Mist & Whispers

by C. M. Lucas

  Anya took out her phone and dialled Michael’s number.

  ‘What?’ Michael answered shortly.

  ‘There’s no need to be like that, Michael,’ she snapped back, her body tensing at his tone. ‘There’s obviously an important reason I’m ringing you right now, why do you always have to – ’

  ‘Woah, calm down a second,’ he cut in, dropping the hostility. ‘What’s happened? Is it Iain? Has he...’

  She took a breath and closed her eyes. ‘About an hour ago.’

  ‘Anya, I’m so sorry. I know how much you looked up to him.’ This was the first time in weeks that he’d spoken to her sincerely. It was comforting to know that, despite it all, he was still there.

  She dried her eyes for the hundredth time and cleared her throat. ‘I need to speak to Stephanie, have you got her number?’

  ‘I don’t actually, but I know where she lives, I dropped her home once – I could take you if you like?’

  She wasn’t sure if that was a good idea right now. Her feelings were all over the place and actually seeing Michael felt a bit risky. ‘I think it’s best if I go alone. Can you text me her address?’

  ‘BUT HOW DO we know he even wrote any more?’ Stephanie said later, scratching at her pink leopard-print nail polish. They had been talking over a cup of tea, Anya revealing her thoughts on finding more of the Weaver’s books.

  ‘Well, we don’t, but imagine if he had and we were the ones who found them, we’d have the exclusive rights then, and millions of customers lining up to order them! Come on, it’s not like we have anything to do. Scott’s is closed and we haven’t got jobs to go back to. Short of a lottery win, this is our only chance to save the bookshop!’

  ‘It’s sweet you mean so well, but we have to be realistic. Even if we did find more Weaver books, what’s to say Wade wouldn’t sell the bookshop anyway? He’s a forty-six year old surfer who spends more time out of the country than in it. He’s never married or had children; he’s not going to want a bookshop to tie him down.’

  ‘We could look after it for him. Please, we have to at least try.’ She could hear her own desperation but couldn’t stop herself.

  Stephanie stopped playing with her nails and looked at Anya, her eyes narrowing. ‘What is it about Scott’s that makes you want to save it so much? Seriously, there are, like, hundreds of bookshops in England and yet you want to work in this one for the rest of your life? There has to be a reason why a sixteen – ’

  ‘I’m nearly seventeen.’

  ‘ – Okay – why a nearly seventeen year old wants to spend every day of her life in the same ancient little bookshop?’

  It was true, there was a reason, but Anya had only ever shared it with Michael and Iain. This truth was the only reason Iain had given her the job in the first place. She didn’t like to share why; people already looked at her strangely, like a baby bird with a broken wing or an unwanted pest, depending on what version of her truth they had heard.

  ‘Everyone around here knows I was abandoned as a baby, right?’ Stephanie nodded. That much was old news. ‘The newspapers launched a campaign to find my parents, but nobody ever came forward.’

  ‘I know, but what has that got to do with Scott’s?’

  ‘Well, when I was found, there was a book inside my moses basket – Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. Tucked inside the cover was a note from my mother. It didn’t say a lot, only “To Anya, love Mummy.” The note was written on the back of a receipt. She bought the book at Scott’s the day the home found me.’

  ‘O. M. G! Anya, I had no idea!’

  ‘Scott’s is the only place where I know my mother has been. It’s my only clue as to who she is; who I am.’

  Stephanie’s expression was sympathetic.

  ‘Please don’t look at me like that.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Stephanie said, looking down at her finger nails again. ‘So, where do we look for these books that only might exist?’ A touch of hope warmed her tone.

  ‘Well,’ Anya said, getting a little excited, ‘that house they were found in is called Erimus Hall. It’s near Middlesbrough – I Googled it. It’s only two hour’s drive from here. We could be there and back before the night is out.’

  Stephanie’s thumb slipped across her nail and dug into her cuticle. She gave a frustrated little hiss of pain then stuck her now-bleeding thumb in her mouth. ‘Ony fin dough,’ she said, removing her thumb so as to be heard more clearly. ‘Neither one of us can drive, and, like, I can’t see you asking Michael to drive us, what with you two not talking properly.’

