Peter - Chapter Nineteen

Peter - Chapter Nineteen
The hay bales hadn't been moved overnight. The circle, however, had an intense feel yesterday lacked. All attending the conferences second day were committed to conclusion of the issues raised by the magnetic forces that had brought them together.
Jesus Christ no longer looked the distracted crusty of yesterday. A piercing intensity had entered his eyes, his Slappers were long gone. Hitch hiking for them was no slog of hours rain soaked junction hovering. Once thumb fell parallel to the ground rarely a minute elapsed before some vehicle whisked their majestic forms to any destination they chose.
Cathy had talked Sue into accompanying her return to Cheltenham, perhaps wisely as her personal changes in dress weren't married to the ready expertise with violence the Slappers she so admired had developed through extreme hardship. Once safely on the national express Sue forgot the slappers and wept for Esau.
The youngest of the sons of Jesse was also quietly feeling her loss. His mind wrestled with the labyrinth network that he could use to find his way to her. Walking together with Elijah felt good despite missing Sue. Entering the tunnel that had brought them out at Bury Ditches Hill Dort felt comforting and safe as the earth reclaimed her own into her bosom. Subterranean life meant exposure overland always felt vulnerable. The brothers walked in proud unity. They were returning to their father with hearts filled with hope. Jesses empire now had an heir, hope, a future of great possibility.
Lipton - Peter - Jesus Christ - Mike Oldpastures - Harry - Charlotte - Dianne - Stella - Andy - Ben - Jimmy - Bill. The dozen sat to discuss the two main issues.
Christ: "I called this conference for a few reasons. I've been in touch with the other Druid communities. They fear that your plan, the original Druid project, to establish five isolated clusters of Druid communities, is endangered. Each group was to keep alive the craft in separate and unconnected locations. Then, once the Roman invasion was over the aim was to return the flame to the people. Yet it has taken two millenia and the devastation of the environment before the poison the Romans brought had worked its way through. They fear that the abuse of the Clun group has caused you to grow disfunctional. They still believe you need only wait a few more generations and your project will reach conclusion. They feel you may bring on unnecessary trouble. Prevent the plan reaching its ends. The twenty deaths may be far from police detection but all Albions various Mystics have a pretty good idea whose doing it. They implored me to report their misgivings as you are sworn to not interact. These things I say are no reflection of my personal beliefs, yet I hereby fulfill my promise in reporting to you. I will say, however, that not only Lipton and Peter, me, but others are aware of the twenty deaths. This has been your choice. Furthermore, much as I respect the Druidic project and the discipline it has taken, I see it as an archaic anomaly. Too much has changed to ever hope a return to pre Roman consciousness might be possible. And if it happened, it would occur despite, rather than down to your scheme."
Andy: "So you report this without holding any belief in the other Druidic people's hopes?"
Jesus: "I respect them enough to report their message."
Andy: "Let's take a step backwards. Are we in alignment regarding the failure of the promethean project of western civilisation? Do the other Druids, and those here today, believe the line mankind has taken culturally in these isles alongside their allies in Europe and USA, has failed. Science has offered a route out of superstition yet destroyed the environment in doing so. Are we agreed the over population of humanity has caused vast extinction of other species. Are we in agreement that the cyclic system of life and death, the nature of all life forms on the planet, furthers the overall planetary health. Do we agree that man is an animal? Subject to animal laws?"
Most nodded, Jesus concurred with the basics of the idea.
Andy: "That the linear journey man began through his belief in his unique gift of consciousness, sometimes called the soul, the journey away from animals and environment, stepping out alone using our reason, rational and science, that this linear journey be it to salvation or understanding, the seperation and walking off alone, was a mistake?"
Jesus: "We agree! Does anyone here believe we can make a blind bit of difference to the path the human animal will take?"
