with my Book of Shadows, reviewing and performing protection spells. I wondered what he meant by one band and six songs. Sure, I loved music. I played a little piano, very little. I had no exceptional musical abilities to speak of. Not to mention the fact that I was fifty-nine years old. This was a wee bit late in life to begin a career in rock and roll.

What was the connection here? The only people my age who were still rocking out were members of bands like Gryphon and what remained of the Beatles. However, they had started in the sixties. I could hardly compare myself to them. But if I did have the chance to work with any band, Gryphon would undoubtedly be the one I would choose.

My seemingly endless night was followed by a long and tedious morning at work. As I went about my morning routine, I became more anxious. I wanted to scream at everyone. I wanted to tell them they were all idiots for working at this Wall Street firm. I wanted to tell them to follow their dreams, to follow their hearts. I wasn’t quite sure if I would have the nerve to do that myself.

When the little clock on my computer showed 11:45, I picked up my purse and ran out of the office. Arriving at the ferry pier, I could not believe I was there. I was keeping an appointment with a Daemon who could be the devil himself.

I hadn’t told anyone about this appointment. I should have talked with my friend Vanessa. She, more than anyone, would have understood. I could be murdered on my lunch hour, and no one would know. I would be one of those people who disappeared and were never found.

I began to think I was really insane. Maybe I would stand here, and no one would show up. If this Daemon did keep our appointment, I wondered if it would appear to others that I was again talking to myself. I took my cell phone out of my purse; at least it would seem that I was having a normal telephone conversation.

“I’m not invisible today, Marie,” said a voice behind me. “Today I can be seen by everyone. I’m so glad you kept our rendezvous.”

Turning to face him, I thought, Rendezvous? To me, that was a secret meeting between lovers. Hardly the circumstances of this meeting.

I decided that he was not a bad-looking man. He seemed to be in his early thirties. He was about six feet tall, with longish hair and a little diamond in his right ear. Today, he was dressed casually in jeans and a black sweater. He seemed quite the normal gentleman, at least in his outward appearance.

“So, you read my thoughts,” I said, now wondering what his name was.

“Not all of them, only your immediate thoughts. For instance, when you talk to yourself. You do tend to do that quite often.” He held out his hand to help me board the ferry. “Incidentally, my name is Bael.”

I accepted his outstretched hand and greeted him. At his touch, an unexpected calmness came over me.

“Ah, yes,” I answered, remembering my studies of The Goetia.

I remembered Bael as one of the main spirits mentioned.

“You would be one of the kings of Hell, ruler of sixty-six legions of Infernal Spirits. I’m glad you have taken the form of a human to meet with me. Two-headed talking animals really freak me out.”

“You’ve done your homework.” He smiled. “I like that. Still studying, are we?”

“Yes, always,” I answered. “I believe that no matter how much one knows, there is always something new, or even old, out there to learn. Presently, I am rereading some of the writings of Arthur Waite and Aleister Crowley. I’m sure you’re familiar with them.”

“Yes, of course. Mr. Waite and Mr. Crowley, wonderful old chaps. I believe them to be two of the century’s finest practitioners of the Craft. Ah, those were indeed the good old days.”

He nodded in approval and, for a brief moment, seemed lost in a fond memory.

“Would you like to meet them?” he asked, as though offering me an incredible opportunity that I could not pass up.

“Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll pass for now,” I answered, sounding a little more sarcastic than I intended. “One Daemon at a time, if you please.”

“Now, now,” he said. “They were both brilliant men; however, they were not Daemons.”

We walked to the ferry railing. As I looked at the vacant sky where the World Trade Center had once stood, I asked, “What about the fuckheads who changed our lives on nine-eleven?”

“What about them?” he asked unemotionally. “They have their own agenda, just as each individual has his or her own.”

“So, they are okay with you?” I could feel anger growing in my voice. “You think what they did to us, what they are doing to the world, is all right?”

“It is not my place to judge one way or the other. That’s what the final days are for.” He laughed softly. “I don’t even judge you, my little recovering Catholic.”

“You mentioned time travel in the library. What if I go back to that day?” I asked. “I warn the government. I make people leave the buildings before the planes strike.”

“Some things are out of our hands. You know you cannot do that,” he explained. “Some things cannot be changed. You are aware that certain things are eternally fixed in time. Even supposing you did, you would more than likely end up imprisoned for some kind of conspiracy, or perhaps be found floating dead in the Hudson River with an ice pick in the back of your neck. Also, how do you know they weren’t warned? Perhaps warnings were ignored.”

“Yes, well, there are rumors of that sort,” I agreed.

The idea of me with an ice pick in the back of my neck came too easily to him. Perhaps he knew of some event that I had no knowledge of.

“If I know the future when I travel, why not use that information to help others or to my own advantage?”

“That is why, at times, when you travel, it’s best not to know the future,” he said. “Specifically, if it is your own.”

I decided to return to the original purpose of this meeting.

“So, why the visit to me?”

“I’ve been watching you. You and your obsession with time travel and remote viewing. Very clever little Witch you are. Interesting indeed. You have attracted the interest of many.”

“What?” I asked. “Like who?”

“Let’s say, not of this dimension.”

He was avoiding a direct answer. He held out a large manila envelope.

“You are one of those few mortals who seem to understand us. Read this contract, and we will talk at a later time.”

“Contract?” I asked. “Listen up right now, Mr. Bael. I’m not giving you my soul. I’m not giving up anything that I hold dear.”

I refused to take the envelope.

