The Chrysalid Conspiracy

by A. J. Reynolds

  Her voice was gentle but compelling, almost musical, with a warm smile, which quickly seduced Amelia’s intellect. Rayn, however, was on full alert as usual, looking for the hook that would be used to draw them in. What distracted her was the slim cigar that Dr Barrenborn was smoking. When she was offered one she quickly reassessed her priorities and her addiction took over as she accepted.

  “You know we are under age, don’t you?” Amelia said, appalled as Rayn lit up. Miss Collins poured two more glasses of wine while the doctor explained her reasoning.

  “Only chronologically. Physically, you are both way ahead of the pack. Would you like some wine?”

  Both girls declined, sharing a growing unease.

  “No thank you, Dr Barrenborn,” they said, almost in unison.

  “Oh, please, call me Maddy. Dr Barrenborn is such a mouthful. And this is Alyson, my housekeeper.” Miss Collins nodded in agreement.

  “I owe that Miss Dempsey a crack on the shins for tripping me when I tried to get to Professor Melkins. Please tell me about your school desertion incident,” said Miss Collins. Amelia grinned and looked at Rayn, who took this as an invitation to enjoy herself. Rayn’s outrageous exaggerations didn’t fool anybody but it did make them laugh, even Amelia, but she sensed that Maddy could ‘see’ the truth behind it all.

  Amelia laughed with them and then asked, “What did you want to talk to us about, Doctor… sorry, Maddy?” She was eager to find out what this was really about.

  “We wanted to ask you a couple of questions, if that would be all right,” interjected Alyson.

  “A couple of what?” Rayn laughed. “What about the million and a half we want to ask you?”

  “Steady Rayn,” warned Amelia. “Let’s see where this goes.”

  “Okay then,” she replied. Then, in a flash of inspiration, she added, “How about question for question? Then we get something back.”

  “We’re not your enemy, Rayn,” said Alyson, in her firm teacher’s voice.

  “It’s all right, Alyson,” said Maddy. “Rayn, use your ‘Astral Flow’ techniques and then you’ll know we are not lying.”

  Rayn was physically jolted by this revelation. For a moment she lost all confidence and some of the cockiness went out of her voice. “You’ve read that book?” Rayn couldn’t believe it.

  “Actually, I wrote it,” declared the doctor, “but that’s not relevant at the moment. Can we just ask the questions and see where it gets us?”

  “In answer to your first question,” Amelia smiled, knowing what their reaction would be. “Professor Melkins’ book is a work of almost genius.”

  “How on earth…?” stared Alyson.

  Maddy broke in. “How she knows isn’t important, Alyson,” she said.

  Alyson was determined to defend herself. “But I read that book over and over from cover to cover. It’s nonsense,” she exclaimed.

  “Only because you didn’t have the cover, its two books cleverly combined to look nonsense. I found the key inside that old leather cover. Once you get that, one story gets pretty interesting.”

  Alyson looked devastated. “The hours I spent trying…” she said, but was suddenly over-ruled.

  “Hey, how come you have a copy? I thought Amelia’s was the only one?” interjected Rayn

  “I photocopied it when I worked for him. Then destroyed it,” Alyson replied.

  “You don’t know how relieved I am to hear that you made some progress, Amelia. Could I ask you your conclusions?” enquired Maddy, in her calm, steady manner, even though Amelia’s extra sense told her the doctor was thrilled and elated by the news.

  “Sorry Maddy. I’m afraid I can’t do that.” She spoke in the same calm voice, as if this was pleasant idle chatter.

  “Then can I ask you to destroy it, please? It’s very important.”

  “Sorry again. I can’t do that either,” Amelia smiled.

  “Then do you mind if I ask you why you won’t help us?”

  “That’s three questions to none,” chipped in Rayn, purely as a point of observation.

  “Of course,” said Amelia, maintaining her polite manner. “Look at it from our perspective. We don’t know you, or who or what you are. You seem to be at the top end of this intriguing food chain, but Rayn and I have been deliberately kept in the dark as to what’s going on and who’s doing what to whom.”

