by Jordan, G R
“Well, bit of an ‘in your face’ to the priest then. I’m sure that went down well,” chortled Kirkgordon.
“It’s no laughing matter, Kirk. The man was serious. So much so that the authorities took his still-alive body, placed it in a cage and hung him right up on the hill where the crows used to gather. A warning to all who would dare to speak such things again. Over the weeks he starved to death and was pecked at by the birds. But then the body disappeared.”
“So some of his cronies nabbed the body. Not a difficult trick.”
“No, Kirk, it wasn’t stolen – there was an armed guard. It just vanished. They say the devil took him at his word and has kept his body to one day deliver vengeance on the town.” Jane Goodritch looked over absent glasses at Kirkgordon.
“Yeah, but it’s all ice cream and bracing sea breezes these days. None of that nonsense. No witchcraft or devilry here. Is there?”
“Keep your eyes alert, Kirk. My eyes are always alert.” Jane shuffled off back to her desk at the building’s entrance, leaving Kirkgordon to ponder her words. With little else to do, Kirkgordon continued to look at the exhibits. All alluded to the story Jane had so vehemently described. Stories though, just stories, thought Kirkgordon. After all, if there was anything to it, old Havers would have had someone down here by now to sort it all out, wouldn’t he?
On leaving the exhibition, Kirkgordon thanked Jane for her time and wished her a good night. He opened the door to the outside world but something was ringing in his mind. I should just leave it, it’s just a dumb thought. Isn’t it? Okay, just to clarify, I’ll ask.
“Sorry, Jane, just one thing about that story of yours?”
“But of course, Kirk. How can I help?”
“When they hung him in the cage, overlooking the bay, where was it?”
“Ah, that. It’s one of our scenic vantage points. You may have seen it on the town maps, the ones we give the tourists. Gibbet Point. Have you heard of it?”
“Yes. Yes, I have.” Kirkgordon held in his head in a slight dip, a typical pose when he was thinking.
“Are you alright, Kirk?”
“Me? Oh, yes. Sorry, just pondering something. And thanks again. I do know the place.”
“Okay then. Goodbye, Kirk.”
“Goodnight, Jane. And it’s Kirkgordon.”
“What is?” But he was gone.
Austerley was avoiding “Grahamsey” as best he could. The damned man kept popping in every ten minutes just to make sure that “happy wee Indy” was okay. Despite Austerley recounting some of his wilder times with Calandra, his work colleague and former lover, the manager still seemed keen on him. If he didn’t stop, Austerley was going to have to take action.
All this was distracting him from more important thoughts. The necklace the young nurse had been wearing had seemed familiar but he was struggling to place it. Austerley racked his mind to recall where he had seen it before. It had definitely not been on a person but rather in a book he had been leafing through. But which one?
In his role as Professor of Occultic Affairs at Miskatonic University, Austerley had travelled to many libraries that are not well known. Or, at least, their special collections are known to only a few select scholars. It was one of these he had been in. Now, where was it? Austerley thought back, imagining himself sat at a reading table in the collections room. There was a design on the side of the table, some sort of shape. A triangle. Yes, a triangle. Nuts, too. And chocolate. Ah yes, Switzerland! He remembered the Rococo style, designed by Peter Thumb. It had been quite beautiful. Visualizing the book in front of him, he wrote the title on a scrap of paper. Certain books should not be mentioned out loud.
Austerley looked at the digital clock on the side table. Ten o’clock. Where the hell was Kirkgordon? He said he was going to drop in. The one time he might be of some use and he’s not here. Austerley saw a bright flash of colour just outside his room.
“Graham?” Due to the pestering, Austerley was insistent on calling the manager by his proper name.
“Ah, Indy. Just checking you’re settling in alright. Can’t have our new guest left in any pickles, can we?”
“I’m fine. I was fine. I will be fine. Just bloody well leave me alone and give me some peace.”
“Right you are, Indy. I’m just up the corridor if you need me.”
Austerley looked at the scrap of paper with the book’s title written on it. I wouldn’t mind travelling to Switzerland myself. If it wasn’t for this foot – or, rather, the lack of it. He looked up and saw a figure entering the room. “Kirkgordon,” he swore out loud.
