Bitter Moon

by R. L. Giddings

  Millie handed me a lump of cheese and a grater then searched the cupboards until she found a small bowl. I went to work mindlessly grating the cheese.

  “Okay,” Millie’s tone was now firm. “The thing is that you were both very close before all this stuff with Stahl kicked off. I can see you’re worried you might be over-thinking things but answer me this: what is his sister doing coming all this way to contact you? She must see there’s a real connection between the pair of you, otherwise – why bother?”

  I struggled to speak and grate cheese at the same time.

  “She didn’t come all the way down here just to see me,” I said. “She’s at university in London. She said that Silas would kill her if he found out that she’d contacted me, but she won’t say why. She wants me to ‘save him from himself.’ What do you think I should do?”

  Millie was deep in thought, carefully arranging the enchiladas on a baking tray.

  “That’s a tough one. Normally, I’d suggest you try and wait him out but this isn’t - by any stretch of the imagination – a ‘normal’ situation. I can’t believe that he didn’t let you know he was still alive!”

  “I don’t think I’ll truly believe it until I see him with my own eyes.”

  I finished grating and held the bowl up for Millie’s perusal.

  “Enough?”

  “Bit more. This sister of his: what’s she like?”

  “Precocious – that’s the word. And she drives like a racing driver. I’m perhaps not the person to ask. I can’t forgive her for sending me that text.”

  Millie took the bowl from me and started sprinkling the cheese over the enchiladas. “You have to be careful how you handle this. She might be doing you a massive favour. Who knows, she might even be your future sister-in-law.”

  I lashed out with my foot but Millie was too fast, hopping back out of range.

  She gave me a big, moon faced grin as she picked up the tray of enchiladas. “I know it wasn’t the best way to find out but look at this way: at least he’s alive.”

  *

  They cremated Terence on a freezing Thursday in February.

  Things had been complicated by the discovery of two bodies at the rectory. The vicar and his house-keeper had both been found in the room downstairs. The vicar’s body had been partly eaten and it had taken a lot of effort on behalf of the Ministry to keep the details back from the media. The vicar had been a popular figure working with victims of domestic violence. His body hadn’t been released until after the coroner’s inquest was concluded.

  There were four of us representing The Bear Garden: me, Millie, Kinsella and Marcus. We were joined by a representative from the Tibetan Embassy a serious looking man with thick pebble glasses. He introduced himself before the service and explained how they were having trouble contacting Terence’s family. They had managed to track down his school by cross referencing it with some of the pictures Stahl had taken on one of her visits, in the hope that they might be able to identify someone who might have known him but, so far, they’d had no luck.

  Stahl had travelled the world accumulating her Novices while all the time being funded by foreign aid money. As plans went it was particularly ruthless, uprooting all those people simply to further her own ends. And now here we were picking up the pieces.

  Inside the crematorium, I was eager to avoid sitting next to Marcus. He looked physically different. He’d been working out and had put on a lot of solid bodyweight, which made him look awkward in his suit. He’d shaved his hair on both sides leaving him with a spiky strip on top. But the most noticeable thing was his eyes, empty now where they had once been so full of mischief. I didn’t know what he’d been doing since he’d joined the Dark Team but it had robbed him of something. The four of us sat on the same row with me on the outside next to Millie, then Kinsella with Marcus situated on the aisle. The man from the Embassy sat across from us.

  It had been quite a difficult morning. Kinsella picked us up from our flat at 10am. Millie wore a simple black dress with her wrap-around coat and a killer pair of heels. I didn’t have a black dress so I had to make do with a navy blue one that was a bit tight under the arms. I dug out my old winter coat which I hadn’t worn for a while. It smelled of damp corridors and herbal tea.

  Neither Millie nor I were expecting to see Marcus. He must have realised how we felt because he didn’t come up to the flat, choosing to stay in the car instead. Kinsella had brought him along as his driver. Marcus hadn’t forgiven me for the fact that he’d missed out on capturing Stahl at the Tower of London. He had worked with me on a lot of the initial detective work but had been side-lined when he’d been attacked, ending up concussed in hospital. Millie had seen a copy of the report he submitted afterwards. It portrayed Marcus as some kind of bed-hopping James Bond figure whilst my role had been reduced to that of his dim-witted assistant. No doubt his current role was his attempt to re-assert himself as the dominant alpha male.

  Marcus stared at me in the rear view mirror as I settled into the back seat. There was a lot of tension between us but I was eager not to let it affect me. My eyes settled on the Rolex watch strapped around his wrist. That was new. It looked like he’d taken a pay-rise since joining the Dark Team.

  Kinsella sat up front while Millie and I sat in the back. Millie narrowed her eyes at him. She spent ten minutes talking about how she’d chosen her lipstick in Selfridge’s, effectively excluding Marcus from our conversation. She was very good at annoying him and kept the conversation flowing until we finally arrived at the crematorium forty five minutes later

  I was, by now, really confused. I’d been left devastated by Silas’ death only to discover that although he was still alive he had made no effort to contact me. Marcus, on the other hand, had changed almost beyond recognition since I’d kissed him outside the National Portrait gallery. Kinsella had no doubt invited him along so that he could show his respects to his former partner, but I doubted that Marcus saw it that way. He’d be reflecting on how he had – for a second time -rescued me from certain death.

