My aunt nodded and turned to me. ‘Gregor is a lecturer in Romanian history at the University of Bucharest. He’s currently touring the academic world, passing on his knowledge.’
I felt the start of a blush rising from under my T-shirt. Gregor might be of gypsy origins but he was highly educated, well dressed and clearly super intelligent. OK, so I’d got the black hair right and he did have a gold stud in his ear but I still felt ashamed of the way I’d imagined him. It really wasn’t like me to judge people before I’d even met them, apart from Nico’s father and there were all kinds of exceptional circumstances there. Clearing my throat, I willed the redness to subside. ‘Hi. Does that mean you’re an expert in Romanian folklore?’
Gregor tilted his head. ‘It is part of my country’s history, which means I have studied it. What is it you want to know of the Solomanarii?’
Taking a deep breath, I plunged straight in. ‘How much do you know about them?’
His dark eyes were calm on mine. ‘Theirs is not a name I hear mentioned very often outside Romania. Why do you ask?’
I glanced at Celestine, wondering where to begin. ‘I think a friend of mine might be mixed up with them,’ I said, after a moment’s thought. ‘But no one can tell us anything about them, it’s all smoke and rumours. I don’t know what to believe.’
Gregor placed his briefcase on the ring-marked coffee table and opened it. ‘Firstly, I must warn you that the Solomonarii are shrouded in darkness. They are a secret society who prize their concealment above all else. For your friend to have heard of them at all is a very bad sign.’
He reached into the briefcase and took out a drawing, which he handed to me. It showed a cliff-top castle, complete with soaring orange-roofed towers and forbidding grey walls. Above the castle were thunderous dark clouds. The surrounding land was covered by a mixture of fir trees and bare branches, reaching out like skeletal fingers to drag me in. Feeling myself sway forwards, I blinked and looked away. The sensation disappeared.
‘These documents are photocopies of some within the university’s private collection and are not commonly seen. I have them with me to compare with others I might discover on my tour,’ Gregor said, apparently oblivious to the effect the picture had on me. ‘The building you see is called the Scholomance, also known as the Devil’s Academy. Its exact location is unknown, but legend says it is hidden somewhere in the Carpathian mountains. It was once home to Prince Vlad Tepes, son of Vlad Dracul. Both were terrible men who lived during a blood-thirsty time in Romania’s past. Now we believe it is used as headquarters for the Solomonarii.’
I thought back to the night in Highgate with Nico. He’d mentioned the Devil’s Academy, I was sure of it, but he hadn’t called it the Scholomance. I wondered if I should tell Gregor and decided against it; there’d be plenty of time to share later.
Celestine took the picture from me and studied it. ‘But who are they?’
‘The story begins in the fifteenth century, during the rule of Vlad Dracul. You have heard of him, perhaps, as the inspiration behind the novel Dracula?’ He paused and my aunt and I both nodded. ‘It was actually his son, Vlad the Impaler, who the story is supposedly based on. The name Dracula translates as Son of Dracul. Since the word dracul can mean devil, you begin to see where the rumours of evil-doing have their roots.’
A sudden burst of rain rattled against the window, making Celestine and me jump in our seats. Uneasily, I glanced up at the darkening sky outside; what had happened to the warm spring weather I’d seen that morning? ‘The Solomonarii aren’t vampires. Nico told me that.’
A flicker of something showed in Gregor’s eyes at the mention of Nico’s name but he didn’t pick up on it. ‘We don’t know what they are. Vlad Dracul was a knight of the Dragon Order, an ancient Christian sect who would go to any lengths to protect their native lands against invasion from the Turks. Perhaps his son used this noble order to further the deeds of the Solomonarii.’
The history lesson was beginning to grate on my nerves. ‘What deeds?’
‘They say there are nine members at any one time. Each must learn the crafts of the order and must pass a series of initiation rites before they are considered a full member. The crafts include controlling the weather, speaking the language of animals and controlling the dead.’
I thought back to the way Nico had manipulated the weather and spoken to the ravens. Celestine gripped my hand sympathetically, before asking, ‘Who teaches them how to do these things?’
Gregor took out another drawing but didn’t pass it across. Instead, he fixed us with a serious look. ‘There is a tenth member, one who never leaves the Scholomance and is master of all the others. He is said to belong to the devil and teaches the rest their art. Vlad the Impaler was rumoured to be one such master and I expect there have been many more since his death. He commands their actions.’
Outside, the rain continued to batter at the window and the wind howled around the building. Fleetingly, I remembered how the Solomonarii controlled the weather and wondered if one of them was nearby. Gregor seemed unfazed, though, and held out the sheet of paper. I hesitated, recalling the way the last image had affected me, then took it and showed it to Celestine. It was a rough drawing of a square talisman with nine symbols carved deep into it. I traced the marks with one finger. ‘What does it do?’
