Solstice - The Goddess Awakens

Alex Stein strode confidently into the packed church, the service had just begun. The soft melodic tap of his designer shoes on the old tile floor aroused the curiosity of the silent gathering. Shuffling in their seats, they turned to see who was approaching. A thin sliver of the summer sun illuminated the centre aisle of St Patrick’s Church, shrouding the approaching silhouette in golden light. Alex met the curious stares as he always did, with a gentle nod. He had become well accustomed to people staring at him; he had his fair share of admirers both male and female. His father was one of the wealthiest and most influential businessmen in Northern Ireland, so he was often pictured in the ‘Who’s who’ section of the Tattler and other society magazines.

Quickly locating a small gap in the seat, he effortlessly settled into the narrow pew in one swift motion. Alex felt slightly uncomfortable inside the church – even though this was nothing new to him. Looking at the altar, his eyes were drawn to the single most iconic image of Christianity. The ideology at the very heart of their faith, embodied in that ragged man nailed to the cross. Self-sacrifice was not something Alex Stein believed in. It was all a fallacy. The Abrahamic faiths – Christianity, Judaism, Islam – all were just glorified sun worshippers. They were no different than the countless other tribes. Each story was malleable, easily twisted to suit the teller. Arthur Delphian’s hypocrisy amused him. This church service was a charade, so far removed from the old man’s true faith. Arthur’s place of worship was not so different to his, he thought, though their ideologies were poles apart. Self-sacrifice was certainly not part of Alex’s mantra. Sacrifice though, that was a different matter altogether. The thought brought a wry smile to his perfect face.

Indifferent to the service, Alex turned his attention to the people around him. There were a few faces in the church that he recognised, which was exactly why his father had sent him. Alex didn’t notice her at first, but a flash of red caught the corner of his eye. Shifting his head slightly to his left, he examined the brunette who sat with her head bowed, gently sobbing into her tissue. Intrigued that she was wearing the brightest red dress at a funeral, Alex continued to stare. From what he could see she looked to be around his age, but it wasn’t until she lifted her head that he realised who she was. How was she connected to Delphian? Her long dark hair and pale oval face gave her a certain appeal, he thought, but it was her eyes – a vivid and most unusual shade of green with flecks of gold around the pupils – that placed her. Lola Paige was her name. He had got her first name that night, but it took a bit of research to get her second name. He’d been told that she was studying journalism. She certainly had fire. Momentarily interrupted as the mourners rose from their seats, Alex continued his appraisal. His eyes traced the contours of her slim, yet well-proportioned frame. The vintage, fitted dress that flared at the waist accentuated her figure. She must have sensed that he was looking at her, for she quickly glanced to her right. Alex made no attempt to look away and gave her a knowing nod. But, unlike every other female he had ever met, she didn’t respond with the customary smile, instead she held his stare for a second, her face like stone, flicking her eyes before abruptly looking away.

Momentarily distracted by the god at the end of the booth, Lola wondered what on earth Alex Stein was doing at Arthur’s funeral. The sound of a bell tinkling from the altar focused Lola’s thoughts once again. The service was nearing its end. It was almost time for her to speak. Lola’s stomach tightened in response to the thought.

‘And we ask you oh Lord, God of all creation, to take your beloved son Arthur into your perpetual light. May he rest in peace and may his soul and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God rest in peace. Amen.’ The priest finished off the service before addressing Lola. ‘I would now like to invite Lola Paige up to the altar to say a few words about Arthur. Lola.’ With a warm comforting smile, Father McGinn beckoned her towards him.

Suddenly nervous, Lola struggled to compose herself. Rising from her seat, she excused herself passing those who sat beside her, until she came to the edge of the pew where Alex sat. Much to Lola’s frustration, he made very little attempt to move out of her way. Anger rose in Lola, sparked in part by her embarrassment at their previous meeting, and the fact that curiously he seemed to be enjoying himself at her expense for the second time. In an attempt to pass, her leg caught the inside of his and he seemed to hold it there for just a second, long enough to stop Lola’s movement. Glancing down at him, Peter’s words came back to her: ‘Once you meet Alex, you will never forget him,’ he had said with a knowing laugh. Looking at him now she acknowledged that it was certainly not a face that anyone would forget in a hurry. Alex Stein was a beautiful man. He was even more god-like in the daylight. His blonde bed-head hair, sculpted bone structure and perfect facial proportion matched the rest of his sophisticated, toned appearance. He was tall, over six feet, guessed Lola, very athletic looking, and wore an immaculate fitted light grey Armani suit. As he lifted his eyes to meet hers, Lola tried to muster the coldest look she could manage. This wasn’t the first time their eyes had met but in the light she could get a better look. Lola couldn’t explain what she found there. Despite his irises being the most vibrant shade of blue, she had never before seen eyes so devoid of warmth. If the eyes were the windows to the soul, thought Lola, then Alex Stein’s soul was a cold and frigid one. Lola almost stumbled out into the central aisle, but she felt a firm stone grip around her waist which kept her upright.