“I’ve just got here and you’re in that tone already. What’s up? Grahamsey not saying hello?” said Kirkgordon, breezing into the room.
“About bloody time. Where have you been?”
“Giving you space, so don’t complain or I’ll sit beside you all day.”
“You need to phone Havers.” Kirkgordon raised his eyebrows. “I need a book. It’s in the Abbey Library of Saint Gall. Havers should know it. I’ve written the title down.”
Kirkgordon read the title. “Is that Dutch?”
“No. It’s not any language you’ll know. But Havers will know what it is. Don’t mention it to anyone else.”
“Why? It’s just a book.”
“No it’s not. There are some books you don’t want to be advertising your fondness for. Just get hold of Havers and get me that book. Okay?”
“Sure thing. I’ll get hold of him tomorrow.”
“No!” shouted Austerley before dropping his voice. “Tonight. Do it now, with your phone or tablet or fax or something, but tonight! It’s important.”
“Okay. But I’m catching that nurse for a pint later, so it had better be quick.”
“The nurse that was in here earlier?” asked Austerley.
“Yes, just a social drink. I’m not cradle snatching.”
“Just be careful, Churchy. Be careful.” With that, Austerley turned to the window.
Well, thought Kirkgordon, that was odd. He wandered back out to the car park, returning a wave to Graham as he passed the front desk. Kirkgordon chortled to himself. I bet he’s got Austerley wound right up.
The night was dry but fresh, and the trees made a brushing sound as several branches blew against each other. Looking inside the glass-fronted entrance, Kirkgordon could see Tania having an exchange with Graham. It seemed heated and he was shaking his head. She stormed out of the entrance, still dressed in her blue scrubs, with her jacket in her left hand. The wind blew her scrubs tight in a pleasing fashion, showing off her figure. Just a pint, Kirkgordon reminded himself.
“Sorry, I’m a wee bit late. Didn’t have time to change, so I thought I’d just go like this, if that’s okay,” said Tania.
“I doubt you’d look bad in anything.” Kirkgordon died inside. How cheesy was that? It sounded like he was hitting on her. Not a great start.
Tania dipped her head, as if in a blush, before extending her arm for Kirkgordon to take. “My car’s over there. Probably best we take it as it’s close to closing time,” she suggested. Kirkgordon escorted her to a Renault Clio, deep red with a black interior. Hanging from the mirror were little skeletons and skulls, plastic and cheap, giving the effect of a Halloween stall.
“You like death, do you?” asked Kirkgordon, settling into the passenger seat.
“They’re just little knick-knacks, that’s all. I’m a nurse. Death is all around me.”
“Bit morbid, at your age.”
“Just honest.” Tania turned the ignition and reversed before driving out of the car park. “It’s just all the ideas and legends around death I like. Some of them are pretty cool.” She smiled at Kirkgordon, who returned the grin and then found himself continuing to stare at her while she focused on the road. Just a pint, remember, just a pint.
“Austerley’s your man, anyway. He knows all those legends. Bit of an expert on them,” said Kirkgordon.
“Really? He just seems li
ke a grumpy old fool.”
“He’s just worried about your manager. He thinks he’s after him.” Tania burst out laughing. “What? It doesn’t seem that infeasible.”
“You guys need to get with the twenty-first century. Graham isn’t gay. He’s just very colourful.”
“You mean camp.”
“Okay, yes, camp. But trust me, he’s not into guys. In fact, the reason he was arguing with me was to try to get me to work overtime tonight.”
“What’s that got to do with it?” asked Kirkgordon.
“Well, he knew I was seeing you for a drink. He was trying to eliminate the competition. But don’t worry,” Tania said, stroking Kirkgordon’s thigh, “I put him in his place. I’ve already got my admirer for the evening.”
Man, she’s forward, thought Kirkgordon. “I said one drink.”
“We’ll see.” Her hand was still on his thigh.
Tania
You had to hand it to the English, their bitter was blooming good! Kirkgordon finished the third pint and sat back happily on the stool, looking at the young woman in front of him. She was matching him drink for drink but her stature meant the alcohol was having a greater effect on her. There was something carefree in her ways that really struck a chord with Kirkgordon. She seemed unfettered by the troubles he always carried with him.