  “That’s just one of the dilemmas we face,” added Rayn. “Everything we know or think we know we’ve had to figure out for ourselves. So why should we trust anybody now?”

  “And we don’t know how good you are at whatever it is you are doing,” continued Amelia, “because someone has made some pretty simple mistakes. We don’t even know how much, if any, has been contrived to make us think it’s our own doing.”

  “So you can see what sort of a quandary that puts us in over who to trust,” Rayn finished.

  Alyson broke in, almost hostile by contrast. “I can’t imagine Dr Barrenborn making any mistakes,” she argued.

  “Really?” Rayn fired off. By her body language Amelia knew that the gloves were off, and it was going to be a rough ride. “Then how come you think that there are only three sides to whatever this is? You aren’t even aware that there’s probably a fourth and much more deadly element with its own agenda.” Rayn spoke directly to Alyson. She had been offended by her use of Maddy’s formal title as a means of establishing her authority and considered it an insult to her intelligence. She was ready to fight.

  “More to the point,” Amelia responded quickly to head off Rayn’s advancing tirade. “Until someone we trust says it’s okay, we just can’t help you. I’m sorry.”

  “I must apologise,” Maddy retreated. “I deserved that, and you are right to be suspicious. We’ve handled this badly. I’m sorry.”

  “And I’m sorry too. We have to go now. We have to help clear up and I must get ready to visit my mother in hospital this evening. So if you will excuse us.”

  “Lucy’s at the Hall, Amelia,” said Maddy suddenly. “I meant to tell you. We have better facilities and it’s a lot safer. I’ll send a car for you.”

  “You what!?” Amelia rounded on the doctor. All the anger and frustration she’d been struggling to control since her mother’s collapse finally burst through. She was furious. “Who the hell do you think you are? Who’s with her now?” she almost screamed.

  “She’s perfectly all right, Amelia,” Alyson tried to reassure her. “George is there, with Gabrielle Orugo and Lorraine. Why?”

  Amelia stared at Rayn, her face contorted by fear and pain. “Rayn,” she almost choked on her own words. “Cellos, Mum, the dream. Oh God!” she cried. Turning back to the two women, who were completely astounded at what seemed to be irrational behaviour on the part of Amelia.

  “You fools. Lorraine’s here,” Amelia shouted.

  “Amelia Jaxson! How dare you say…” said Alyson.

  Amelia cut her off in mid-sentence. “Where’s Ryxyl?” she snapped at her.

  “I’m not going to allow you to speak to me like that…” but again she was silenced.

  “SHUT UP AND ANSWER THE DAMNED QUESTION.” It was Rayn this time.

  Dr Barrenborn was quick to respond, becoming aware that this was not rebellious anger or arrogance. There was something very wrong.

  “Ryxyl? She offered to take over to allow Lorraine the day off,” she explained. “And to give Alyson and I time to come and see you. Why, Amelia? What is it?”

  Amelia was already moving. She crashed through the table scattering food, drinks and Rayn in all directions.

  “Go, Amelia. I’ll catch you up,” Rayn shouted at the retreating figure, as she tried to untangle herself from her chair and wipe the coleslaw from her face.

  Maddy had at last lost her calm confident manner and shouted after Amelia. “What’s wrong? Where are you going?”

  Rayn looked up at her from the ground, her reasoning only a split second behind her friends.

  “The fourth ele
ment,” she answered her. “It’s Ryxyl.”

  “Ryxyl? It can’t be. You must be mistaken. It’s ridiculous. She’s been with me for years. I’d trust her with my life.”

  “And what about Lucy’s life? Damn you, she’s already tried to kill her once,” she said as she rolled over and was up and running, following Amelia into the woods.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Totally focused on her mother, Amelia ran through the thick undergrowth at full speed. Her supple body twisting and turning to avoid the low branches, she leapt over or through the shrubs and brambles. The woods, ignoring her plight, seemed to snag and lash at her clothing in a bid to slow her down. It was like her dreams, only this time she was supremely confident with her athletic abilities.