Peter: "We heard your lack of belief in the possibility of steering human culture. I submit an alternative angle. We are animals subject to animal laws. However, each animal has evolved distinct specialities. Peregrine falcons can hit speeds over 150mph whilst in stoop to kill their pray. The cheetah runs at great speed to bring down an antelope. Human speciality is self reflective consciousness. Free will, as Christ argues, is in the purest sense, an illusion. Yet humans have reached their current evolutionary details 196,000 years ago. Since then there have been numerous different cultural systems. The path of the western mind is but one. A chance out of an infinite spectrum. It's twists and turns have pivoted on the decisions, ideas and stand out acts of individuals. Free will is an illusion, if we consider the casting of dice. Countless bounces and knocks, air pressure and turbulence, something so complex and beyond human conception that predicting how the dice will fall can never be more than a guess. However, if these countless effectual influences have a compliance to natural laws of physics, given sufficient data and a computational measurement system of vast complexity, the cast of dice could be predicted accurately. The dice land to the determination of many factors, yet if all were known, the dice fall would be inevitable. The supposed conclusion to the free will debate that has been a philosophical game of tennis since Ancient Greece, comes, in most current writing, from neuroscience. The theory is far older, yet now proof exists that up to ten seconds prior to a decision, neuro chemical processes are preceding it hidden from our awareness, deep below even subconscious. The conscious self only becomes aware of its decision half way down the line. Yet, a person you know well enough, faced with a dilemma, may appear, to a stranger to be ruminating, running over the pros and cons. But if you know someone sufficiently well you can know well before they do what their decision will be. We are animals that act, generally speaking, to their own nature. Some drivers never pick up hitch hikers. Their fear for personal safety, lack of empathy, class prejudice, any reason reflective of their nature may dictate their never doing so. Others always pick up hitch hikers, again a blend of character, nurture and experience, contribute to it being in their nature to pick up a stranger. Yet it certainly appears, from within that we always have choice. I agree. Still, it makes no difference. Does it matter why someone kills another? Does it matter if it was in their nature or a considered act? If they entered a psychotic delusion whereby the brave killing of the devil before them will save countless others? To me it's like a dog. If a dog is dangerous and attacks children, it must be put down. Regardless of how horrific its upbringing. Regardless of the misfortune of its breeding. Mitigating factors affect choice but they always will. Those dangerous to society need locking away, not to punish them, simply for our safety. Equally so, the college student born with a predisposition to work hard no more chose their character than a murderer. Human failings blight our careers where character weaknesses and laziness blight others. For sure, it takes hard work to become a world champion boxer. But it was pure luck they were born with that discipline and drive, alongside the physique and motor skills. They no more chose these traits than they chose their sexuality, gender, skin colour or parents. The same line of reasoning praises the hardworking and successful as causes sexist or racist outlooks. The sooner we accept this the better it will be for all. But I doubt this myth will crumble any time soon. Our leaders, academics, athletes, rich, successful in all areas won't accept that their good fortune was chance. Their entire delusional self esteem depends on the sustenance of this lie. The conservative government has attacked the weak, poor, disabled, mentally ill by blaming their predicament on their choices. Of all factors choice plays the smallest roll in a persons achievements in life. Fate of birth over rides in all but very rare cases. So infrequent are the deviations from this rule that their stories make books, films, if they were anything other than extremely rare exceptions to the rule their would be no story. Yet the myth continues. So, I say consciousness is a red herring.
But enough great people live to their beliefs unhindered by their society and these do steer the mass mind. Besides all this, if we accept we have no more control than a slug then we do nothing and downhill is the inevitable conclusion. I agree a slug has no greater chance of figuring out the meaning of life but I don't think we are without power."
Jesus: "Take a look at my career? It nearly got me killed, again, yesterday for its inverse effect to my belief. Basically, I'd have caused less harm by continuing with the joinery business. The human act, the life's work, a writer, artist has no control over how their work is interpreted and used. Aren't I living proof of my point?"
Lipton: "No! You are an example of one life. Try Hitler, Stalin, there ideas were carried out to the letter without question. I, for one, would have preferred a world free of them."
Jesus: "Names. Someone else would have filled their role had it not been them. Further, and this point should draw us together again. Has mankind's peace been a good thing for the biodiversity of the planet? Is the growth of human peace a good thing as population continues to expand reducing the biodiversity in its path for farming crops to sustain our growing number?"
Charlotte: "You all come from the perspective that considered action with a long overview has ever been, our view is far less considered. A man shoots your dog, in anger you go out and shoot his! It may well be the worst course of action. But it is all you have! Your animal response. Trust it. Deep down we all know what we want. Do it!"
Peter: "Some people are best taking your advice. But a paedophile? Wouldn't someone born with horrific urges be best advised to resist these unasked for impulses?"
