The Quarter Moon (Afterlife saga)

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The Quarter Moon (Afterlife saga) Page 41

by Stephanie Hudson


  “Ok, so I gotta ask…what is it with this dude Gastian and what exactly is his beef with me?”

  “I don’t know.” He stated simply, after devouring the last bites of my cake slice he bought me….this, I had to add, was after finishing two slices bought for himself!

  “Jesus, what is it with you and food…?” I leant forward and whispered,

  “Ok pick one, you are A, going to be spending the next ten years in a remote colony in Antarctica, B, all the food you eat is going out of fashion tomorrow, with all bakers, butchers and chefs deciding to a career change or C, there is going to be a world Famine that I don’t yet know about?” He growled with his mouth full and then I could hear the angry swallow that followed. I couldn’t help but smirk.

  “Your turn, A, I can use your bones as a toothpick, B, I could wash down my cake with a pint of your blood or C, I can bend you over my knee, render your ass a rosy red and use your back as a place to rest my plate…pick one.” It was my turn to growl and it was his turn to smirk.

  “Time to go, buttercup.” He said mockingly, whilst grabbing my upper arm and hauling me up from the seat.

  “But wait, you never told me about Gastian.”

  “Can’t tell you what I don’t know, sweetheart…now come on or we will miss all the excitement.” The word excitement was most definitely a sarcastic overstatement for him as I knew he was dreading it…this was because in the last 45 minutes he had told me so at least 45 times!

  I let him lead me over into the main entrance and only when I saw his reflection in the door’s window did I pull back, gasping at what I saw.

  “What the Hell!?” I shouted making an older couple stare at me disapprovingly.

  “What?” Sigurd hissed, allowing me to pull him back before we walked inside. Having a firm hold of his jacket, I pulled him further out of the way of people passing us to get inside and tried to drag his head down by the hood so that he could hear my panicked whisper.

  “Why do you look like that?!” I asked through gritted teeth.

  “Keira, please try making sense…I don’t know…” I didn’t let him finish as I pointed over the sheer drop from the floors below and over the balcony that spanned the area either side of the main entrance. He started to look down when I shook his hood and said,

  “Not there….there.” I pointed across to the window that was directly ahead of us, at the reflection standing next to me…one that definitely wasn’t Sigurd!

  “Ah.”

  “Yeah, ‘ah’ is right buddy boy, explain…now!” I looked back at him and saw a naughty smile start to form. I scowled at his obvious amusement at my freak out.

  “What? So I don’t want people seeing the real me, what’s the big deal?”

  “What’s the big deal?! Are you serious? We are supposed to be acting as a married couple, like the book’s message said!” I said all this while doing a tennis fan impression watching a game. I could barely tear my eyes from the reflection which others were clearly seeing as him.

  “Yes well, I don’t know if you noticed at all, but someone looking like me does tend to cause unwanted attention.” I rolled my eyes and said,

  “So yeah alright, you’re unbelievably handsome and rugged and have the body of a God, with your tall frame and muscles on top of muscles but that doesn’t mean you should go all big headed about it!” My outburst brought about the first time I had seen one of his kind actually bite his lip, but unlike me, it wasn’t done out of shame. He pulled me closer to him until I had to reach up on tiptoes so as not to end up dangling by my arm a foot from the ground.

  “I meant that people find me scary and intimidating øjesten, not someone that people want to sign up for the cover of a magazine. You wanted to come here and get what you’re looking for. Well, to do that we not only need human interaction, but also their help…somehow I don’t think they would have been as accommodating with someone that fits my description, do you?” Ok, so he had a point, but did he really have to rub it in? I mean my blush had already turned nuclear. He released me until my feet were once again flat on the floor and for long moments we just stared at each other like we were both fighting a greater urge. I shook those thoughts from my mind and slapped a great big warning sticker on that metaphorical case file.