“Tania, I think the barman’s getting a bit pissed off with us. He’s got the brush out and everything.”
“Well, let’s go on somewhere else. I’m not on until two or three tomorrow. Let’s go have some fun,” said Tania, grabbing Kirkgordon’s hand before he could offer an answer. Kirkgordon left a fiver tip on the table for keeping the barman from his early finish. The bar had been empty except for the two of them, and having announced they were only there for a quick one, Kirkgordon felt guilty at keeping the tired-looking barman back.
The next half hour was spent walking the town looking for another bar, but all were closed for the night. Tania pointed out the gentleman’s club that was open until 3 am but Kirkgordon didn’t go to those places as a rule and certainly felt he already had enough to deal with in the shape of his companion.
“Maybe we should call it a night, Tania. It’s one in the morning and I’m knackered.”
“Time for a walk to wake you up, then. Look – the moon’s coming out from the clouds. I know just the place. Let’s go.” She smacked his backside cheekily and ran off. Just a walk, thought Kirkgordon, it’s just a walk.
The walk turned into a hike up a familiar hill. In the dark the place seemed to have more foreboding, but Gibbet Point was lit up postcard-fashion by the moon, which also set the water of the bay shimmering. Tania sat down on the grass overlooking the bay and tapped the ground for Kirkgordon to join her. He did so, leaving a small gap between them which Tania quickly closed. As she looked up into his face, Kirkgordon noticed the necklace with the symbol Austerley had mentioned. His partner’s warning came back to him.
“Do you know what this place is?” asked Tania.
“Actually I do. ’Cause I’m a regular history guru.”
“Go on then, Mr Schama, tell me all,” laughed Tania.
“Well, there was this pirate fella who thought he should run the place after coming back from plundering afield. However, the locals said ‘No way, Jose’ and he attacked them. Lots of people died and he was taken but made a pact with the devil for revenge. Have I got it straight?”
Tania laughed. “Someone tell Mr Schama his job is safe!” Reaching up behind his head, she stroked his neck gently. “You seem to have missed out the love aspect.”
“Oh. Power, greed, slaughter and devil worship but there’s a love interest? Sounds intriguing.”
“Listen, Mr Sceptical. There’s more romance in this dead pirate than there is in you.”
“Go on then, prove it.”
“Well,” said Tania, “when he came back from his travels, he had a wife from the Caribbean. They said she was a black beauty with eyes of fire and long dark flowing curls. Some said she was over a hundred years old but had made a deal with the Evil One to keep her youth. She was full of black magic and power, capable of seducing anyone in her path. One of the reasons the townsfolk didn’t like Captain Smith returning was that his new bride would dance on board the deck of the ship in full view of the town.”
“That seems to be a bit much, being against someone for dancing. There was film back in the eighties where a whole town was against dancing but this young lad took some of the other young people across the state border and—”
“It wasn’t the dancing. You are such an idiot. And how am I going to know about some eighties film?”
“It’s a very good film, actually.”
“I don’t care,” laughed Tania. “Listen, when she danced, she danced naked, sacrificing animals.”
“Ah, now that’s just unsociable.”
“Oi!” Tania elbowed Kirkgordon in the ribs. “Shut up and listen.”
“Listening, ma’am.” Kirkgordon rubbed some sore ribs.
“Good. Now, the townsfolk, on seeing this, grabbed her one night and burned her as a witch. The ashes sank into the ground after some heavy rain and they say her soul still inhabits the area. That was why he attacked the village. They took his love and so he demanded revenge.”
“Tania, I have to be honest and say never write a romance book, ’cause it isn’t going to sell,” laughed Kirkgordon. She dived at him, knocked him to the ground and clambered on top.
“Let’s have some fun,” said Tania.
“This is fun.”
“No, real fun. Fancy a skinny dip?”
Part of Kirkgordon screamed yes but another part knew this was crazy – not the actions of a man trying to get back with his wife. Caught in two minds, he prayed for an escape. He felt his phone vibrating. “My phone’s buzzing, Tania. Sorry, at this time of night I really need to check it. It must be important.”