Peter: "Look! We are accepting defeat if we are to slither down some philosophical loophole. Let the Clun Coven explain first if these deaths and my speculation yesterday was correct and second, if true, what is it that makes such barbarism worthwhile. The Druidic project is none of our business. Whether it works or not. Jesus, you need to report back to the other Druids to put their minds at rest. As I understood the old Druid legend, they never expected all five colonies to survive. If the Clun choose to split away, it's their decision. The other four have it covered"
Charlotte: "Peter. You offered your help in exchange for your scheme to stop Rupert Bunsen? Am I correct? Well, for a start, we talked in private and we will join you in this mission. As to our other work, I will take Lipton, Christ and Peter to the aquarium tanks. Let them decide over its value. No one else need have knowledge of that. Can we start here?"
Lipton looked over to Peter. Both nodded.
Lipton: "So, to list our obstacles. We need the Coven to raise Jig. We need a vessel we can take first to the sargasso and then to the Caribbean. We need some system of smashing through that glass box, and lastly we need the exact date and time Bunsen plans to evacuate."
Mike Oldpastures: "In...........transit....horsebox.....................I overheard Bunsen speaking..........to............Clarridge.................July 4th............passengers must be............at......the.........island the night before...................they board.........5pm.........hope...to.......leave.......to take off............by 7.30pm."
Peter: "That is brilliant, Mike! Charlotte, can you arrange the eels?"
Charlotte: "That is no problem. Jig hungers deeply. Harry, your risk is great though I think once we are within a hundred miles of Bunsen Island, your scent will be forgotten as the stench of greed will distract them from you. Are you up for this?"
Harry: "Never more so! Their crime must be crushed. The earths resources may never be returned but as a species it is our duty to punish our own. Let us hope Earth forgives the rest of us."
Lipton: "Any idea of the vessel we could use?"
Christ: "I know of a little bay on the North Somerset coast where many super yachts belonging to the wealthy are stored. A small group could steal one, meet the rest of our crew up the coast. This glass, though, any ideas on this?"
Peter: "I have an idea. The witches might not like it. If we can capture a number of the larger congers. Strap explosives to their heads they might explode on impact, sacrificing themselves yet bursting through for the others."
Stella: "It's an idea, but not one I like. Perhaps if the Coven could convene in private, we may have another, better possibility."
The atmosphere had grown heated though it appeared all were in rough alignment. Jesus stood up to speak.
Christ: "Okay! This sounds an adventure of noble intent. Lipton and Peter, Archangels? Yes? If I could arrange a meeting with Poseidons Archmermaids, I bet you half an ounce of top quality hash they could help. Such a meeting would, of course, only be possible if you reveal your wings for a time. As you know, the multitude of pissed off gods will come to seek you out the second you light up. But these archangels of the oceans. That's your best bet."
The conference dissipated into numerous one to ones as possibilities sprung into minds.
Jesus: "We still remain in the dark over the Covens score of human pineal gland collection."
Charlotte: "Very well. There is plenty to work on. Could I ask that the messiah and shamans remain to discuss the other issue alone with the Coven. All others can go. This Bunsen project is the shamans scheme. They shall delegate and communicate with the rest later. But we must put their minds to rest over our other work."
Stella, Charlotte and Dianne sat opposite the son of God and his shamanic associates.
Peter: "There are acts all three of us have carried out that would incur life sentences in this country. Yet never have we killed without other options. We are, hence, open minded. Please, show us to your work."


The circuitous route through lane and track could only be taken by four wheel drive vehicles. In generous spirits, Andy handed Lipton his Land Rover keys.
Andy: "Only you at the wheel, not the haloed fella. I've heard tails of his driving!"
Peter sat beside the shamanic driver as the son of God slumped onto the rear seat, sticking skins together before the engine was even sparked. Diane's Land Rover looked much newer as the girls sped off, Lipton struggling to keep up.
Lipton: "Witch drivers! Should be restricted to broom sticks and deadly nightshade!"
They must have been moving for half an hour since leaving the barn when they left the curving hilltop lane to follow a rugged track that curved around the hill they descended. Leading to a parking area of hard standing covered in grey, dusty gravel. To the inner face the hill formed a natural rock face, near vertical into which was set two large steel doors that covered an opening two lorries could enter side by side. The security looked an impregnable system of engineering. Locks and braces that all slid smoothly. Once opened Charlotte pushed the tall steel door effortlessly aside, guided by ball bearings in greased channels. The cool darkness would have pleased Elmer and the boys, a series of twenty switches flicked lines of fluorescent tubing into life revealing an impressive space. A two hundred foot deep, one hundred wide cuboid workshop cave set into the hill side. Further switches clicked and illuminated walls lined with aquariums. Workstations ran in two lengthy white Formica topped benches. Many structures of glass wear clearly in mid synthesis of some type. Other stations neatly lined with stainless tools that reminded Peter of dentistry equipment, Lipton of autopsy laboratories. The farthest area was occupied by a singular glass tank, thirty odd feet in height, fifty wide and twenty in depth. Whoever worked here took meticulous care. Nothing looked out of place and hygiene levels kept the space free of bacteria or dust. The Witches knew their craft, pride animated their normally poker faced inscrutability.
