"Is Foxworth dead?" he said, his voice ringing hollowly in the empty room.
"Do you care?"
Simon shrugged. "I knew they'd kill him in the end, one way or another. When he took the jade he signed his own death warrant. Poor Johnny, always was light-fingered." It was obvious from his slurred speech that he was drunk.
"Where's Heather?"
"They killed my mother and father, you know, but then you probably guessed as much. You saw through the charade from the start, didn't you? You and my mother were so alike. You could have been her son. It was what she wanted more than anything else in the world. Another child. After giving birth to me the doctors told her she would not be able to have any more children, and I was always such a disappointment to her. She was resistant to the Tashkai as well, you know. That's why she had to die. But it was safe for the Tashkai to get rid of them then. The deal had been made and my life had been bargained away." There was a tone of total defeat in his voice
David crossed the room quickly and grabbed Simon by the lapels of his jacket, dragging him up from his chair. "You can't just sit there and accept it. For Christ's sake, where's Heather?"
For a moment something flickered in Simon's dead eyes. "They promised me you wouldn't be touched if I let them take Heather."
"Take Heather where?" David shook his friend, trying to bring him out of his drunken apathy. "For God's sake, tell me what you know."
"They promised me. I did it for you, so you would be spared."
David hit him. An open handed slap across the face, not particularly hard, but enough to bring tears to Simon's eyes.
"Father was so desperate, he would have done anything to hold on to his wealth. When he met Otani it seemed like the answer to his prayers. Otani would bail him out, put up the money so the pearl farm could continue. All he asked in return was this house and the soul of his son." Simon laughed bitterly. "Well what else could he do? It was an offer he had to accept, wasn't it?"
"Take me to Heather. Now."
Simon staggered across to the french doors, pulled them open and lurched outside. "This way," he said and stumbled across the lawn to orchard.
Heather stood at the edge of the pool, staring down into the dark, impenetrable water. She was no longer cold, instead her body felt enwrapped in warmth. The thing in the water was circling at the far side of the pool, and she watched, fascinated as the ripples spread across the water, making tiny wavelets that lapped at her feet.
She watched the wake change direction and head towards her. She felt no fear, just a burning curiosity and a deep, sensual arousal. She gasped as the water boiled in front of her and Anna broke from the water.
Heather had never seen anything so beautiful. Water beaded like tiny diamonds on the sleek, black fur that covered Anna's body.
"Why Heather?" David asked as he followed Simon's erratic path through the fruit trees. "Why did they choose her?"
Simon glanced back at him. "She's an artist. It’s a talent they can use. That's why Anna ordered me to invite you here. Foxworth said you had found yourself a woman, told me what she did. Anna overheard him and from then it became an obsession with her. You don't realise, David. They're so driven by the need to acquire. It's a sickness." The air was sobering him up. They had reached the place where orchard merged with woodland. "Just a little further."
"I still don't understand why you went along with it, with any of it."
"Do you think it was an easy choice to make? I didn't know about the Tashkai when I first met Anna and her father. It was only later that I learned the truth. After the Margaret Courtney incident. When I first went out to Japan I was invited to stay at Otani's house. Margaret and her husband were houseguests there. She was giving a series of recitals across the province.
"I went to one of them with Anna as my escort. I think I fell in love with her that night. Sitting in a darkened auditorium with a beautiful woman at my side, listening to the most wonderful music. And Anna was enchanting. Everyone seemed to be captivated by her, especially Margaret. In the dressing room after the performance, I could see there was something between them that went much deeper than friendship.
"I was jealous. I wanted Anna myself. And that night I had her. She came to my room after everyone else had gone to bed. We made love. My God, I had never experienced anything like it. From that moment on I would have done anything to keep her." Simon stopped abruptly and leaned against an oak tree. "Do you know what Otani calls us, calls me, Margaret and everyone else who falls under Anna's spell? He calls us moths, and Anna is the flame. We can't resist her. Even now, when I know what she is and what terrible things she's capable of, I'm still captivated by her. I can't help myself."
"It is much further?" David said.
"Just through those trees."
David pushed past him. He did not want to know any more. Simon was just confirming his worst fears. All he wanted now was to find Heather and take her away from this awful place.
He emerged from the wood into the clearing, Simon a yard or two behind him. Simon pointed to the chapel. "In there."
David ran across the grass. The heavy oak door was locked and refused to open. He hammered on the door with his fist and shouted out Heather's name.
Heather stepped into the pool. Somewhere in the distance she could hear her name being called, and a steady drumming beat, but it seemed so far away, nothing really to do with her at all. Anna stood before her, her arms outstretched. Another step forward and Anna's arms encircled her and her open mouth closed on Heather's.
David heard the scream and sank to his knees. He was too late. He was always going to be too late.
"I'm so sorry, David." Simon's voice sounded behind him. David turned. Simon stood there in the late afternoon sunlight, naked, dark fur growing from his skin, even as David watched. "It was the only way I could keep her, you see. To become one of them." His voice was changing as the metamorphosis reached his head and the face became a pointed snout. "Join us, David."
