The Spider Goddess

by Tara Moss

‘And one more thing,’ I said, surprised by my growing confidence. I’d had another idea. Athanasia seemed to be at the heart of any trouble. ‘I want to know if she or her friends have anything to do with the missing knitwear designers.’

  Athanasia looked up. Her eyebrows were raised.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Sandy Chow? Victor Mal?’ I pressed.

  ‘Who?’

  I could see she knew nothing.

  ‘Never mind.’

  ‘Okay. Now go in peace,’ Deus said to both of us.

  In peace? Could a Sanguine go in peace? Deus seemed to be able to. It was hard to believe they were the same species. Athanasia stood and bowed to Deus. I wasn’t sure if I should do the same – I hadn’t before. I stood up from the chair and watched their exchange with interest.

  ‘Go to ground for a while, Athanasia,’ he told her, and her face dropped. Well, half of it was already dropping, I supposed.

  She nodded and backed away from him with surprising reverence. She retreated right up to the casket, opened it and left us.

  I have to say, the sight of her scurrying away gave me no small degree of immature pleasure.

  Suck on that, I thought.

  In truth, I was a little surprised at myself. I’d never thought I was someone who would enjoy that kind of mean satisfaction. It was a bit shameful, really.

  ‘She won’t be bothering you again,’ Deus said after a moment.

  ‘For a while, perhaps,’ I replied.

  He nodded sagely. ‘Could I have you for a moment longer, Pandora?’

  Have me? ‘Um, sure.’

  ‘There is another matter I wish to discuss with you.’ He indicated that I should sit again and I took my seat, puzzled. I was beginning to feel much more confident in his presence, just as Celia had promised, but I didn’t exactly want to hang around to see what he could do.

  ‘Your great-aunt tells me you have a friend here. She tells me he is unable to leave the walls of the mansion.’

  Lieutenant Luke.

  I sat up a touch straighter. ‘Yes. Yes, that’s true,’ I said. ‘Do you know anything about him? His name is Second Lieutenant Luke Thomas.’

  ‘I believe I may know something of interest.’ Deus leaned forward, and I found myself looking into his eyes and watching those long eyelashes blink. I had much better control over my reaction to him, but I was still far from immune to his surprising aura of power and energy. ‘I’m sure you realise this particular building is well known in Spektor. The architect and original owner, Dr Barrett, was quite an unusual man and performed experiments.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. I’d heard a lot of morbid reports. Barrett was a founding member of the Global Society for Psychical Research, a group formed in the late 1800s to investigate reports of telepathy, psychic ability, ghost sightings and so on.

  ‘Pandora, some of the experiments were about necromancy,’ Deus said.

  I lifted my eyebrows. ‘Raising the dead?’ I said.

  From what I understood, necromancy was the practice of raising the dead for the purposes of fortune-telling or divination. Corpse prophecy. Without physical bodies, spirits were thought to be no longer limited by the earthly plane, and therefore in possession of great secrets – the future, hidden truths about the past, the real cause of their deaths or the deaths of others. My relationship with Luke seemed to gel with that idea. He seemed to know so much, but was forbidden from telling me many of the secrets of the dead. Necromancy, along with witchcraft and other occult practices, was severely frowned upon by the church. The Victorian establishment would certainly have disapproved of Barrett’s experiments.

  Deus continued. ‘Barrett was in the habit of acquiring cadavers for these attempts.’ Still that grin did not leave Deus’s face, despite the morbid topic.

  I grimaced. ‘He used actual bodies?’ Obviously getting a medium around and summoning energy from an old wedding ring wasn’t enough for Barrett. ‘But he couldn’t have possibly had Luke’s . . . um, remains. He died in the Civil War,’ I protested. ‘He was a second lieutenant. A war hero.’ Well, I didn’t know if he was technically a war hero, but that’s certainly how I thought of him.

  Deus shrugged. ‘I’m not sure where the lieutenant was buried, or whether his remains were put to rest properly, but there was a flourishing underground trade in bodies during Victorian times.’

  How grisly. I thought of the store next to Pandora magazine, and the skull Morticia wanted. How much of a person was left in their bones? What happened when someone was not ‘put to rest properly’?