He folded his hands in his lap. ‘I cannot say. The original drawings came to the university decades ago and, despite many years of research, we are no closer to deciphering the symbols or locating the Scholomance. Perhaps it no longer exists.’
Thinking back to what Nico had told me about the Devil’s Academy, I had a hunch it still existed. ‘Isn’t there a chance that you’ve misunderstood what the Solomonarii do? My friend told me they try to help the dead, not control them.’
‘Ah yes, this friend. You mentioned his name earlier, Nico, wasn’t it?’ Reluctantly, I nodded. ‘And he is of Romanian descent?’
Again, I tipped my head. ‘He’s not a bad person.’
Gregor smiled in a thin-lipped way. ‘Perhaps not yet. But if he is truly involved with the Solomonarii, it is only a matter of time before he is corrupted.’ He must have seen something in my face because his smile vanished. ‘You do not think so? Let me explain what happens to a spirit the Solomonarii try to “help”, as you call it. They start by luring the weak ones in with wild promises, of a physical existence again, say, or eternal life in this world. Blinded by these promises and its own desperation to live again, the spirit undergoes a ritual to become something more than merely a ghost. They become a creature neither living nor dead, who survives by drawing the life out of others. All sense of who they were before is lost and they exist in the shadows of this world, as insubstantial as ghosts but drawn to the living by an irresistible force. It is this that the Solomonarii use to control them.’ He stared solemnly into our horrified faces. ‘They become the Eaten.’
At the words, an almighty clap of thunder rumbled outside the window. A split second later there was a crash in the church and howls tore through the building. Heart racing, I leaped to my feet and yanked open the door. Wind tugged at my hair and clothes as I battled my way into the church, where George and Eddie were gazing towards the entrance doors with terrified expressions.
‘It’sh the apocalypshe!’ Eddie cried toothlessly, his bottom lip quivering millimetres away from his flaring nostrils. ‘We’re all doomed!’
‘Actually, I think it’s just the wind,’ Celestine said in a more practical voice, hurrying forward to close the banging doors before they blew off their hinges. ‘But extra points for atmospheric hysteria, Eddie.’
I wasn’t so sure it wasn’t one of the Solomonarii and a shiver ran down my spine. Eddie and George seemed reassured, though, and returned to their game of chess, darting grumbling glances towards both my aunt and the doors.
Gregor’s voice in the sudden silence as my aunt finished wrestling with the doors made me jump. ‘I must be going now. My presence h
ere might put you in danger.’ He was standing directly behind me, briefcase in hand. I hadn’t heard him approach.
‘How?’ I asked.
He eyed me solemnly. ‘I cannot be sure but this weather suggests one of the dark clan is nearby. Perhaps they seek to silence me again, as they have many times before.’
Celestine came towards us and said, ‘Let’s hope the bad weather is coincidental. Thank you for coming here and sharing your knowledge with us.’
He held out a rectangle of card. ‘These are my contact details. We will need to talk again to work out how to proceed.’ My aunt took the card and Gregor looked at me. ‘Your friend may yet be saved but you should prepare yourself for the worst. The Solomonarii do not easily relinquish those they have claimed.’
An icy chill ran down my back. ‘He really isn’t bad,’ I repeated, whispering.
A faint smile crossed Gregor’s face. ‘Then all is not lost.’
He shook our hands and began to walk towards the back of the church. Then he stopped and directed a gimlet-eyed stare towards the ghosts. ‘If you make that move, my friend, your opponent will have check-mate in another two. Choose wisely.’
George froze, chess piece held aloft, and gazed at Gregor, who winked and continued on his way. Seconds later, he was gone and the two ghosts were arguing furiously.
‘I would have bet my best lip-gloss that he wasn’t psychic,’ I said, staring after him in dazed bemusement.
‘Don’t judge a book by its cover,’ Celestine replied. ‘Even professors have secrets and I get the feeling there’s a lot more to Gregor than just history.’
I shook my head to clear it. ‘Lesson learned, along with a lot of other things.’ A feeling of disquiet overcame me as I mulled over everything Gregor had told us. ‘Is that really true, about ghosts becoming kind of parasites?’
Celestine’s expression was grim. ‘I don’t know. If it is, then it’s too horrible to think about.’ She paused and then spoke again in a rushed voice. ‘You’re not going to like this but I think you need to keep away from Nico, no matter how much he protests that the Solomonarii are a force for good.’
A few days ago, I would have agreed. But Nico had asked me to give him a chance to prove what he’d said was true and I intended to let him try. Celestine didn’t need to know that, though. ‘OK.’
My aunt blinked. ‘That’s it? No argument?’
‘How can I argue after what Gregor told us? Besides, it sounds like he has more information to give us. I’d rather sit tight until we have all the facts.’ I summoned up my most innocent expression. ‘I think I left my Oyster card in the meeting room. I’ll just go and check.’
