by Nhys Glover
“Why do the Watkins want my home?” I asked, feeling my heart-rate speeding up.
“Because only those who belong to the land on which the Way stands can be the Keepers o’ it.”
I frowned. “But the creature is loose. Why press for it now?”
“Loose, aye. But not tamed. They think they can tame it if they own the land.”
“But they can’t? Even if they own Ahman Hall?” Jake clarified.
The older woman shook her head. “Nought in the way they think to use it. There are spells, long forgotten spells, that can capture it and send it ‘ome, but no more. All who’ve tried to do more’ve died and caused untold ‘arm.”
“Not here...” I said, thinking of the other gateways around the world.
She shook her head. “Not ‘ere for ‘undreds of years. But elsewhere. Foolish, foolish Keepers who thought thereselves mightier than what they sought to control.”
“We have the spells to do it,” I told her. “We found the Book of Shadows and the secret chamber. We’re learning what we can about what we’re up against.”
She smiled, a little surprised. “’ow did you find them? I thought me daughter would ‘ave to be the one to guide you.”
That stopped me in my tracks, and I couldn’t quite put the pieces together so they made sense. Seeing my confusion, the woman went on.
“Bryce’s muther. I taught ‘er the ways as a child, and when she went off to Bradford she lived with a lad from Scotland whose family were Keepers there. The lad didn’t believe in the Old Ways but he knew the spells. He ‘ad a copy of them written doon. I ‘ave that copy. But o’ course they’re useless unless the words are pronounced proper. If ‘e even wrote ‘em doon proper. I ‘oped he’d taught Brenda how to say them. I ‘oped you’d bring ‘er through so she could work the spells for you.”
“Is that why Bryce has been so insistent about me contacting his parents?” I asked, suddenly understanding.
“No, it’s nought the same for ‘im, poor mite. He ne’er knew his dah, and his mah was off her ‘ead more’n not. Me girl lost the will to live after Jamie left. Or died. Nobody knows fer sure what ‘appened to ‘im.” She paused to consider her next words, looking rather guilty. “So, it was easy fer me to use Bryce’s need to hear from ‘is parents fer me own purposes. Fer the good of all, you understand.”
Part of me hated that this supposedly loving grandmother had manipulated her lad so cruelly. She didn’t know if I could or couldn’t bring her Brenda through. Giving the boy that hope was wrong, no matter whether it was for the good of all or not.
“My Aunt Daphne knows how to pronounce the spells. She was the one who refreshed the wards fifty-four years ago. Unfortunately, my mother never knew anything about the standing stone. Never wanted to, I’d say.”
“We encouraged their marriage. Though your dah didn’t believe in the Old Ways, he did like the idea of livin’ the life of the gentry. And he fancied your mah well enough. Some say too much. An old dog who finally give ‘is ‘eart, gives all o’ it. His ‘eart broke when she suffered that first stroke. Ne’er thought she’d recoover. Couldn’t stand to see ‘er dyin’ a day at a time, so they say.”
So, more manipulations. Paying into a person’s personal needs for the greater good. Daddy wanted the life the Hall promised him, as well as my mother.
I think I’d known why my father spent more and more time at work after Mummy had her first stroke, but having it explained by an outside observer made me feel... better. It hadn’t been a matter of not caring enough, it had been a matter of caring too much. Of course, it provided no insight into his apathy where I was concerned, but I had already come to understand that long ago.
“Did yer say Daphne told yer?” Mrs Mitchell asked.
I nodded. “I have The Gift. I see ghosts. And my aunt is one of them. An essential part of my team. But I can’t call up spirits though..”
“Do you know who these Watkins are who want to take control of the gateway?” Jake asked, keeping on track.
“Bryce said one of ‘em killed your dog.”
“And another killed my solicitor, Mr Andrews, after threatening him repeatedly since Daddy died,” I added.
Her eyes grew huge. “They’ve killed a man? That’s bad, very bad. It means they’ve embraced the Dark.”
Jake nodded, his face a craggy slab of granite. “We need names. We need to know what we’re facing.”