  All these thoughts were going through my head as we negotiated the various parts of the service. There was a pipe organ in the corner and at one point a curtain rippled and an organist appeared as if he was part of some magic act. He played one hymn and Millie and I were happy enough to sing along. It was a nice way of lightening the atmosphere and kept our minds off what we were doing there.

  When Kinsella was invited to say a few words, my eyes drifted to the recessed area behind the pulpit. There was a big floral wreath propped up on a porcelain table. I thought at first that the flowers might be fake, a necessary prop in this line of work. It was only when I looked again and realised that they were real that I saw what was propping them up.

  They stood against the head of Terence’s coffin which was draped in what I later discovered to be the national flag of Tibet. It had two snow lions at the bottom clashing beneath a rising sun and it had a real impact on me.

  The thought of Terence lying inside that coffin I found very disturbing. I’d tried really hard not to think about him in the days leading up to the cremation but now it was difficult to avoid the truth. I tried to distract myself by listening to what Kinsella was saying but all I could do was focus on his lips. The words meant nothing against the enormity of Terence’s death. I couldn’t even work out why I felt that way. Terence was no innocent, he’d killed any number of people, many of whom had done nothing wrong, but I was still left with an overwhelming sense of sadness over his death.

  He’d had a terrible gift which others had manipulated to their own ends. Terence was as much a victim in this as anyone. Groomed first by a grieving father and then, later, by Stahl. I wondered what his life would have been like if Kinsella had gotten to him first.

  I just about managed to hold my emotions in check until the end of the service when the door at the back of the chapel opened and a Buddhist monk dressed in red and gold moved down the central aisle. Standing at the front
, he sang whilst accompanying himself with two brass bells. He proceeded to sing a long, low funeral lament. It only lasted a couple of minutes but that was enough for me. At the end my face was wet with tears.

  “That was beautiful,” I said as we stepped out into the sunlight. “I’d like him to sing at my funeral.”

  I’d hoped that we’d just get back in the car then and leave but Millie pointed out that we were going to have to wait around to collect the ashes. The problem was that there was nowhere to wait and the mourners for the next service had already started to arrive. There was a lot of them and as they startled to mingle I worried that we were going to get mistaken for mourners at their funeral or, worse still, interlopers.

  I went across to stand behind a bank of pines which provided some protection from the bitter wind, took out a cigarette and lit it. That had been the reward I’d promised myself for attending. My shoes were starting to pinch and I briefly considered going back and sitting in the car. But then I saw Marcus walking in my direction and my heart sank.

  “Kinsella’s gone to sort out the bill and Millie’s gone with him.”

  “Oh.”

  “He’s just hoping they’ll accept the company credit card.”

  I flared my nostrils and tried to concentrate on the sharp smell of tobacco. I really didn’t want to get into exchanging pleasantries with Marcus but I worried that if I went back to the car, he’d only follow me.

  It felt quite rebellious to be smoking after the confines of the chapel; it also reminded me of the sheer pleasure of being alive. Even the clouds scudding across a slate grey sky seemed captivating.

  Marcus stood next to me, his hands stuffed into his pockets.

  “I can’t believe you’re still smoking those things.”

  “Don’t.”

  “What?” he raised his shoulders in a pantomime of surprise.

  “Don’t pretend that you have any interest in my wellbeing. You’re not my father.”

  He grinned. “No, you’re right. But I’m not the big bad wolf either.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “This whole Terence thing. You think I got some kind of kick out of what happened.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “No, but that’s the way you’ve been looking at me all morning. You think I killed him.”

  I stood completely still, it was an effort not to throw my cigarette down. “I know you killed him, Marcus. I was there, remember?”

  “I might have shot him but I didn’t kill him,” he said angrily.

  “Is there a difference?”

  “If you’re trying to make me feel bad about this then you’re wasting your time. Kinsella’s the one who made the decision. I was just carrying out his orders.”

  I snorted. “Wasn’t that the argument the Nazis used?”

  “Terence was the real killer,” he didn’t look at me, he was watching the growing crowd of fresh mourners. “He killed that vicar and he would have quite happily done the same to you.”

  “But didn’t you feel the slightest bit conflicted? I mean, this wasn’t just some animal. He used to be your partner.”

  Marcus’ hands came clear of his pockets. He was squaring up to me as if ready for a fight. “He was never my partner. We had nothing in common.”

  “Except that you’re both killers. You might tell yourself that you’re different. That you have some sort of moral code, but essentially you’re both the same. He enjoyed killing and I think you’re developing a taste for it as well.”

  Marcus searched for the car key in his pocket and pulled it out. “I do what I do to keep people safe. You’d do well to remember that the next time you’re in trouble.”

  I watched him walk away, his suit pulling across the shoulders. I wonder at my own stupidity at times. How had I ever thought him to be charming? All he was interested in was advancing his own career. I don’t think that he’d ever thought seriously about anything. What was it that Millie said about him?