Charlotte: "Please take a look around but I implore you don't touch anything."
Within two paces Peter felt them. Lipton stopped in his tracks as the voices and emotional shimmering entered their minds. Memories, aspirations, fears, the subconscious rumination of twenty lost souls. Jesus looked less perturbed but closed his eyes as though working the disparate essences to form some mental framework or contextual arrangement.
Charlotte: "Sorry about the mini soul storm. You can minimise it, develop a personal tolerance, shield the darker voices out but it's inescapable. I take some solace in discovering most were knobheads. Some deeply dark impulses were thwarted".
Peter: "How can you work with this?"
Stella produced metallic skull caps not unlike the Jewish yarmulke. The relief was profound though reduction in volume couldn't hide the knowledge of their pain.
Stella: "These help keep the voices at bay. Their suffering is nearly over."
The central work station held twenty glass spheres spaced in a line, twenty centimetres apart. Stepping closer Peter saw each was sealed and contained perhaps 300mg of brown powdered distillate of human Dimethyltryptamine synthesised from the pineal glands the witches had removed from the brain of each of the dead. The psychic disturbance the spherical vials caused the shamans steered them away once realisation of their contents was deduced.
A variety of creatures occupied the aquaria that lined the walls. Crustacea and molluscs seemed most prevalent with numerous species of octopuses in fascinating movement. Further tanks contained varieties of sea urchins, anemones, sponges all in collusion forming an aquatic psychedelic colour diversity. Three of the longest tanks housed eighteen subtle variations of the same Blue Ringed Octopus. Numerous squid moved with an alien elegance. Conger eels, moray eels. Largest and centrepiece tank contained what appeared a complete ecosystem. Shoals of three sizes of fish explored areas as vast leopard skin rays swept by. Dogfish and smaller sharks, perhaps most spectacular two sharks that must have weighed twenty stone.
Lipton: "Impressive aquarium. Must have taken years to build this up."
Charlotte: "Generations. Look, here are the early ones you were asking about, Jigs fingers I call them. Conger eel demon hybrid. One of the first successful creatures, singular yet Jig can whip them all to a single mind, hers. She defies category. They'd have undoubtedly called her a goddess two thousand years ago. Maybe she is. We have a number of such super natural deities now. These early hybrids confirmed the potential. Meat demonology. Flesh demonics. As far as I am aware, the Clun Coven are unique practitioners of the craft. In Jigs lifetime the coven had virtually nil shamanic knowledge. They'd open a slit twixt dimensions and literally grab any demon they could. And just hope they'd somehow fuck."
Peter: "I hope I didn't sound arrogant the other day but the sacramental dimension passage you are considering is highly dangerous, as I tried to explain. I am guessing you understand the dimension such endogenous DMT taken from the dead will create a passage to. The technicalities involved wouldn't be possible by anyone other than a shaman of many decades experience. It isn't as though 20 pineal glands collected DMT makes a wider opening, it is 20 lives and the complex journeys. Imagine grasping twenty reeds together. Passage would take a tricky intuitive series of inter tunnel bursting. Such a passage must be created the instant of the shamans readiness as as soon as it has coalesced, all spirits alert to their loss will be disorientated for a minute, two at most before they pull home their unique channel. The construct wouldn't hold for long. A skilled shaman might burst through but the afterlife has not a single shared dimension. They would require deep instruction from Jesus, the only guy I know who has been. They'd need freinds there. They'd need to make straight for their goal without hesitance, I'm taking it you want a spirit brought back. What if they don't wish to come? Should the shaman preempt any negotiation, sedate the target and get home before there is no bridge left across which to return. I've burst through to dimensions where there is nothing familiar. No up, down, time, light, utter nothingness for a while until new dimensions grew conceivable, during this vulnerable period some vicious predator spirit beings began to attack. Three months I spent sectioned under the mental health act following my lucky escape. I've been thinking. If you are doing this yourselves you stand no chance. I might. Refine the distillate of human DMT. Lipton and I prepare. Smoking would be too wasteful. Ayuashka length journeys out of the question. We'd need to burst through before reality caught a sniff of what we are up to. You'd blend the twenty part sacrament. Intravenous is the only possible way to burst through with such power. Lipton takes a tenth dose to stand astride the membrane, he is attached back here by JC, I inject the greater portion and burst across retaining an umbilical line, some ectoplasmic safety cord round Lipton and my waist. Bursting through I need any information available. Any Witchcraft you have to give me more time would be great help. I'm liable to be there seven or eight minutes before I can kidnap the required soul, then the dive home as the passage dissolves, hoping there's enough to get home. Jesus has done his best to describe what I face but nothing there will be close to anything from this reality. I am aware that this could be the curiosity that finally finishes me, but, fucking hell! What shaman hasn't imagined plunging over there, even for a moment. Twenty deaths must be worth someone familiar. Who is it you need brought back?"