  “Ok, so I am getting that, but really….I mean… come on, you had to marry me to that guy!” I said pointing for the last time to his lying reflection. I referred to the 5ft guy who wore thick rimmed square glasses that reminded me of my granddad, a cream shirt with brown dickey bow and a pale blue V neck knitted vest on top. Brown cords and sandals over white socks finished the nerdy reflection. But this wasn’t the worst part, oh no, I think the crème de la crème was the side parted comb over that was slicked down with only what can be described as car oil!

  “So, I take it you’re not into the geek look?” He asked bringing my stunned gaze back to the real him. Needless to say the sight was much more appealing!

  “Umm, I don’t think that counts as just plain old geeky…I mean my friend Pip is married to a geek and he is hot! Besides, I think it is safe to say that you look like you are trying hard to bring Granddad fashion into…well…fashion.”

  “You know of Adam’s Imp?” His abrupt subject change had me pulling my head back and frowning.

  “Her name is Pip and yeah, we are good mates, why?” I said not being able to rein in the attitude thanks to my protectiveness over my friend.

  “It figures.” He commented wryly as he turned from me about to make his way back to the main entrance. I reached out, grabbed his arm and snapped,

  “And what is that supposed to mean?!”

  “I know Pip and the trouble she gets in, so to assume you and her are friends in no stretch of the imagination considering trouble will inevitably find friendship with trouble. Now come on or we will miss this fucking tour!” He pulled me with him into the building and I made a noise in the back of my throat that was half growl and half moan. It was only when we were waiting with the rest of the tourists that I whispered,

  “If you look harmless then I suggest curbing the language to match, we don’t want people to think I’m married to an aggressive wife beater.” Of course this idea was a joke as one look at Sigurd’s portrayal of my husband and it was outright laughable. But instead of commenting he leaned down, or thanks to his new height not at all and gave me a kiss on the cheek, finishing it with a,

  “Yes dear.”

  We waited for the people ahead of us to move aside before handing over our tickets to the tour guide. She handed us a gold and white sticker each and I slapped Sigurd’s to his chest with more vigour than was needed.

  “There you go, honey boo.” I said loud enough to draw some strange looks. He took mine from the lady and returned the favour by placing it above one breast and making a show of patting it down unnecessarily. He was still doing it, only this time making it more than obvious he was using the opportunity to fondle my breast, drawing some even stranger looks. I batted his hand away and snapped through gritted teeth,

  “It’s fine!” He laughed once and then winked at a guy behind me saying,

  “I had to be sure, sugar plum bum.” I rolled my eyes when I heard the guy cough to hide a laugh and waited until everyone had moved so we were left at the back before elbowing Sigurd in the stomach. I got an umpf sound and smiled when everyone turned round to face us.

  “That’s it love, cough it up.” I said making a show of patting his back. After some more funny looks everyone turned back to the front to hear what the guide was saying. She introduced herself as Rachael and before starting the tour asked us all to refrain from using our mobile phones. Then, after explaining the details of our tour, we followed her outside to our first point of interest.

  After all of the group had gathered round I couldn’t help but notice people kept their distance from us. I put this down to some deeper human instinct of survival considering Sigurd’s true nature. It was like no matter how convincing his ge
eky disguise was, the truth was in the shadows lurking in wait. You could see it in his stance, as though ready to pounce and strike down any threat that might arise. People were smart to be wary and as a result we were given a wide berth in the circle.

  The guide had taken us outside near the fountains and started the tour with the building’s history. I soon found myself engrossed in hearing how Somerset house started life as a Tudor palace built by Edward Seymour, Duke of Somerset and virtual ruler at the time. This was because as Lord Protector of England, in the minority of his nephew, Edward VI, who was the son of the lady obsessed Henry VIII who seemed to collect wives the way others do tea sets! I don’t think by the growly noise that came from Sigurd that he was a big fan either! Of course, it was a no brainer the reason why everyone took a step back and gave us an even greater space.