Sighing, Tania rolled off. “Probably just an update for your calendar,” she muttered.
Kirkgordon pressed the screen on and saw a text message: Mr Austerley in hysterics. Please come. Come quick.
“Tania, it’s Indy. Sounds like he’s wrecking the joint. I need to get back to the care home.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“There’s no need. I can cope.”
“Hey, he’s my patient too.” She took Kirkgordon by the hand and started to race down the hill. As they made their way back down the hill, Kirkgordon wondered how he got himself into these positions. Why do I let myself get so close to the fire? I tell Austerley to back off the occult but I keep getting dragged in by women. Although Alana would question the word “dragged”.
Racing into the town, they found a taxi to take them to the care home. The drive was short but Kirkgordon noticed that Tania insisted on holding his hand. He made sure they parted hands on leaving the taxi. There were lights on in the entrance and Graham was in a panic at the front desk.
“Mr Kirkgordon! Good, I was just about to call the police. He’s very violent. Got the whole place awake.”
“Ah, bollocks,” said Kirkgordon. He recognized the results of an Austerley nightmare. Having babysat him for over a month now, he was used to the reactions. However, they had been less frequent recently and Kirkgordon had hoped they were gone.
He tore down the corridor, Tania racing behind with Graham bringing up the rear in a loud chequered shirt. On entering Austerley’s room, Kirkgordon saw Austerley, dressed in only a pair of boxers, on his single foot delivering a right hook to Clive’s jaw.
“Enough!” shouted Kirkgordon and strode forward, picking Austerley up by the throat and driving him back to the bed. He stared into Austerley’s eyes and shouted, “You’re not in trouble. It’s safe. No dragons. Farthington is not here. He’s gone, Austerley. Gone! Calm down. Calm! Now! Calm.”
Austerley’s eyes were wide and uncomprehending but under Kirkgordon’s influence he started to unwind. Gradually he looked around, assuring hi
mself of his location. Finally at peace, he stared at the others in the room.
“What the hell do they want?” asked Austerley.
“Everyone leave, please,” ordered Kirkgordon. “Just leave. You too, Tania, thanks. Everyone, thank you, just leave and close the door. It’s okay, I have this.” When he was sure everyone had left, Kirkgordon turned to face Austerley again and released the grip on his throat. “You okay?”
“Bloody magic. Give me my dressing gown. And some water too.”
“Yes, your majesty,” whispered Kirkgordon to himself and turned to retrieve the items. Once Austerley was dressed and sitting up, Kirkgordon started the questioning.
“Was it Farthington again?” Farthington was the dragon that had ripped off Austerley’s foot. The incident had left Austerley with recurrent nightmares.
“Yes. Well, mostly.”
“Mostly? Not all, then?”
Austerley shook his head.
“What else?”
“A cage. A round one, tall enough for a human. Swinging in the wind.”
Kirkgordon nodded. It was best not to question why at this point, but to let Austerley recount the details in his own time.
“Do you remember that programme?” Austerley continued. “Dahl, the children’s writer. His stories. Tales of something.”
“The unexpected.”
“Yes, that’s it. But not any of the stories. Just the start. I can see the start of it.”
As Kirkgordon recalled, the start was a woman dancing in silhouette with not much on.
“That it?”
“I think so. Are there any sleeping tablets?” asked Austerley.
“Yeah.” Kirkgordon searched in Austerley’s belongings and threw him some tablets.
“That’s a double dose.”
“Yeah,” answered Kirkgordon.
Austerley dropped the tablets with a glass of water and lay down on the bed. Taking a chair in the corner of the room, Kirkgordon watched his partner fall asleep. He knew not to fall asleep himself or he would end up waking in the chair, sore and groggy, in a couple of hours. As he watched Austerley drop into a deep sleep, the wounded leg seemed to stare at Kirkgordon. He had seen amputees before, in Sierra Leone when he had worked for a client, but this was a wound he had caused. The stump was just there, reminding him of that fateful arrow, his arrow, pinning Austerley to the platform that had collapsed. He could still see Farthington, the dragon, separating foot from leg with one of his three heads. And though Havers had told him on many occasions that Kirkgordon had done the right and necessary thing, it still didn’t take the guilt away.