  Anya’s enthusiasm deflated. She knew it would be awkward asking Michael for help, but if it was their only chance, she was prepared to take it. She was about to agree to let Michael take them when Stephanie sat bolt upright, a little light suddenly appearing in her eyes.

  ‘Tim! Tim might take us! It’s his last day at uni today; I’m sure I can convince him to take us if I offer to make him breakfast in bed tomorrow.’

  Anya had only met Tim a few times before at the bookshop. He was Stephanie’s boyfriend, and they were the total opposites of each other. Stephanie had even said once ‘he’s the yin to my yang’. Where she was only 5” 2’, Tim was a towering 6” 3’. She had perfectly straight hair whereas Tim’s was a mass of dark corkscrews falling this way and that, and from what Anya could tell, he was an introvert, but Stephanie was larger than life.

  Stephanie called him on his way home from the university where he studied geography. He wasn’t too happy about the spontaneity of it all, but the offer of bacon and eggs in bed had the deal clinched. They planned to leave as soon as he arrived home.

  WITH THE DIRECTIONS punched into the sat-nav and a stop off for drive-through burgers, Anya, Stephanie and Tim began their journey to Erimus Hall.

  ‘Oh Steph, I got you a little present today,’ Tim said in his deep but mild voice. ‘It’s in the glove box.’

  Stephanie opened the glove box and pulled out a black carrier bag with Chronicles printed across it in regal capitals. ‘O.M.G, Timmy! You’ve been funding the enemy!’ she said, pouting moodily.

  ‘I thought you’d want to read it, and unfortunately it’s the only shop you can buy the Weaver’s books from. I didn’t mean anything by it, I swear.’

  Anya thought it sweet that he sounded so worried about upsetting his girlfriend. ‘Which one is it?’ she asked Stephanie.

  ‘The Gift of Time,’ Stephanie replied. ‘Just as well really, I bought The Vampire’s Kiss earlier...’ She cringed in wait of the others’ reaction.

  ‘Oh! You hypocrite! You’re just as guilty of funding the enemy as I am then!’ Tim mocked, playfully poking her in the ribs with one hand still firmly on the wheel. Stephanie made that girly giggling sound most pink-loving girls make, and tried to grab his hand. It was kind of cute, even though Anya would never make such a sound herself. It struck her just how diverse a single species could be.

  ‘Well, like you said,’ Stephanie went on once Tim’s hands were back at ten and two. ‘It makes total sense to read them. Plus, I hate being out of the loop!’

  ‘I wouldn’t worry,’ Anya said. ‘I’m guilty too. I bought Phoenix Tears. It’s still in my bag from yesterday. I haven’t read it though.’

  They chatted as they drove, the woman behind the sat-nav filling the gaps between the small talk. Her directions were questionable at times. In the middle of a bridge along a busy A-road, her robotic voice told them to “turn right and board the ferry.” Had they have taken the sat-nav’s advice, they’d have plummeted to their untimely deaths and had to have been scraped off the road below.

  AFTER TWO HOURS of A-roads, they found themselves driving along a country lane, both sides of which were lined with hundreds of little coppicing trees.

  ‘It should be on the left here somewhere,’ Tim said and they all peered out the window.

  ‘Just there,’ Stephanie called out, pointing at a small clearing ahead.

  They drove a good mile down a winding roa
d until they were met by a large bank. Tim decided it was far too steep for his clapped-out Fiat Tipo – it was running on borrowed time as it was – so they parked up beneath an old oak tree and got out.

  The sky was a sea of amethyst and white, the clouds rolling in like foamy waves sweeping the shore. The sun set in the distance. A cool breeze danced through their hair as they made their way to the top of the bank. The mud was dry and crumbling underfoot, and as they passed a plaque on the stone wall that read ERIMUS HALL, Anya felt a shiver course down her spine. She got the feeling someone was watching her. There was no one else around, but the closer they came to the derelict building, the harder it was to shake the sensation.

  Their pace slowed when they neared the entrance to the manor. There was evidence James had been there; on the ground beside the door lay a bundle of brittle ivy that had been ripped down from around the big double doorway. Bits of it still clung to the walls here and there.