  I hooked Sigurd’s arm with my own and pulled him closer to the back of the group.

  “Ok, down boy and less of scaring the human population if you can help it because see that meathead there…” I nodded to the guy who looked like he bench pressed his girlfriend every morning before breakfast.

  “Even that guy is wary of you right now and given the way you look, that is doing nothing for his street cred.”

  “And why should I give a shit?” Sigurd rumbled and I looked into the opposite window to check his disguise was still in place. I had to squash down my surprise when I saw his fingers rise to push up a pair of thick rimmed glasses that weren’t actually there. I shook my head trying to dislodge the weirdness this day kept throwing at me and tried a different tactic.

  “Because we are trying to fit in, hubby dearest and I would like to end this day with a scabby, old heart of some asshole in my hand not you getting your geeky ass thrown out of here for being an asshole… capiche?” I whispered making him burst out laughing.

  “Seriously…did you just say Capiche?”

  “What? I can say Capiche.” I frowned up at him when I saw his humour grow at my expense. Then his lips rose further up one side and he placated me with a head pat, saying,

  “Alright Don, how about I whack the meathead with my heavy before my shakedown with our tour guide for ten large whilst you go on the lam?” I rolled my eyes at his chuckle as we took our place back with the group.

  “Funny, but you forgot swimming with the fishes in that sentence.”

  “Ok, now we really need to work on your mobster ‘cause they don’t actually say that outside of a movie set and whilst we’re at it, do me a favour and never say Capiche again.” I scoffed at that and said a lame,

  “Whatever.”

  “Too damn cute.” I whipped my head up at his muttered comment but he ignored me and when I tried to speak he just shushed me, nodding back to what the tour guide was saying. I huffed with my arms folded.

  The tour continued around the courtyard until we had heard about what part of history influenced the architecture of the buildings and their enrichments, which clearly had a strong ancient Greek feel. You could tell that Sigurd found this completely boring and to a point where I wouldn’t have been surprised if I would soon have to drag him along like an unruly child. I tried to see it from his point of view and wondered if I too had lived through these times would I have also found it tiresome? Every now and again I would catch his reflection in the many windows, rolling his eyes at something the guide said and wondered if what we knew of history was as accurate as we presumed? Well, if Sigurd’s reactions were anything to go by then I was thinking not.

  It was only at the point in the tour that got to the Navy side that we started to really take notice. According to Jared’s story, Paul Whitehead’s heart had been stolen from an Australian Sailor and this place held it within its walls, somewhere that one possessed Admiral Sir James Stirling had hidden it. I could almost feel the cells inside my body buzzing with the excitement of the adventure that had been thrust upon me. The thrill of the chase sent my mind into overdrive and I could almost taste the lips of my lost lover coming closer to lips eagerly waiting.

  Soon…I just knew it.

  Standing outside the Navy Office, which was situated next to the main entrance with a name that still made me snigger when reading it, I listened with interest as our guide spoke about the Navy’s involvement with Somerset house. Then I heard a big yawn next to me and I wasn’t the only one that shot daggers at Sigurd for his obvious show of boredom.

  “What, she wore me out last night, alright.” My mouth dropped as I processed what he just said. I heard a few laugh (mainly the men in the group) and some gasp clearly outraged (mainly the women). Meanwhile, the guide got everyone to move on from both the Navy and my shame. I turned and smacked Sigurd on the arm making him chuckle.

  “Well, technically you did.” He said behind me as I stormed ahead fuming. I gritted my teeth as I heard his full blown laughter following me.

  “I don’t remember being in that ring last night!” I gritted out as I tried to catch up with the group which I could see disappearing down the hallway.

  “What can I say… taking care of you wears me out, lille øjesten.”

  “Then you’re obviously getting old…maybe it is time to think about retiring to Florida after all.” I had to smile when I heard the trademark growl replace sniggering laughter.