‘You should watch where you’re going, Lola,’ said Alex, a hint of mocking in his well-polished American voice. It was a voice that was so far removed from Lola’s reality, it almost made her laugh. She wondered if his supermodel girlfriend was with him. She probably was, waiting to coil herself around his Davidesque physique. Lola subtly shrugged Alex Stein off and made her way to the altar, taking deep breaths as she went.

Standing behind the pulpit Lola stared out into the large crowd, her eyes were swollen and her head throbbing from all the crying. She knew exactly what she was going to say, but still she chose to look at the sheet in front of her. This was preferable to gazing down at the faces now staring at her intently. Alex Stein’s being one of them. She could see her brothers and her parents. They sat close to the front. Her mouth was dry and she took a few seconds to compose herself before she began.

‘Arthur Delphian,’ Lola swallowed as the name stuck in her throat like a razor blade. Just saying his name made her feel as though her heart had been stabbed, such was the pain. Using every bit of will she had, Lola began again. ‘Arthur Delphian was one of the most amazing people I have ever had the good fortune of meeting. Although in his long life I only knew him for a relatively short time, during which he watched me grow from a precocious little girl to a precocious young woman.’ There was faint rumbling of laughter, which helped Lola shrug off the tears for a bit longer. ‘He was like the grandfather I never had. And I often told him that I was like the granddaughter he never wanted. To which his characteristically kind rebuttal was always the same. “Lola, my dear,” he would say, “you are like the granddaughter I hoped and prayed for.”’ Lola paused for a moment before continuing. ‘Some of you here today will have known Arthur for many years. In fact, in some ways, you will have known him a great deal better than I did. But he was my oracle, my sage. He taught me the value of true friendship and of the light that exists in us all if we would just believe it. His passion for astronomy, Irish mythology and cosmology was infectious. Most of it was over my head, but I loved to hear him talk about his passions. Arthur Delphian not only had an amazing mind, but also an inspirational lust for life. He loved all things, not just his fellow human beings, but the beauty and abundance in nature. It was easy to love Arthur, those playful earthen eyes and warm laugh made anything else impossible. His humanity, social consciousness and genuine decency made him stand out in a crowd. I find it…..’ Lola finally broke down, the tears teaming down her face. Father McGinn stepped forward offering her a handkerchief, encouraging her to continue. Finally, finding her voice once again, Lola continued. ‘I find it inconceivable that anyone would want to harm someone as gentle and wonderful as Arthur Delphian. A light in this world has gone out; we have lost a truly enlightened soul. The world is a colder place today. Well I know mine certainly is.’

Lola spoke her last line so low that she was unsure if anyone even heard her. There was a moment of silence and then a deafening round of applause erupted around the church as the gathering rose to their feet. Lola felt like she was floating down from the altar. The applause still rang around the building, but to her it sounded like a faint hum in her head. She couldn’t bear to stay in the church for a moment longer. She had to get out into the air. She wasn’t sure she was even breathing anymore. The sun was still illuminating the central aisle, as Lola walked past her seat and instead followed the golden light to the back of the church. She pushed out through one of the huge old oak doors to the outside. Lola had struggled to hold herself together, but now the grief poured out in her. Waves of unbidden sorrow crashed over her as she realised once more what she had lost. She was grief stricken and as well as that there was something else troubling her deeply: guilt. She felt guilty. Guilty that she had missed his call the night he died. What if he was calling her for help? The thought was torturous. Lola felt that perhaps she could have done something.

The mourners were now making their way out of the church. They emerged into the sun which offered a comforting contrast to the cold church. Lola was relieved to be outside. She was grateful for the soft breeze now drying her tear-stained face. Finding refuge under one of the cherry blossom trees dotted around the church grounds, she located a small pocket mirror and checked to make sure that her mascara had not run too badly. Lola didn’t hear anyone approach on the mossy grass, so she was slightly startled by the gentle tap on her shoulder.