David backed away from his friend but the oaken door blocked his retreat. Simon was advancing, dropping to all fours, slithering across the grass towards him.
David screamed, and the scream echoed across the clearing, not disturbing the birds and animals of the wood who sat high in the trees and watched in silent terror.
The stewardess on the ten thirty flight to Tokyo walked slowly up the aisle, carrying a coffeepot, stopping occasionally to refresh peoples’ drinks. She had been watching the young woman with the cropped blonde hair for some time and felt desperately sorry for her. Now she reached her seat and asked if she would like more coffee. The young woman said nothing but nodded her head, holding out her cup for the stewardess to pour.
The young man with her took her arm and held it steady while the stewardess poured. "It's full, darling," the young man said to her and smiled a thank you at the stewardess. Heather put the cup to her lips and began to drink.
The stewardess moved on to the seat behind where a beautiful young Japanese woman sat, a sketchpad on her knees. The picture she was working on was of a garden dominated by a large building that looked to the stewardess like a pagoda. The woman worked confidently, making every sweep of the pencil count, creating layer upon layer of beauty.
Her companion sat leafing through a magazine, occasionally staring out through the window at the layer of cloud that rolled away into the distance like a snow covered landscape. He glanced up at the stewardess, a curt shake of his head to decline the offer of coffee.
The Japanese woman laid down her pencil and picked up her cup from the flap attached to the seat in front of her. "Simon, will you get me some more coffee please?"
"How long before we land?" he asked, as he held up the cup.
"Another hour at the most," the stewardess said.
"Almost home," Anna Otani said, almost to herself.
In the seat in front David gripped Heather's hand tightly. Behind the dark glasses she wore tears seeped from her ruined eyes and t
rickled down her cheeks.
MAYNARD SIMS www.maynard-sims.com
Thriller novels, Shelter, Demon Eyes, Nightmare City, Stronghold, Dark Of The Sun, and the three Department 18 books Black Cathedral, Night Souls, and The Eighth Witch, have been published mass market and eBook in the USA. The fourth Department 18 book, A Plague Of Echoes, is for 2014, as is a standalone ghost story, Stillwater. The first four novels have been purchased by Amazon Publishing. They have completed Department 18 book 5, Mother Of Demons.
Falling Apart At The Edges, a crime thriller, Through The Sad Heart, an action thriller, Let Death Begin, a mystery thriller, are 2014 publications, They have completed a Dark Of The Sun sequel, Calling Down The Lightning, and they are working on the next Bahamas novel, Raging Against The Storm.
They have written a screenplay based on the first two Department 18 books – this screenplay, their first, won the 2013 British Horror Film Festival Award for Best New Screenplay. They have also written scripts based on The Eighth Witch, and some of their ghost stories. They have completed two original, commissioned screenplays, one a mainstream drama currently out for funding.
Numerous stories have been published in a variety of anthologies and magazines.
Collections include, Shadows At Midnight, 1979 and 1999 (revised and enlarged), Echoes Of Darkness, 2000, Incantations, 2002, two retrospective collections of their stories, essays and interviews, The Secret Geography Of Nightmare and Selling Dark Miracles, both 2002, Falling Into Heaven in 2004, The Odd Ghosts, 2011, and Flame And Other Enigmatic Tales, and A Haunting Of Ghosts, both 2012.
Novellas, Moths, The Hidden Language Of Demons, The Seminar, Double Act, and His Other Son have been published in 2001, 2002, 2003, 2007 and 2013 respectively.
They worked as editors on the first seven volumes of Darkness Rising, and the two annual Darkness Rising anthologies. As editors/publishers they ran Enigmatic Press in the UK, which produced Enigmatic Tales, and its sister titles. They have written essays. They still do commissioned editing projects.
Why not visit the Maynard Sims Author Page at Amazon?
Email contact can be made at [email protected]
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OTHER BOOKS BY THESE AUTHORS
Maynard Sims / L H Maynard & M P N Sims
Thriller novels
Shelter
Demon Eyes
Nightmare City
Stronghold
Stillwater
Let Death Begin
Through The Sad Heart
Falling Apart At The Edges
The Bahamas series of novels
Dark Of The Sun (to be Touching The Sun)
Calling Down The Lightning
The Department 18 series of novels
Black Cathedral
Night Souls
The Eighth Witch
A Plague Of Echoes
Mother Of Demons
Story Collections
Shadows At Midnight
Echoes Of Darkness
Selling Dark Miracles
The Secret Geography Of Nightmare
Incantations
Falling Into Heaven
Flame And Other Enigmatic Tales
A Haunting Of Ghosts
Novellas
Moths
The Hidden Language Of Demons
The Seminar
Double Act
His Other Son
As Editors
Enigmatic Tales 1-10
Enigmatic Novellas 1-6
Enigmatic Variations 1-5
Enigmatic Electronic
F2 1-2
Darkness Rising 1-7
Darkness Rising 2003
Darkness Rising 2005
“This ‘bumper’ new collection offers the unpublished novella ‘Ashushma’ and eight other spooky supernatural tales, including the authors’ highly regarded and macabre novella ‘Moths’, first published in Enigmatic Novellas and the recipient of an Honourable Mention in The Year’s Best Fantasy & Horror 1998.