  “Over my cold dead host!” He said in my ear before stamping large boots ahead of me, grabbing my hand at the last second to drag me along. I couldn’t hold in the satisfaction that I had won another round.

  “If you could all just look up the staircase and then back down again, you will notice the distinct difference between the floors above to the floors below. This was one of the ways that level of importance was clearly stated as the higher class worked on the top levels whilst the lower class obviously worked down below. You can see with the elaborate mouldings decorating the top floors and beautiful hand railings that compared to the plain lower levels, this distinction stands out clearly.” We walked through just as the guide was starting her talk on this section but nothing in what she said was going to be of any help to what we were looking for. So far it just showed us an endless amount of doors and floors that we might have to look through. It was almost like showing us an aerial view of the garden maze and then dumping us dead centre to find our own way out.

  The rest of the tour walked us through the outside balcony that looked over a main road and then the river that once had come right up to the building itself. From what I took in from the guide, the water went right underneath where we stood so that boats could pull into a big archway to let passengers disembark. It was cool to see how it would have been back then, but I had to admit that when she took us back inside and that wasn’t the end of the tour, I was relieved.

  We followed once again as she started to take us across to the other side of the building and down a spiral staircase that got more unrefined the further down we went. This was to the point that the steps became mottled with dimples in the stone resembling a grey leopard print.

  “What is that?” I whispered as Sigurd kept firm hold of me as we descended the steep staircase.

  “That is thanks to the metal in the boots of the workers.” I looked down past where my own feet were heading and stared at the evidence of that extreme level of hard work that had ingrained itself into the very building itself. Once we reached the bottom floor it made me a bit dizzy looking up in the centre space all the way to the top. I couldn’t help but back into Sigurd and felt better when his hands held onto my hips to keep me steady.

  Like every place we stopped the lady started with stories of the past but by this time I had started to get frustrated that we would never get this done. So once again I listened to words that didn’t help us in getting any closer to the damned heart!

  “Patience øjesten, I know we are getting closer…not long now, my sweetheart.” He brushed my short hair from my neck as I relaxed back into him. God, I hoped he was right! I didn’t know how much more excitement I could let build, knowing that
if this tour didn’t produce the right clues then that hefty weight of hope would come crashing down.

  Finally we were on the move again and this time it took us to a more promising setting. After going around the corner and into a room that opened up, branching off to four different ways, I was glad to see it took us outside. Now, here was the real grit of Somerset house. Leaving behind the finery of the upper class we walked straight into the belly of the beast. Stepping through a time to where the real backbone of England’s workers would find a hard life of dirt and sweat.

  This was where all the coal sheds were housed, along a cobbled narrow street that hadn’t really changed in over 200 years. I looked up and you could see all the levels to where we had first been stood outside the main entrance. You could even still hear the laughter of the children running through the fountains in that grand courtyard. A zigzag of staircases ran this way and that until it reached that level and I could easily see a way to break in if need be.

  Ok, so now my thoughts were scaring me as I knew once you started analyzing how easy a place was to break in, that meant only one thing…I had spent way too much time around bad ass Demons! What was next on my list, a trip to get myself some camouflage gear, black face paint and some night vision goggles?!

  “Wait!” I said a bit too loud making the guide stop and give me one of those ‘are you serious’ looks. I bit my lip and said a quiet,

  “Sorry, please…um…carry on.”

  We waited for the others to go ahead of us and I vaguely listened to our guide explain about the terrible work conditions and point out the shoots the coal came down inside the coal sheds that lined the walk way.

  “Keira, what is it?” Sigurd asked once we were far enough away from everyone else.

  “The book, I need to see the book again, I think I remember something in the Oracle’s riddle.” I flipped back the large flap on my bag and pulled out the book.

  “Aha! See there, the number 26, we’re on the right track…woohoo!” I said once finding the right bit in verse three and pointing to the same number on the black door in front of us.

 

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