  Stephanie looked at Anya. ‘After you,’ she said.

  Anya took a deep breath and wondered if this was such a good idea after all. Deserted houses as creepy as this one were usually the centre of the kind of horror stories she’d grown up hearing at the home before lights out.

  ‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ Stephanie asked, and gave Anya a nudge.

  Anya took her phone from her pocket and lit up the screen. Holding it out in front of her like a torch, she stepped through a thin string of cobwebs and through the aged oak doors.

  The lobby, even in its decrepit state, was a sight to behold. The ceiling peaked where a wooden chandelier hung, draped with dusty cobwebs and real candles, burnt right down until the wax had dripped from them, like waterfalls frozen in time.

  A balcony on the first floor ran along three sides of the square room. Among the railings, dozens of bird nests housed pigeons while others were deserted, abandoned like the manor itself.

  In the four corners of the room stood stone statues, each on a pillar and depicting a different mythical creature. Beside them on the left was a dragon. On the right, a griffin stood proud, its eagle stare fixed directly on Anya, making her feel every bit the intruder she was. Ahead on the left reared a unicorn and ahead on the right perched a phoenix, wings spread like wildfire. From the base of each pillar a groove ran in the stone floor, right into the centre, where a large round black limestone was set. The limestone was engraved with a mesmerizing labyrinthine pattern, at the centre of which was a tiny black hole.

  The walls were stained with damp spots and the windows were thick with dirt, allowing hardly any light into the room. Even under the glow of Anya’s phone, everything was black with dust. Furnishings were sparse and had been subjected to the same treatment as the ivy by the front door.

  They set about searching the room. Beside a grandfather clock stuck on a quarter to ten, Anya found an empty old trunk with a muddy hand print on its side.

  ‘Look at this,’ Anya said, holding her hand against the print. ‘Do you think this could have been the Weaver’s hand?’

  Stephanie and Tim studied it with the same fascination as Anya. The hairs on their arms tingled as the wonder of Weaver’s possible presence overcame them all.

  ‘Can you believe he was once in this very room, holding on to books that would impact the world in a way he’d never even know?’ All at once, Anya felt inspired. They all stood quietly, taking the moment in.

  A noise came from outside, like the rustle of dried leaves followed by a scuffing sound against the dusty ground. The tingle of wonder quickly turned to goose bumps as they realised they weren’t alone.

  Without thinking, Anya grabbed Tim and Stephanie and pulled them into an unlit doorway to the side of the room, stuffing her phone into her pocket and extinguishing all trace of light. They held their breaths, hearing only the eerie creak of the oak doors as they opened.

  Anya peered round the doorway and saw the silhouette of a tall man behind the bright light of a torch. The silhouette moved around the room slowly in contrast to the torch’s rays, which bolted between the walls and the floor like prison flood lights in search of escapees. Then the light dimmed and the man hit the torch against his leg.

  ‘Stupid, poxy pound-shop batteries,’ sighed a voice she knew all too well.

  ‘Michael?’ She lit her phone again and came out from the door way. ‘What are you doing here? How did you even know where we were?’

  ‘Well, I just wanted to make sure you were ok,’ he said.

  ‘Did you follow us from Stephanie’s place?’

  He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

  ‘Argh! I can’t believe you! You had no right! I’m not your girlfriend anymore, Michael! You can’t just follow me round to find out what I’m doing! It’s none of your business! Just go home, will you!’

  Michael looked down to the ground like an abashed puppy. She could see his eyes glisten, though he made an effort to hide it. Stephanie and Tim looked at each other, and then to Anya, silently appealing to her better nature with a raise of the eyebrows and a tilt of their heads.

  She sighed and rolled her eyes. ‘Fine, you can stay. I suppose it’s better to have an extra pair of hands, anyway.’

  ‘Extra pair of hands for what exactly?’ Michael asked.

  ‘Isn’t it obvious?’ she frowned, looking around the room.

  ‘I followed you. I didn’t bug their place and listen in on your plans!’

  Anya pursed her lips at him, but before anything else could be said, Stephanie stepped in between them. ‘You two fighting isn’t going to save Scott’s now, is it?’