“No, you will not. I didn’t expect that you would. Not completely.” He paused. “I already have several souls connected to a deal. However, whilst sealing the final stages of another particular contract, I discovered that actions connected to your time travel have interfered greatly with the advancement of my plans. Let us just say that you have forced my hand to make some necessary amendments.”

“You mean to tell me I have already traveled?”

I suddenly became excited.

“Yes, you have.”

As he spoke, a pen appeared in his hand. He drew a straight line on the back of the envelope, then added little lines across it in several places.

“I think you may already know this, but let me refresh your memory about how simply it all works. Imagine this line is a river, the river of time. You are the captain of a ship sailing down this river. Wherever you dock the ship determines the time period you are experiencing. Or, as your hero Albert Einstein and quantum physics tell it, everything is happening simultaneously. So, in fact, there is no specific moment that can hold you at one point in time.” He smiled. “Einstein would be proud of you. You, my dear, have become quite the little sailor these past few years.”

“No shit!” I blurted out. “That’s why you were so familiar. We’ve already met.”

“Yes, we have met before, whilst you were traveling,” he agreed. “However, as you will see when you read the contract, this time we will be traveling together.”

“Really?” I was curious and excited. “To when?”

“I would put the time period around the mid-sixties.” He grinned. “Can you remember the sixties?”

“Yes, if you are talking about the 1900s.” I smiled, having fond memories of my own. “I was also around in the 1460s.”

“Yes, if I recall correctly, you were with that chap you were married to, Geoffrey. You were a Witch back then also. That time period was very hectic for me, and also very dangerous.”

“Back to Einstein,” I said. “Can I travel back to meet him? He could really set me straight on all this.”

“You might. Maybe someday when you are bored,” Bael said, shaking his head with a smile. “But not this time. Nevertheless, we will be going to 1964. That is when you will become quite the successful young woman. You will again be twenty-one years of age.”

“Will I be here in New York?” I asked.

“No, you must travel to London,” he told me. “Don’t worry. I will make the majority of the arrangements. On this particular trip, we will travel through time, not space. You will go back in time here in New York, but you must arrive in London on your own. If you agree to go, you will be leaving on October 31. I always find it interesting to make these trips on Samhain. You will be in London on your own. You will have six months to accomplish your goals. You will need an American passport for 1964. That is part of the preparation you must make yourself.”

“Yes, I understand.”

I found it quite natural that he was seeing to the details of my forthcoming trip.

“Wait a minute.” I recalled part of our conversation in the library. “You mentioned a rock band and six songs. I’ve decided that I want to work with Gryphon, and they were touring here in the States in 1964. Why would I go to London?”

“You don’t seem to understand,” he explained. “Your time travel will change a few minor things, such as tour dates, because they will instead be in the studio recording the songs you wrote for them.”

“Songs I wrote for them? Really, how interesting,” I said. “So, there will be no riot at the Ed Sullivan Theater?”

I smiled, recalling the memory.

“I was there, ya know,” I told him proudly.

“Yes, I remember seeing you in battle at the front lines.” Bael rolled his eyes. “A lovely time was had by all,” he added sarcastically. “It will still happen, but perhaps a few months later, depending, of course, on which road you decide to take in the end.”

“Really, that’s fascinating.” I thought for a minute. “So, I can actually change the future.”

“No,” Bael explained. “As I told you, there are things in motion, good and bad, that are going to happen no matter what you do. Things no mortal, Daemon, or Angel can prevent. Those pesky things that are fixed in time.”

“You make it sound like I’m heading for a bit of a negative experience,” I said.

“Not really.” Bael smiled faintly. “If, however, you choose to accept my offer, well, let’s just say the next six months will set the stage for your future and the future of a few other mortals I am in contact with.”

“Well, it all sounds good to me,” I told him. “My life needs some changing.”

“You seem eager and accepting of all this. I want you to read the contract and be sure you agree with all the consequences that may arise.”

His mood became very somber.

“This is no game. This is a serious matter. There is a lot at stake here, both for you and for me. Keep in mind that there will be sacrifices on your part that you presently do not foresee. Now I must go. I have several other appointments in the area. I might add that you and I have more in common than you are presently aware of, or would like to admit.”

“Yes, I’m sure you are referring to my dark side,” I agreed. “Sometimes it’s so strong that it just calls out to me. Now here I am, talking to you, a Daemon, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.”

“Yes, a darker side than you think.” He smiled. “In your case, it’s more than just watching a horror movie and hoping that the vampire will finally be triumphant in the end. All humans have a dark side, and I’m that darker side of everyone.”

He walked with me from the ferry to the front of my office building. After I finally took the envelope from him, he took my hand and kissed it.

“Farewell for now. Ring me up.”

“How?” I asked as he turned to leave.

I wondered how I was supposed to call him. Do Daemons have cell phones? How amusing would that be? There would be the great Bael, showing off his powers of darkness, only to be interrupted by his cell phone ringing. I had to laugh.

He turned back to face me and tapped my forehead.

“No cell phone. Just think of me, and I will appear at a location of your choice. My mind is open twenty-four seven.”

I watched him walk away. This time, he did not disappear into the air. He walked with an attitude, the walk of someone who was superior to everyone else around him. I thought he deserved that attitude. He was, without a doubt, superior to most.

It was then that I noticed a woman I worked with but didn’t like. She had been watching us from the corner hot dog stand.

“Nosy bitch,” I said to myself.

As Bael passed her, he casually waved his hand in the air. Instantly, the plastic container she held seemed to explode, splattering mustard all over her white blouse. He smiled at her unfortunate mishap, looked at me, and winked.

I smiled back at him, and that was the moment I realized I liked Bael. Daemon or not, he was an interesting character. My boring life certainly needed a dash of the interesting.