Charlotte: "Queen Boudicca!"
Peter: "............................................Fuck me! Why?"
Charlotte: "The Roman invasion began the promethean journey of the western mind. I also believe something far deeper. The story of human thought can be described as a list of men; Socrates, Homer, Plato, Hypocrates, Hegel, Christ, Aquinas, St Augustine, Copernicus, Galileo, Newton, Descartes, Marx, Darwin, Freud, Hulme, Jung, Einstein, Hawkings, it is a list of men writing for other men. It can't be overstated the journey has been of male thought. Not a single female of consequence is listed. Language from all over Europe speaks in the male singular. The story of man. Mans struggle with nature. The time has come for feminisation. The qualities that have caused the current condition are entirely male. I don't claim a golden age of feminism under native druidry was flipped by Roman invasion, but our turn is now. You have messed it up.
King Prasutagys ruled Britain as an ally of Rome. In his will he left his empire jointly to his daughters and the Roman emperor. His will, however, was ignored and his kingdom was annexed. His wife queen Boudicca and her daughters were flogged and raped. In ad60 the Roman governer was campaigning in Anglsey. Boudicca led the Iceni, the Trinovantes and others in revolt. First they destroyed Colchester. Upon hearing of the revolt, Suetonius hurried down to London, then a 20 year old settlement. The rebels next target.
In terror the Romans evacuated and fled. Boudicca led 100000 to fight legioix Hispana and burned and destroyed London. Archeologists have found twenty skulls, opened as we do. Druids in those days did ritual things with the heads of enemies. She went on and took St Albans. Some 70-80000 Romans and Britains were killed in her destroying the three cities.
Suetonius regrouped in the West Midlands. Nero was on the point of withdrawing from Britain yet Suetonius, with fewer soldiers took on Boudiccas army at the Battle of Wattling Street where they defeated the British, now complacent and drunk. She could have driven the Romans out but failed. She died, some say of illness, others that she took her own life. Yet she could have changed the last two thousand years.
We want her back to fulfill her early promise. Not as a person, as a deity, much like Jig, a goddess. We have created close to a dozen pagan deities now. This will provide the completion of our new religion, the new pagan gods. Working gods. Interventionist gods.
Look, see our octopus collection? Our aim is to create a new flesh demon hybrid species that operate under the single Boudicaan mind. Octoboudicus. These molluscs have no skeleton, two eyes, four pairs of legs. They are bilaterally symmetrical. They have a beak yet their mouths lie where their legs join. They like Seabeds, coral reefs. All species are venomous, alongside camouflage skills and ink projection. Their defence systems are varied. The species we are looking into changing is the Blue Ringed Octopus. Deadly poisonous to man.
They are one of the most intelligent creatures on earth. They negotiate mazes, use tools, utilise both short and long term memory. They have a highly complex nervous system only part of which is localised in the brain. Two thirds of an octopuses neurons are in the nerve cords of their arms. The complex motor skills of octopuses are not organised in their brain using an internal somatotopic map of its body, instead using a nonsomatotopic system unique to these large brained invertebrates. The demonology needed to bind this new creature of supernatural is our speciality. Your shamanic skills combined with our meat demonics can deliver our most powerful higher being. The goddess Octoboudicus!"
Lipton had been admiring the aquarium. There could be few to compare in the country. A truly beautiful and tranquil atmosphere. These girls were dedicated animal keepers if nothing else. The curious aquatic life forms had an aesthetic of a quite perverse beauty. The thought crossed his mind that all the damage on land must be mirrored by parallel destruction of so many unseen wonders.