  Suddenly she reached the fence that she and Rayn had climbed over. Not even hesitating, she leapt. With one foot on the top rung, her momentum took her out into the paddock.

  Two things occurred to her simultaneously during that short flight. One was that she had no way of reaching the Hall quickly as they had no cars with them. The other was how odd it was that Horace was standing exactly where he was at that precise moment. She landed astride on his shoulders, the extremely painful jolt knocking the breath out of her.

  There was no time to look for answers. Horace took off at a gallop. To save herself from rolling back, she grabbed handfuls of his mane and hung on tight. Never having been on a horse before, she had no experience of counter balance or anticipating the movements.

  There’s obviously a gap in my education. She thought. Surely someone should have anticipated the need for riding.

  As Horace left the ground for a magnificent clearance of the gate, Amelia was thrown around like a rag doll. Her only contact with him was with her hands in his long flowing mane and when he finally touched down she was, once again, slammed onto his broad back. Her fingers felt as if they were being torn off but, strangely, all she could think of was “Why am I wearing cowboy boots?”

  Suddenly they were racing through the campsite and she only managed a glimpse of floundering bodies scattering in all directions. All five children were whooping and cheering like crazy.

  As Horace headed into the woods towards the iron bridge she became aware that the pin holding her over-tight jeans together had relinquished its responsibilities and retired from active service. The fact that her backside was now hanging out she considered a low priority, but at least it afforded her greater freedom of movement.

  The noises from the campsite receded as she survived the dash through the woods, which were now becoming less dense, and out on to the iron bridge, which protested loudly as they thundered across it. Horace swung left into the Tetherington Hall driveway with Amelia wondering how he knew where to go, and they settled in for the long haul up the hill. On firm level ground the ride became easier and she managed to pull herself up onto Horace’s neck and grip with her knees. How this great lumbering animal, which stood at eighteen hands, could move with such grace and speed amazed her.

  The woods and overhanging trees gave way to well-kept lawns and random flowerbeds. Horace veered off the drive and galloped across to a huge nineteenth century, grandiose mansion, his giant hooves gouging out great lumps of broken turf divits in his wake,

  Amelia didn’t have the time or the inclination to take in the wonderful architecture or the landscaped gardens. The agony of running up the wide stone steps while pulling her jeans up and tightening her belt after the beating Horace had given her took all her attention.

  Speeding across a wide balcony and through a wide-open pair of glass-panelled doors she found herself in what she could only describe as a hotel reception area. It was a large room the size of a sports hall. The ceiling and walls were plainly decorated, with no arches or statues, and none of the intricate decoration favoured by the Victorians. A series of long chains supported neon lights.

  Armchairs and low coffee tables were scattered around. The furniture was ancient but not antique, just well used and there was plenty of it.

  Down the centre there was a long table, the type used in boardrooms. Comparatively new, it was of highly polished mahogany and flanked by modern padded swivel chairs. The only thing that reminded her that she was in a historical building was the over-ornate staircase that rose up at the far end and split left and right up to the next floor. But it was made to look incongruous by the rest of the room, which deflected attention away from its incredible beauty.

  Amelia took all this in without breaking her stride. She could ‘feel’ her mother’s distress coming from the next floor. Apart from the initial relief that she was still alive Amelia determined to get to her as quickly as possible. “I’m coming mother.” She called to let her know she was near.

  Taking the shortest route, she leapt on to the long table. The intention was to avoid the armchairs and furniture which would have slowed her, and to run straight down the middle of the room. Unfortunately, she had forgotten she wasn’t wearing trainers and her Cuban heels were no match for the Brazilian mahogany. With no grip, she slid and skidded and ended up in a series of short hops and skips as if she were on ice, leaving great gouges and scratch marks in her wake. When she leapt from the table on to the first landing of the stairs she failed to notice the body lying on the floor beneath her.

  She could sense her mother’s distress turning to fear and ignoring the crippling pain from her left ankle she made an effort to get to her. Struggling on all fours she dragged herself upwards toward the terrified knot of emotion above her.