Sarob Press published the authors revised and enlarged first collection Shadows At Midnight (now already Out of Print) in 1999, and are pleased to be able to give their readers a singularly mature and intriguing selection of modern supernatural stories, where there is a quiet horror on every page and where a fear of the dark, the lurking shadows and the unknown is fully, and page-turningly, justified.
Echoes Of Darkness is presented as a quality limited edition (only 200 copies) sewn hardcover book, with illustrated dust jacket and interior artwork by Iain Maynard, acid and wood-free paper, head/tailbands and coloured endpapers.”
Sarob Press
“Assured and current.” David Howe, Shivers, UK.
“Echoes Of Darkness is a terrific book which I strongly recommend you purchase.”
Terror Tales newsletter, UK.
“The Echoes of Darkness will linger long after you have closed the covers...”
Derek M Fox, author, UK.
“The stories in the book possess that rare, but essential, gift that every reader searches for in a good ghost or horror story: namely, the ability to leave behind a persistent feeling (an echo, as the title says) of uneasiness.”
Mario Guslandi, All Hallows, Canada.
“Buy it. Read it.” JASON GOULD, INFINITY PLUS.
" Maynard and Sims write much the kind of classic ghost tale and weird fiction they once chose to publish, stories positioned squarely along the Aickman-James axis. These nine well-crafted shockers traverse the globe for various venues of horror, from tropical islands to suburban Britain.” Paul Di Filippo, Asimov’s.
“Succeed in terrifying where some other more graphic authors fail. The pacing of (Moths) is near perfect.”MASTERS OF TERROR
“I hope that at least one of the stories in this collection will be reprinted in some ‘best of’ anthologies. It's time for Maynard and Sims to be known as authors in the so‑called mass market, and not just in the small world of limited editions.”
All Hallows, Canada.
Reviewed By: William P. Simmons, USA.
“There is darkness, and then, there is "darkness." The one is nothing more than a natural deepening of night. Skies cloud over, the sun drowns in it's own light. Shadows ripple and pool like memories.
But then, there is darkness. Long nights of soul, old memories, and far older guilt. Shadows pool, faces stretch from twilight. Much is suggested in this dark, possibly threatened, but rarely revealed. If natural darkness is a confirmation of natural law, fostering in us the illusion that we know (and by knowing, control) all that we witness or believe, then that other darkness, oppressive entity of both internal doubt and external threat, reminds us of what we don't know, or what we fear we might understand on a level surpassing logical rationalization.
This darkness carries the fears and suspicions, the subversive desires and threats of our entire species. It connects us to our animal cousins, reminds us of primal song beneath starlight, and hovers somewhere between the geography of threat and promise. In our banal, often drab existence of neon sign and forced domesticity, it becomes almost too easy to ignore the
dark, so long as sunlight licks the earth and all is well with our own lives. When the bills are paid, relationships stable, and death is something you only read about in the paper, we know all there is to know, believe we see all there is to be seen. But even then, the darkness we
carry within lets slip glimpses and suggestions of events and suspected beings lurking along the cracks of the "good fabric" of rationality. The darkness within reflects a fabulous, formless darkness from without, and we're reminded of how much
we don't know, how very easy it remains to be afraid – not of the dark– but what might be waiting in it.
The ghost story helps us peer into darkness of soul and mind that we possess neither the courage nor natural facilities to face in our daylight world. From the moment birth snaps open our eyes, we're taken in cold hand by Death and led through a nursery of ever worsening pain, dread, and confusion. What do we have to cling to when both the darkness within and the threat (or promise) of things waiting in the physical darkness slip through crevices, throw open the blinds, and demand we recognize them in nightmare or shift of perception? What else, but the supernatural tale, daring maps of twilight thought and experience leading us through border lands.
Whereas realistic fiction operates on the assumption that there is a fixed definition of logic, focusing on characters and happenings within a fixed context, supernatural fiction possesses both the courage and foresight to question the very nature of experience. Using drab nuances of everyday setting and occurrence, the supernaturalist employs realistic characters and events of a decidedly unspectacular nature, layering such with increasing suggestions of the paranormal. When the screw is finally turned, the intrusion of the paranormal appears as believable and "natural" as side walk or store front. Such authors as Algernon Blackwood,
M.R.James, and Arthur Machen all emphasized dictates of logic and illusions of normalcy to make their deviations from the norm appear more credible. Malignant ghost, nature demon, and Fay are no longer separate or distinguishable from normal experience, but emphasized as natural components of both human and natural world. On one hand, the ghost story is an investigation into the incredible, the fantastic or un-ordinary– something distinct and amazing because it is depicted as a dark miracle or deviation of what should be. In the other extreme, ghost fictions strive to depict occult manifestation and characters as just another natural
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