  If you can withstand his charm offensive for a couple of weeks then he’ll get bored and move on. He’d dropped the charm a long time ago but that didn’t stop him coming back for more.

  I took a long draw on my cigarette, exhaling through thin, dry lips.

  Marcus was right, of course. I couldn’t hold him solely responsible for Terence’s death. I wasn’t even sure why I’d goaded him like that. But how could he have done what he’d done and feel no sense of remorse? There was no need for him to have taken part in Terence’s death. He could so easily have stepped aside bearing in mind the pair’s history together. But he hadn’t done that. Marcus had chosen to take part that day – which I, for one, found baffling. Though he wasn’t completely beyond redemption, he was cutting it fine.

  I threw my cigarette away and followed him across the car park.

  “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to judge.”

  He was about to open the Range Rover but he stopped, grasping the key in one hand. His expression hardened. Like he’d just made a tough decision.

  He said, “Those other witches: back at the University. What do you think he intends to do with them?”

  “Kinsella? I don’t know. There was talk of them being sent them back to their home countries. Why?”

  Marcus gave a derisive snort and unlocked the car.

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “Why not?”

  He half opened the driver’s door. “They’re too dangerous, the Inner Court has already decided that. Far too dangerous.”

  That wasn’t what Kinsella had said back at the Rehab Centre.

  “Well, he can’t keep them locked up forever. I’m surprised no one’s tried to escape yet.”

  He held up three fingers. “Not one of them: three of them. Tried to sneak out this morning. Some Australian woman was behind it.”

  That was bad timing. If Kinsella was forced into a quick decision chances were that it would be one we’d all come to regret.

  “Any idea what he’s planning to do?” I tried to sound nonchalant but failed.

  “Well, you’re right on one count: he can’t keep them at the University for much longer. Seems there’s some prison on the Isle of Wight he’s interested in.”

  A prison!

  “That won’t hold them.”

  “Oh, but he thinks it will. He’s talking about fitting all of them with one of those witch collars. To suppress their powers. You know the ones I mean?”

  He knew I did. Stahl had used a similar collar on me. I’d only had to wear it for a couple of hours but just the thought of it made me feel hot and panicky. I’d already resolved that I’d rather die than let someone put one of those things on me again. And Kinsella was considering making these women wear them around the clock? I found the idea intolerable.

  “When did he tell you all this?”

  “This morning, before we picked you up,” Marcus swung the door open but was in no rush to get inside. He was having too much fun. “Said he’d been in contact with some wizard in the States. Claims he can mass produce them. Perhaps you should ask him about it.”

  *

  We travelled back from the service in virtual silence. Millie had collected the ashes in the end. I’d expected them to be presented in an urn or some-such but she’d been given them in an ordinary cardboard box.

  I sat with it on my lap all the way back to the flat. I was hyper aware of it and found that I couldn’t relax. I was worried that Marcus would brake hard and the ashes would be spilled all over the floor. I really hadn’t expected to be driving back holding Terence’s ashes. It just didn’t seem right. But then, who else was going to take them?

  Marcus insisted on dropping me right outside the flat. It had started to rain quite heavily by the time we arrived and I searched around for a plastic bag so that I could cover the box but nothing came to hand.

  “Take my umbrella,” Millie suggested.

  “You’re going to need it to get home tonight. Bes
ides, it’s not that far.”

  At that, the heavens opened pounding the car with what sounded like hail.

  Millie said, “I’ll see you into the house, at least.”

  We co-ordinated it so that we got out of the car simultaneously but by the time she had made it around to my side I was already soaked. We ran together under the umbrella, across the pavement and up the front steps.

  As soon as I managed to get the front door open, we stepped into the hallway together.

  She held the umbrella out of the doorway to prevent it dripping on the carpet.

  “I was thinking about the pair of us meeting up after work. What do you think?”

  I pulled a face. I wasn’t feeling particularly sociable. “What time do you finish tonight?”

  I knew that she was on security duty at the University. It was taking up a huge amount of the Department’s manpower.

  “I should finish around nine-ish.”

  “That’s a long day for you.”

  “I’ll be fine. Look, there’s a few bars around there. They seem quite nice. One of the places is doing half price cocktails.”

  I looked down at Marcus, sitting behind the wheel, his face obliterated by the hail. I thought about what he’d said. About the prison. I needed to talk to Millie about it but knew that now wasn’t the right time.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Come on. It’s about time we had a bit of fun.”

  It was the last thing I wanted to do but Millie was giving me that bright expectant look she does so well.

  “Alright, so long as you let me buy the first round.”

  “Deal,” Millie stepped out into the rain. “9 o’clock suit you?”

  I watched her make her way down the steps, across the pavement and into the car. I gave her a little wave as they pulled away but I don’t think she saw me.

  I took the stairs up to the first floor, keeping a firm hand on the box. Even when I was safely inside my own flat I couldn’t relax until I’d found somewhere to store it. After wandering around aimlessly examining various cubby holes, I decided to put it on top of the wardrobe in my bedroom. Then I went and poured myself a gin and tonic before running a bath.