  Michael dropped Anya’s challenging stare and looked to Stephanie, confused. ‘Save Scott’s from what?’ After she explained, he said, ‘Right, well, that’s a very good idea. I’d be happy to help,’ and then glanced, completely smug, at Anya.

  Anya carried on searching the room, glowering at Michael for a good few minutes or so. After a while she came to the dragon statue in the corner of the room. ‘I bet James is kicking himself that he didn’t take these statues – think of what they’d go for online.’

  ‘They are magnificent, aren’t they?’ Tim said as he studied the unicorn.

  ‘It’s funny, this one is crying,’ Stephanie said, standing in front of the phoenix statue. ‘And one of Weaver’s books is called Phoenix Tears, and it was found right here in this room, with this crying phoenix!’

  ‘That isn’t just funny, that’s a very intriguing coincidence. I wonder...’ and Michael made his way over to the statue.

  His sudden interest captured Anya and Tim’s attention and they joined both him and Stephanie by the phoenix. Michael felt around the statue then took Anya’s phone to shine more light on to its face. He examined the tear closely then, with an unsure finger, he pressed it.

  To Anya’s surprise, the tear sank back into the statue and one of the phoenix’s claws sprung open. A small metal ball clanged onto the ground, straight into the groove that ran from the base of the statue, and rolled into the labyrinth on the black limestone. Its momentum carried it around the pattern until it reached the hole in the centre. The four companions watched, breaths bated as the ball fell into the black hole, and were startled by a clunking mechanical sound that rang out around the room. In a breath, the chandelier that had been gathering dust was slowly lowering from the ceiling, and in its place a secret entrance appeared.

  THE CHANDELIER CAME to a stop just before the lowest candle touched the ground. A portion of the ceiling had come down with it, on which, old footprints could be seen in the layers of dust.

  ‘What do you think is up there?’ Tim asked.

  ‘I don’t know, but it looks like you’re supposed to get on this to get to it,’ Anya observed, climbing on to the platform attached to the chandelier.

  ‘O.M.G, Anya! What are you doing?’ Stephanie blurted, aghast.

  ‘I’m going up there.’ She knew this couldn’t just be coincidence, the tear on the phoenix leading to a secret room. There had to be so
mething up there worth hiding, something linked to the Weaver.

  They heard another click and the chandelier began to move again, and this time it started to rise.

  ‘Quick, get on!’ Anya urged the others.

  Michael jumped on first and Tim managed to climb up as it reached Stephanie’s shoulders.

  ‘Take our hands,’ Tim instructed Stephanie, while he and Anya reached out for her.

  Stephanie hesitated, but then grabbed a hold of their hands. The chandelier had lifted her off her feet and now there was no going back. Tim and Anya pulled with all their strength and Stephanie managed to get one foot on the platform, but as she pulled up her other foot, she slipped.

  Stephanie’s screams echoed around the room sending the nesting pigeons into frantic flight, but as she fell she managed to catch a hold of the chandelier below. They were a good fifteen feet in the air and still rising.

  ‘Hold on to me!’ Anya ordered Michael and Tim as she lowered herself down to her knees.

  They both took hold of her and she reached over the side.

  ‘Take my hand!’ she shouted at her terrified boss.

  ‘I’m going to fall,’ Stephanie squealed back.

  ‘No you’re not, trust me!’ Anya looked her straight in the eye.

  The ceiling was getting closer and closer. Stephanie took a deep breath and grabbed Anya’s hand. Anya gripped her as tight as she could and with the help of the boys, she pulled her up onto the platform, narrowly missing her being severed in half between the edge of the platform and the ceiling. The platform locked back into position and they fell to the floor inside the secret attic room, trying to catch their breaths.

  Strangely, the attic room was lit. A lantern hung from a beam just across from where the Four had fallen. It was a small space, laid out as if someone used to sleep there. There were cushions and blankets stuffed at one end, and had they not been covered in dust and mice droppings, they would have looked quite welcoming.

  Tim was holding onto Stephanie, stroking her hair and trying to calm her down. He looked as terrified as she had only moments ago. Anya couldn’t take her eyes off them. She felt awful; Stephanie could have been terribly hurt and it would have been all her fault.