‘Excuse me, Miss Paige. Sorry to startle you, but would it be at all possible to speak with you for a moment?’ enquired a well-groomed gentleman, who Lola failed to recognise. He spoke with a heavy Oxford accent, which made her Northern Irish brogue sound very harsh in comparison. He was not much taller than her, dressed in a pale cream linen suit, with a red silk handkerchief hanging from his lapel pocket and a matching bow tie. On his head he wore a panama hat. He looked to be in his early seventies and carried a beautifully engraved walking stick that seemed to be more for dramatic effect than for use. His overall appearance gave an aura of eccentricity. Lola noticed the small signet ring on his little finger. It caught her eye since Arthur had worn exactly the same ring. Similarly, this ring was granite and had a golden Celtic triple spiral engraved deep into it.

‘Surely you can,’ said Lola. ‘How can I help you, sir?’ Her confusion must have been apparent because the gentleman began to speak almost to himself at first.

‘Oh ya! Of course. Of course! How rude of me! My name is Markus Holmes, Arthur and I….’ His face meant nothing to Lola, but the name meant everything, she interjected before he could finish his introduction.

‘Arthur and you were best friends at university. I’m so sorry, Markus, we’ve never met but I’ve heard about all your exploits. Arthur talked about you all the time. He has a picture of the two of you in his observatory, when you were at Oxford, but you were both a lot younger then. So I’m so sorry I didn’t recognise you.’

‘No no, not at all my dear. That seems like a lifetime ago.’ His eyes began to well up. ‘I’ve certainly changed a bit from then,’ he chuckled. ‘Arthur spoke very highly of you, my dear, and you did him very proud in there today.’

‘I don’t know about that, Markus,’ cringed Lola. Lola never quite learned how to take a compliment. Glancing over towards the thinning crowd she caught Alex Stein looking over. He turned away immediately when he realised Lola and Markus were looking in his direction. Lola turned her attention back to the charming old man. ‘It’s lovely to meet you. I just wish it had been under different circumstances.’

‘I know. I will miss him ever so much, and the circumstances surrounding his death are very perturbing, my dear, very perturbing indeed!’ Gently taking Lola by the elbow, Markus guided her away from the few stragglers that were within earshot. He looked over his shoulder like he was about to divulge a major secret.

‘Lola, I know this is neither the time nor the place to discuss such matters, but there is much you do not know about Arthur Delphian. His murder is of major significance, and a horrific chain of events has been set in motion.’ Lola’s face was blank, as was her mind; she wasn’t at all sure what she was hearing. She tried to gather her thoughts and turned to face the old man.

‘Sorry, Markus, I know that Arthur was a bit eccentric, and of course there’s the cremation, later on this evening, but what exactly are you saying?’ There was a hint of accusation in Lola’s tone. Markus sensed that it was perhaps best to leave, but he held his hand on her shoulder clearly concerned. She looked exhausted, and he was unsure how much more he could tell her. For the first time in his life Markus questioned his friend Arthur’s judgement. Lola was only a girl, perhaps his old friend had got it wrong.

‘Lola, I just wanted to prepare you for what you will see and hear at the cremation. You know Tom is a friend of Arthur’s?’ Lola glanced over towards the robust undertaker as he stood solemnly awaiting Arthur’s coffin. ‘He will take care of all the legalities, the general public believe that the burial is a private affair and you understand that it must remain that way? I trust you have not told anyone about the arrangements later? You’ve clearly been through quite a lot, my dear.’ Lola could see how worried Markus was. She could sense his anxiety, and she immediately felt guilty for being so abrasive. Arthur had been his friend too. She wasn’t the only one to have lost him; the crowd in the packed church today was evidence of that.

‘I will speak to you later this evening, dear girl, and this will all make more sense.’ Markus tipped his hat and walked away. Lola noticed a very attractive woman was waiting for him. She looked as though she was in her early forties, too young to be his wife, thought Lola. They both smiled and nodded at Lola as they turned to leave. Lola couldn’t take her eyes from her long golden hair and the way her crushed velvet dress swayed as she walked, the light catching the various shades of lilac and gold.

A guard of honour had formed along the sweeping driveway of the church as her brothers and her father gently slid Arthur’s coffin into the back of the waiting hearse. Lola forced herself to look as Tom secured the back door; he gave Markus and his lady friend a curt nod before slipping into the driver’s seat.