  ‘Soldiers were thought to be strong spirits,’ he said. ‘Strong enough to travel to the underworld and back.’

  When I emerged from the candlelit antechamber with the silver tray, my great-aunt was waiting. She re-locked the door behind me and led me into the kitchen. My head was reeling with everything I’d learned. I wondered if I would be able to sleep a wink.

  I placed the tray on the counter. I’d barely touched the tea, but I felt jumpy. ‘Can Athanasia get in here now?’ I asked. ‘Into the penthouse? Because she was invited into that room?’

  ‘No,’ Celia assured me. ‘She can’t come in. The Sanguine are not invited here.’

  ‘Is that why you lock the door? So they can’t get in?’

  She smiled. ‘They can’t cross that threshold. It is forbidden.’

  It was one of those supernatural rules. Sometimes they got me quite confused. Celia had mentioned this one before, of course. According to her, needing to be invited into a home was one of the few rumours about the Sanguine that actually was true. That, and the whole fang thing, I’d noticed. Yes, that rumour seemed strongly founded.

  ‘It’s time I gave you the key. You’ve been here long enough to understand the dangers.’ To my surprise, she had a key ready and pressed it into my hand.

  I blinked. Did that mean I could now enter the antechamber and explore the hidden staircase?

  ‘Thank you. I appreciate it,’ I said. It seemed as if I’d passed some kind of test. I slipped the key into my pocket.

  ‘It may fit a few doors in the house.’

  I raised an eyebrow. A skeleton key? Was she suggesting I could finally explore?

  Great-Aunt Celia took her fine leather gloves off, brought the cups to the sink and prepared to do the washing up. ‘No, no. Let me do that,’ I said, taking over. It felt good to do something distracting and useful with my hands. My body was charged with nervous energy and my head was busy trying to process everything. I poured the tea out and ran water into the sink.

  ‘Deus mentioned the necromancy experiments to you?’ my great-aunt said.

  I nodded mutely and reached for the detergent. The idea was a bit hard for me to take. For starters, my feelings about Luke were a little confused already, even without imagining his disinterred corpse lying around in the mansion, or lying around anywhere for that matter. I couldn’t think of him that way. He wasn’t just any old dead guy to me.

  Great-Aunt Celia said nothing, she just watched thoughtfully while I cleaned the cups and put them back on the cupboard shelf. When I was finished she led me to her reading chair in the lounge room. I sat on the leather hassock with Freyja purring around my ankles. Celia balanced herself elegantly on the wide arm of her chair, posing like a designer who instinctively understood the most flattering position for the garment she wore. She looked like a fashion illustration from 1949. Some habits never disappeared, I supposed.

  ‘I know you’ve had a big night,’ she began, ‘but I do want to discuss something important with you. It’s better that we discuss this now.’

  I nodded. My brain felt pretty full already.

  ‘Now listen to me carefully. When you first arrived here, I told you not to explore the other floors of the building under any circumstances.’

  ‘I remember. It was because of the Sanguine,’ I said. I had gone against her wishes and explored one of the other floors on one occasion, and I’d nearly been necked for it.

&nbs
p; ‘The dangers of the Sanguine. That was part of it, yes,’ she replied.

  That was only part of it?

  ‘Pandora, there are some passageways you may not be aware of.’

  I thought of the casket on the antechamber’s floor, and the staircase beyond it. ‘I wanted to ask you where the hidden passageway in the coffin led,’ I said. ‘Does it meet up with the mezzanine, or . . .?’

  ‘That passageway is one of many. Dr Barrett had some mysterious motives when he built this place. It’s possible that he wanted to keep some of his experiments secret from the rest of the world, and from his wife, in particular. She was of a sensitive disposition, by all accounts, and his work was sometimes dark. He dabbled in things Victorian society did not appreciate. Forbidden things. Necromancy was only part of it.’

  I swallowed. Celia had told me before that Barrett came from a wealthy and prominent family, but even that had not been enough to protect him when his experiments clashed with the standards and ideals of his colleagues. He had been banished from the Society for Psychical Research. If he was in the habit of acquiring stolen corpses, I could understand why.

  ‘He used bodies,’ I said with displeasure. ‘That’s what Deus told me.’