The woman looked at him properly for the first time. “Don’t know the names of them that left....” She looked closely at Jake in the bad light. “You remind me o’ someun. Does yer family come from these parts?”
Jake tensed a little more, if that were possible. “Not that I know of. Never knew me dah.”
“Probably nought. But you look like a Smith. The Smiths follow the Old Ways.”
“Smith?” It was a common enough name, like Jones. But I remembered now there were a couple of Smiths on the family tree. Not part of the direct line. Usually marrying second sons and such. But there was another Smith I’d heard of recently... Where?
Jake got there before I did, his eyes no more than slits. “DC Smith. He’s not from here, is he?”
If a detective on this case followed the Old Ways, he might be for or against us in this challenge. Could he be related in some way to Jake? That would be funny. Family members on either side of the law.
“Is that Jason Smith? The police detective from Skipton? Aye, he’s one o’ ours. Hard-nosed young’un that un, but ‘e still believes in the Old Ways.”
“So, he’d understand about Andrews’ death? He’d understand that Watkins is not just a greedy man after a choice piece of English architecture?” Jake pressed.
“Aye, that’s right, that’s right. If you’ve told ‘im the reason Andrews died, then ‘e’ll know.”
An idea came to me. “Would he help us track the creature? If anyone would know where it had been, the police would, even if they didn’t know what they were tracking.”
“Talk to ‘is mah. Make sure ‘e’s with us, before you ask ‘im to share confidential information with you,” she suggested, scrunching up her face as she thought. “I’ll give Jessie a call now, if you want?”
I nodded enthusiastically, and Jake grunted a little more cautiously.
The little woman went to the sideboard where a landline sat. While she dialled the number, I exchanged a few quiet words with Jake.
“What did you think of him? I’ve only really dealt with DS Moore.”
Jake shrugged. “A plod. Haven’t ever had much time for them in the past. But if he can protect you...”
My heart sank, because I could finish that sentence for him ‘...when I’m gone.’
Bryce’s grandmother began speaking, and I tried to pick up the gist of the conversation from the part I could hear.
“Jessie, it’s Angela... Yes, I’ve heard... She’s with me now... Aye, poor lass. But she ‘as ‘elp. My Bryce is with ‘er... That’s what I’m ringing about. Is yer Jason with us?... I know he ‘as a duty to the force, but what aboot ‘is duty to the Old Ways?... You know they can’t do nought about the creature. It’ll keep killin’ until it’s caught... Aye, make that clear to ‘im. She’ll need ‘im... Have him call ‘er. He needs to ‘ear what’s really goin’ on... Aye, awright then, lass. Good to speak to yer. Give me regards to Tom.”
She hung up and came back to where we were sitting, our thighs almost touching. “He knows summat’s not right. But ‘e’s reluctant to step ov’r the line. Ambitious. But if ‘e can see the only way to end the troubles is to ‘elp you, then I think ‘e’ll agree. I said for ‘er to get ‘im to call you if ‘e wants to ‘elp. If ‘e does call, you need to tell ‘im everythin’. Show ‘im the secret chamber and the books. It’ll take everythin’ to ‘ave him siding with you ov’r the force.”
I nodded, glancing at Jake, who seemed a little more cautious. I imagined trusting a policeman would not come naturally to him.
“What you ‘a
ve to understand is that there are believers everywhere int’ area. And they understand what’s goin’ on. You can draw on us for ‘elp. The spells’ll need more’n yer blood to activate ‘em. We’ll be there when you need us.”
“Blood?” My voice wobbled as I said the dreaded word. Thoughts of Satanic rituals filled my mind. An innocent virgin like me laid out on a stone, her living heart cut out of her body and fed to the powers of Evil.
My thoughts must have been written on my face, because the aging woman laughed, and it was so far from a witch’s cackle as a person could get.
“No sacrificing humans or animals. Nought the Wiccan way. But a small amount of blood, life’s blood, activates wards and spells. A shallow cut to the palm ‘tis all it takes.”
“How many need to join me?” I asked a little more steadily. I could cut my hand. That was not such a big deal, was it?
“Thirteen. The sacred number of lunar moons in a year.”