  Amelia looked up and froze. At the top of the stairs stood her nightmare, here in broad daylight and wide-awake.

  The figure was dressed in some kind of flowing, white robes. It was all there – the hood, the golden mask, and the sword. Everything that had been Amelia faded into insignificance; who and what she was, her past, her present and her future became meaningless as the bitter wind of cold logic took over her mind. Her pain vanished and, aware that she had no weapon, she stood and faced her adversary.

  “You don’t need the mask, Ryxyl. I know who you are, and I know what you want,” she said without a shred of fear.

  “How timely, Amelia. So nice of you to turn up. Now I can take you and your mother together.” Ryxyl gave a strange laugh and started down the stairs towards her.

  All Amelia could think about was her mother, and this murderous creature was standing between them and for some deep dark reason wanted to kill them both.

  With no weapons, and miraculously free from pain Amelia charged in rage and fear up the stairs towards her nemesis. Ryxyl didn’t have to move. Instead she flowed, such was her athletic skill. A slight change of balance and her foot slammed into the side of Amelia’s head. She was catapulted backwards down to the central landing with such force her back jarred against the stair post. Pain invaded her again and stunned by the blow she charged back up towards Ryxyl who was poised, confident and laughing, at her. This time Ryxyl did move. She twisted sideways and Amelia screamed in agony as Ryxyl’s heel smashed into her knee. Amelia fell again and, looking up, saw the masked devil raise her sword for what looked like the ‘coup de gras’.

  ***

  Scrambling to her feet Rayn hit the woods following the path Amelia had ploughed through the undergrowth. She hurdled the paddock fence in one, landing in time to see Horace disappearing towards the iron bridge and the camp site in chaos,

  “Is anyone hurt?” she shouted. It was Joe who answered first.

  “Don’t think so. You okay Jaz?” Jahal, who had a protective arm around her, gave the thumbs up sign.

  As she sped past the caravan, her mother called out to her from the steps. “Rayn, you might need this,” and threw something to her. Rayn knew what it was the minute her hands closed over it – the throwing knife belt she was making as a gift for Amelia. At that moment Claire ran up to her. “Rayn, Rayn, they’ve gone to the Hall. Take the kissing gate path and jump the wall at the sluice gate. It’s quicker. When you get past th
e mill, watch out for the …” But Rayn had outrun her and was way ahead.

  “Nigel! Molly! Follow me,” Rayn called as she raced down the path, trying to avoid the divots, those great clods of mud thrown up by Horace’s hooves.

  She vaulted the kissing gate and was on familiar ground. It was the path they used on their morning runs and led straight to the old mill. Squeezed as it was between the dry stone wall of the Tetherington Estate boundary and the river, it was definitely single file. The speed she was going forced her to concentrate on every step. Amelia had told her about her latest dream and she knew the consequences of a mistake. There was no plan B.

  Scaling the wall at the sluice gate, she could concentrate on her speed up to the mill. She ran past the old slumbering building, scattering birds and wildlife in her wake and on into the more dense trees on the other side of the clearing. Never having been this far before, she had trouble with the twists and turns. Focussing on speed so much she was surprised when she found herself up to her waist in muddy, stagnant water. Dragging herself from the over-grown mill-race dyke, she ignored the dead leaves and slime, remembering Claire’s warning too late. The brambles and foliage tore at her face and hands and she emerged to find herself on the edge of the extensive landscaped lawns and gardens of the Hall. She was at one end of the house, looking along the front. In her urgency she ran straight through the beautifully manicured flowerbeds, up over the balustrade and onto a wide veranda that ran the full length of the Mansion.

  Swerving left through the open doors, she was confronted with a sight that challenged her sanity. Amelia was halfway up the first landing staircase, leading up to the right. She was half crouching with her arms raised in a hopelessly futile attempt to defend herself from the sword which was about to strike her from above.

  The strange creature wielding it was like something from a world of mythology. Long flowing white robes, hooded and masked, it looked almost ceremonial. One more step and Amelia would die.