  ‘Yes,’ she confirmed. ‘So he retreated to this house to conduct his experiments in secret. Now, there are some hidden doors and passageways in this house, Pandora. You have been here long enough to earn the right to explore the house and, frankly, I know you will anyway.’

  I felt the heat on my cheeks.

  ‘Eventually you will find some of these hidden areas. But there are some things you should know before you do. If you are to explore this building, you must do so carefully. There are dangers.’

  I imagined stumbling into rooms infested with hordes of vampires. ‘If I explore, I should do it during the day.’

  She shook her head. ‘Not necessarily.’

  I was surprised. ‘The Sanguine aren’t the danger then? What is?’

  ‘Dangers even I can’t know.’

  I was taken aback. It seemed to me there was very little my great-aunt did not know. What dangers would she not know about here, in the building she owned? That thought was mildly terrifying.

  ‘You would do best to bring your guide,’ she said.

  ‘There’s a guide? Like a map?’

  ‘Not a map. Your friend, the soldier. I believe he is your guide.’

  I couldn’t have been more surprised. Luke? A guide? Well, of course. He would know the house inside out, wouldn’t he?

  ‘Don’t assume he knows everything that is here,’ she warned me, and I was sure she’d read my mind. ‘And don’t assume he has the power to tell you all that he does know. There are things even he needs to discover in this place. Perhaps you will help him to find what he searches for.’

  I opened my mouth to ask what things, but she placed a firm hand on my knee and continued. She had more to tell me tonight.

  ‘I have something for you,’ she said, and took something small from the silk pocket of her dress. She held the object in her palm, and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again she was uncharacteristically serious. She opened her milky white hand to reveal a piece of jewellery – a ring. The gemstone was jet black, held with ornate, pale gold claws. It was delicate looking, and clearly very old.

  ‘This ring is very special. I believe it belongs to you,’ my great-aunt said.

  ‘Belongs to me?’ In my former life I might have protested that I hadn’t seen the ring before, and therefore it could not be mine, but I’d grown used to Celia’s manner of speaking. She believed that certain things were predestined. This ring, she believed, was meant to be mine. Whether or not she’d tell me why was another matter. ‘It’s gorgeous. What is it made of? Is that polished jet?’ I asked.

  She shook her head. ‘No. I love my Whitby jet, but no. Look at that shine. Really look within the crystal.’

  I did as she said. Deep within the black there seemed to be some small blazing pinpoint of energy.

  ‘It is the eyes of the dead Pharaohs, the eyes of the Moai on Easter Island, as dark as the soul but with a star of life inside.’ She shifted the ring in her pale palm, and the black blazed and shone. ‘A symbol of rebirth and protection, historically used in talismans and amulets to conjure up spirit energy to safely interact with Earth-bound souls.’

  ‘Black obsidian,’ I said, marvelling at it.

  She nodded. ‘Very good. This ring belonged to your great-great-grandmother, Madame Aurora. It has been waiting for you, Pandora. It will protect you and assist you.’ She handed it to me.

  ‘This belonged to Madame Aurora?’ Celia had shown me clippings from her infamous days with Barnum and Bailey. She was a gifted psychic in her day, and she was a Lucasta, as I was. Apparently she could even make objects move at her will, which must have really stunned anyone who witnessed it. I imagined tarot cards floating past astonished faces, and clients parting with their cash. I was part of a curious family tree of women with unusual abilities. For reasons I didn’t fully understand, my mother had never told me about Madame Aurora. She’d tried to shield me from her family history.

  ‘I’m honoured. It’s beautiful . . .’ I held it gently by the band and examined it with awe. The pale gold setting was forged a long time ago, that much was clear. The tiny carvings looked almost like melted wax. The setting had a wonderfully aged patina, but the crystal itself was bright. I couldn’t take my eyes off the inky depth of the blackness, or the light it reflected at its core. It seemed imbued with a mysterious energy. ‘I don’t know what to say. It is truly beautiful.’

  Celia nodded. ‘Go on.’

  I slipped the ring gently on to my ring finger. It fitted perfectly.

  ‘There. See how it fits you like it was always there on your hand? Wear it day and night, Pandora.’