“Thirteen? God, where am I going to find thirteen people to carry out the rite? I think Daphne only had her and her two friends.”
“That was to refresh an existin’ ward. You’re attempting to capture summat that’s very powerful. Guns and ropes won’t catch this beastie, only blood and magic will.”
I nibbled at my lip nervously. “If the Way is open, won’t more creatures come through? Shouldn’t we be closing it to keep whatever is down... sorry, not down. On the denser level from coming through?”
“Findin’ the way through in’t an easy task. Just ‘cause a door’s open don’t mean there’s a host of beasties waiting on’t other side to coom through. Those belongin’ to other levels know nought aboot us, just as we know nought aboot them. An’ they ‘ave no desire to be ‘ere. This in’t their world. So, if one cooms through it’s by accident.” She paused as she counted on her fingers.
“The Way ‘as been open for four years, am I right? And summat ‘as only now coom through. Closin’ the gate an’ then openin’ it again, to put the beastie back where it came from, would take a lot of power. I think we’re better off savin’ it fer when we need it. Fingers crossed, another beastie won’t find its way through in the meantime.”
“I say that: fingers crossed. But isn’t it a Christian superstition, not Pagan?” I asked, crossing my fingers to indicate what I meant.
“Pagan. The cross is nought the sole domain o’ Christianity. The Celtic Cross is powerful, an’ where the lines cross is a point of power. That’s where the crossed fingers coom from.”
Huh, I’d been enacting a pagan superstition or ritual all these years without knowing it.
Bryce’s grandmother smiled impishly at me. “And you know what Ahman means, don’t yer lass?”
“Amen?” I offered, having never really thought about the odd name of the hall.
“Ahman means spirit in the Old Tongue. Some say it came from the Egyptian God Amon Ra. The spirit o’ the sun. I don’t know if that’s true or nought.”
I felt a little like I’d been living on the top of an iceberg, thinking only the little part I saw was all there was. A bit like Jake’s good side. Now I was seeing level upon level beneath everything. And it went much deeper than just me seeing ghosts others didn’t see.
“What troubles you, lass?” Jake asked, seeing my distress.
“I feel like the further down this rabbit hole I go, the crazier it gets. Things I took for granted turn out to be something else entirely. How can someone like me hope to succeed when I don’t even know how to play the game?”
He leaned in to brush a loose tendril back from my overheated face. His dark eyes were tender. “You can do this, I know you can. And the more we dig, the more help we find for you. You’ve got at least thirteen pagans who’ll join your monster-catching ritual now.”
“Aye, we can find ‘em. Our ways aren’t like any religion you know of. No going to church or Sunday school. We pass on our knowledge to our children at the knee, and we carry out our small rituals in private at eight important times o’ the year. No grand to-do about any of it. Our ways coom from nature. They support our bond to nature. That’s all. When we’re in harmony with nature we thrive. When we’re not, we sicken an’ die. Most o’ the world is sick an’ dyin’ ‘cause humanity ‘as lost its link to nature. And as we destroy nature we destroy ourselves.”
I nodded. I was all for ecology. But I had never seen it in quite this way before.
“You ‘ave more questions fer me, you coom on doon an’ ask. Yer not alone, Missy. Ne’er alone.” The tiny woman bobbed her head for effect.
My heart lifted.
Chapter Seven
The trip home passed in the blink of an eye. My mind was so occupied with all the new information that I was barely aware of the scenery flying past or Jake’s warm hard body under my arms. This was big. Far bigger than I could ever have expected. And I was dead in the centre of it all.
Once inside the house, I was immediately aware of the chaos that had occurred. The crate was toppled on its side, the bedding strewn across the floor. Rex’s bed had been removed yesterday, but the smaller beds had been upturned, as had the food and water dishes. As I wandered through the house, I saw more and more signs of the hurricane’s path. In the solar, my easel was knocked over, the table with my pallet and paints had also been upturned, scattering paint across the floor. Even the cushion for the window-seat had been pulled out.