Peter was blown away. Their Bunsen Ark project that had seemed yesterday such a masterpiece, now looked unadventurous. Reconciling the twenty young lives snuffed out took some thought. But given what was at stake, perhaps the shamans had been inhibited. Less committed to the fight for life on Earth.
The other morning as the conference assembled, all had felt their coming together had been a pivotal moment, historic even. It would be stretching things to suggest they represented the chosen and secret parliament of Albion. There were many missing, Peter thought of the Cornwall Druids, Gloid certainly, to call their group truly representative. But it was a start. The current conservative government whose cabinet were mostly from Britain's most elite public school. Further still, it went beyond party politics as the opposition under Ed Milliband offered nothing different. These bodies didn't represent the people of this country. Not even the nations collective interest. So distanced had the members of parliament elected by dubious systems, so far from the lives of common people, few bothered voting. The Earth in crisis. Resources running low. Hidden wars of barbarism the equal of any before. And still all major parties advanced further economic growth. Higher living standards for each new generation. The creation of more unneeded material goods from fewer mineral resources. An impossible promise a child could see through. All at their small conference had felt this could be the birth of something. A unified belief in sustainable cyclic life. The return to acceptance of humanity's dependence on the environment.
Both thought of Elmer who would now be reaching home. Comforting Jesse on his deathbed. The subterranean empire was now secure with a new king. The uprising Jesse dreamed of in his younger days. The uprising Skree and Lipton had battled to join. The dream could return. Aligned with the Clun Druids and Witches Coven, Jesus Christ, shamans, archangels, slappers, the unified Mystics of Albion. Sciences failure alongside the suppression of the spiritual had created blockage. Peters mystical epiphany could be a foretaste of the volcanic eruption of the repressed mysticism, an earthquake of pagan life forces. Already the climate changes had seen each storm, each hurricane, named like pagan gods. Katrina, Frank, Dianna, Gertrude. Forces beyond mans control.
There was something Peter had also felt growing, a jig saw of dispersed pieces had begun to float in to place in his subconscious. Charlotte had come across so composed. Reserved but fearless. He'd noticed the sparkle in her eyes, the subtle softening of her poker face into a subtle but cheeky grin as Shaz had given her talk to the student birds. Charlotte had a classical beauty that would never be broken, only altered, by age. She had dignity. Respect from the roughian drulads who treated her with respect. Stella was younger. Less worldly. Dianne was the oldest of the three Clun witches yet it was clear Charlotte called the shots. He'd taken on board her feminist lecture and felt gender shame that had nailed a truth he'd never explored thoroughly. Male dominance required address. By everyone. Yet she had listened closely to his statement of shamanic superiority and not seen an arrogance many might have but the factual truth he'd felt duty bound to explain. His bravery in offering to take the journey on, knowing he risked his life and sanity, would he have offered if somewhere deep inside him needed to prove himself to her. They'd not spoken alone, yet, only in company. He sensed she felt the magnetic pull. He hoped so, anyway.
Peter: "I'm in! Lipton? Will you be my second. No touching the void shite either!"
Lipton: "All for one. Death or glory!"
Jesus: "You'll need to spend a few boring nights drinking with me, you know. It's a very, very long time since I found myself there. But it's not something you forget. Kind of reassuring, in a way. Since my resurrection, that famous one, I've died more than once. You call me immortal. But you're wrong. In comparison it may seem that way but nothing lasts forever. Energy, but no arrangement of matter. These last few centuries I've felt it more. It's great to see change, cultural developements, technologies unimaginable. But behind this up beat wreckhead, I do have days when I yearn to rest. You know, for good."
Peter: "This sounds a right laugh, you maudlin about endless life whilst describing what to expect in the world of the dead! How many nights drinking?"

Returning Andys Land Rover the three sat buzzing with excitement and new plans. All began to see the shamanic journey into the spirit world of the dead might have to be undertaken first. Once Boudicca was kidnapped from the afterlife the Coven could begin their Octoboudicus creation. Peter arranged for a week of drinking with Christ, discussing the topography of the dimension Peter was to enter. He would begin tonight. How the coven planned to use their pagan gods was as yet unknown to them though the excitement of such a shamanic undertaking filled them with a fire of purpose. Rupert Bunsen and the Ark could wait a week or two. Peter knew he may not return to see this one play out. He'd need Lipton to keep firm as his link back to reality. Christs memory better not be clouded with drug abuse. The witches might have to sedate the souls whose channels they'd be swiping away. If they had such abilities.


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