  I nodded, still staring at it. Was it my imagination, or was the crystal slightly warm?

  ‘Now Pandora, listen to me carefully.’ Celia was as serious as I’d ever seen her. Her eyes were intensely direct. ‘Never travel below Barrett’s basement laboratory, not under any circumstances.’

  ‘There is a basement?’

  ‘It is said that there is.’

  ‘That’s where the fire was, right? The fire that killed Edmund Barrett?’

  She nodded.

  ‘But you haven’t seen the laboratory yourself?’

  ‘This house has not opened all its secrets to me. But I do know this, Pandora – never ever travel lower than the laboratory. If you discover a passage that leads underground, do not take it. Do you hear me? Not even with your guide.’

  ‘Yes, of course. But how will I know if I’ve found the laboratory?’

  ‘You will know.’

  ‘But if you haven’t seen it yourself, how can you be sure I will know if I find it?’ I asked.

  ‘You will know.’

  We were both silent for a time.

  ‘Luke is my guide?’ I finally said.

  She nodded.

  ‘The Seventh always has a spirit guide. And a personal talisman.’

  I looked to the ring.

  My talisman?

  I woke up early on Friday morning to watch the first washed-out rays of sun filter across the ceiling of my room. My hair was spread out across the pillow, and my arms were tucked beneath my cheek, the warm sheets sitting high on my collarbone.

  The obsidian ring.

  I lifted my right hand, flexed my fingers out and stared at the fascinating new addition perched on my ring finger. When Celia had first given me the ring, it seemed slightly warm, but now it felt pleasantly cool on my skin. Nothing had changed about the puzzling depth of that inky crystal, nor the strangely beautiful pinpoint of light at its centre.

  This was my personal talisman?

  I wondered where Madame Aurora had acquired it. Through the Lucasta line? Or from some exotic dealer? I didn’t know much about my great-great-grandmother, and I was increasingly curiou
s about her powers. Was she truly the psychic and medium Celia said she was? I tried to imagine what her life might have been like, travelling with Barnum and Bailey.

  I thought of the key my great-aunt had entrusted me with, and almost before I knew it, I was dressed and slipping out the door of the penthouse. I took the rattling old lift down to the dusty lobby, stepped out and stopped in the centre of the tiled space beneath the broken chandelier. Arms crossed, with one finger at my chin, I studied the space around me.

  Hidden passageways?

  The oval, high-ceilinged lobby was cool, as always, and I buttoned Celia’s beautiful winter coat up to my neck. I closed my eyes for a moment, collecting myself, and when I opened them again I noticed things I hadn’t seen previously. The tilework of the floor, for instance, was cracked from one side to the other, with several smaller splits spreading out from the main line, not unlike the divided lifeline of my palm. (What would Madame Aurora have made of that?) Though not immediately visible the split in the tiles was significant, and I wondered what kind of movement would have caused such damage. There was also a split up the wall that snaked out into several branches. I cast my eyes over the dusty wall sconces and the spiked fleurs-de-lis of the elaborate lift cage. They were magnificent, if broken in places. Nowhere, though, did I see a door or an entrance I hadn’t previously been aware of. I approached the walls and began looking for gaps or cracks. I confess I even pushed on a protruding tile or two on the floor. I walked up the snaking staircase to the sealed wooden door of the mezzanine, pushed and pulled at it, and then walked down again. It wasn’t exactly a hidden door, but I’d never seen it opened. Perhaps Luke could tell me what was beyond it?

  I looked for concealed entrances, levers, buttons. What kind of hidden passageways had Barrett built? I had to think in terms of Victorian technology, I reminded myself. Any special levers might even be broken.

  Tonight. Tonight I will explore. And I’ll bring my spirit guide.

  I emerged from the subway steps in SoHo to find that the skies had opened up. My black umbrella proved almost too unwieldy to manage as the rain moved sideways across the street in violent gusts, pummelling cars and pedestrians alike. It was in these moments that New York was its most impersonal and cold. Commuters were faceless and hurried. The spikes of passing wet umbrellas battled silently as if jousting. My brolly turned inside out, and I jabbed the ground with it until it flipped round again.