Jake glanced my way in concern, thinking we’d been burglarized in our absence. I knew different. My two remaining pets had decided to punish me for leaving them behind. Well, Fred was punishing me, I imagined Percy joined in just for the fun of it.
“It’s the Despicable Duo at work,” I told Jake with a resigned huff. More cleaning up to do. As if there wasn’t enough on my plate already.
“That slinky-rat is more trouble than he’s worth,” Jake commented with disgust, righting the easel and returning the half-finished canvas to its place. Luckily, it had escaped damage.
“He’s just spoiled rotten. And that wasn’t my doing. His previous owner did it. I just inherited his bad habits. When I had my car, I could take him and ... and Rex,” my voice caught on the old dog’s name, and I felt the pain of his loss all over again. But I pushed on. “I took them everywhere with me. More so I didn’t have to come home to this carnage. I’ll be looking for missing stuff for days.”
“Where are they?”
“Hiding out, I imagine. They’re both cannier than ordinary animals. They’ll know I’ll be angry.”
We wandered into the library where Mason was still hard at work. The devastation hadn’t extended to this room, I was pleased to note. Probably because Mason wouldn’t have allowed it.
“Well, how did it go? Any further ahead?” Mason asked, looking up from the Logos to stare at us stonily. He too was miffed at being sidelined, but unlike the beasties he hadn’t acted out.
“I’ll go straighten up while you fill His Lordship in on what we discovered,” Jake offered, probably because he wanted to spend as little time with Mason as possible.
I nodded, taking the window-seat, so I could appreciate the last of the afternoon sunshine. It would rain in another hour, bringing with it earlier than usual darkness. From this vantage point the Tudor ruins could plainly be seen. It was a view that never grew old.
“Well, is she a member of the pagan families?” Mason prodded impatiently.
“Yes. And it seems they’re all still following the Old Ways. It’s the younger members of the Watkins’ family, who moved away to the city, who are intent on using their knowledge to gain power over the gateway and the creatures that come through it. Mrs Mitchell says they know they can’t do that unless they own the land. And she also believes they can’t do it anyway, because the denizens of the other levels are untameable.
“One interesting piece of information, though. She thought Jake looked familiar, like a Smith.”
“Smith? There were a few Smiths on the tree,” Mason said with interest.
&nbs
p; “Yes. And DC Smith is a member of that family. I hadn’t considered it because Smith is such a common name. I can’t help wondering if he and Jake are related. Wouldn’t that be something?”
“Ironic. Although I imagine families are often split, with one side following the law and the other breaking it.” The disgust in his voice was all too apparent.
“Jake doesn’t believe he has a link to this area. It’s all a big coincidence as far as he’s concerned. He’s as stubborn as you are.”
Mason ignored the jibe and went back to the original point. “So, if DC Smith is with you, does that mean he knows you had nothing to do with the murder?”
“Mrs Mitchell rang his mother. She said she’d get him to ring us if he wants to help us. If he does, we have to show him everything we’ve found, to convince him it’s all true.” I sighed heavily. “I must admit, I’m tired of trying to convince people about what I know to be the truth.”
Mason stood up and joined me on the window-seat. He took one of my hands and enclosed it between his.
“Maybe the reason you feel like you’re swimming against the tide is because you are. Maybe if the rest of us don’t believe something is true, then maybe it’s because it isn’t.”
“There was a time when people thought the world was flat,” I argued. “Anyone who didn’t believe that to be true was crazy. But now we look back and ask who were the crazy ones? And I read somewhere that once everyone ‘knew’ the four-minute mile was physically impossible to break. Now lots of people break it. Those first people were going against the tide, but they weren’t wrong.”
Mason squeezed my fingers and nodded, acknowledging my point. “I can’t convince you, can I?”
I shook my head. “No. Because what Jake and I perceive is different from what you perceive. Jake is like you, in that he doesn’t want to believe in flaky things like fate or destiny. But he can’t deny ghosts exist because he experiences them. Me, I’m starting to believe there is a destiny, and we’ll have to follow it, kicking and screaming every step of the way, if necessary, but we will follow it. I’m following mine. And more and more people are joining me, because they share the same destiny.”