If she was suspicious, she didn’t show it but it was always a risk lying to Celestine; my aura tended to give me away. My Oyster was safely tucked in my pocket. What I really wanted to check was whether Gregor had left the photocopies he’d shown us behind. I wanted to show them to Nico, to see if he could add anything to the information Gregor had given us. It was a long shot, though, and I was fresh out of luck; the coffee table was empty. Clenching my fists in frustration, I turned in the doorway and bumped straight into Celestine.
‘Find what you were looking for?’ she asked in a soft voice, gazing directly over my head.
There was no point in lying. ‘No,’ I said, forcing a smile. ‘It was here in my jeans the whole time.’
This time, she let her suspicion show. ‘You do surprise me. Let’s go.’
I didn’t argue. The minute I got to the laptop I’d be logging on to Facebook. It was about time I extended a Friend Request of my own.
Chapter 14
It took all the courage I had to go to meet Owen at the lake. But I’m not the kind of person who avoids situations just because they’re unpleasant, and knowing I had to break things off with Owen definitely qualified as unpleasant. After a minor interrogation about where I was going, Celestine agreed to drop me at Hyde Park. The freak thunderstorm had cleared but the wind hadn’t and it bit through my thin jacket as I cut across the park. My top priority was persuading Owen to let me talk to his sister to see if I could work out what was holding him here. And then I planned to have the kind of heart-to-heart I’d never had with a ghost before. Actually, it was a conversation I’d never had with anyone before. What was I supposed to say? Somehow, ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ lacked the ring of truth. When the person you were dumping was a ghost, the problem really wasn’t you.
My resolve stuck around for approximately three seconds once I saw him. He was standing in the middle of the lake, watching the boats circling round, surrounded by laughter and pleasure. Once again, I remembered that I was all he had and I knew I had to make him face up to his fear of passing across. He couldn’t hang around this lake forever, growing lonely and bitter while I got old; I wouldn’t let him.
He spotted me and raised an arm to wave. Moments later, he’d covered the water and was standing next to me.
‘Hey,’ he said, his flawed smile melting my worries away. He reached out a hand. ‘How’s my favourite psychic?’
‘I’m OK,’ I answered, lifting my index finger to meet his. There was a brief pressure on my fingertip and I felt a familiar thrill, then it was gone. ‘How’s my favourite ghost?’
‘Feeling good, since you ask,’ he said, his smile widening. ‘Better than good, actually. I have something to tell you and I think you’re going to like it.’
A little voice in my head whispered that I had things to tell him, too, but I refused to listen. ‘Oh? Go on, then.’
He waved a finger at me. ‘Uh-uh. This isn’t the kind of good news you blurt out just anywhere. We need to find somewhere special.’
I raised my eyebrows. ‘Did you have anywhere in mind?’
‘Funny you should ask. Ever been on one of those open-topped bus tours of the city? You know, the ones which take in Buckingham Palace, Big Ben, Downing Street?’
‘All the tourist traps, you mean?’ I said dubiously and he nodded. ‘No.’
He grinned. ‘So let’s do it. Be sightseers in our own town.’
I pulled out my purse and checked the contents. ‘How much do you think it’ll cost?’
‘Depends if you count as a child or not,’ he teased. ‘I promise I won’t make you pay for me.’
‘Thanks,’ I said dryly. ‘You’re a real gentleman.’
Owen bowed. ‘I do my best. Shall we go? If we leave it too long, we’ll miss the film later.’
Here it was, my perfect opportunity to tell him the movie date was off. I opened my mouth to say it and then I saw his enthusiastic expression and the words died in my throat. ‘We wouldn’t want that, would we?’
His laughter rang out. ‘You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you weren’t looking forward to this trip to the cinema. I guess action films aren’t your thing.’
Forcing a smile, I laughed along with him. ‘Not really.’
‘But there’ve been some classics,’ he objected. I barely listened as he began listing his favourite blockbusters of all time. Somehow in the next few hours, I’d have to bring the conversation round to his sister. And then the hard work would begin.
***
The tour bus was busier than I expected; London tourists were obviously a determined bunch, although they weren’t a patch on the hardy sightseers we got in Edinburgh, where the rain could have your eye out if you weren’t careful. We chose seats on the quieter top floor, away from a bunch of snap-happy Japanese visitors. They were far too engrossed in the commentary from their headphones to pay attention to a lone girl sitting at the back of the bus and that suited me fine. Apart from me and the tourists, there was only one other passenger: a dark-haired man who’d joined the bus shortly after Owen and me. He sat a few rows in front of us. Owen didn’t give him a second glance but something about him nagged at me and, every now and then, my gaze came to rest on the uncut hair straggling down the back of his collar. I couldn’t pin it down, whatever it was, and dismissed him from
my mind. Instead, I huddled in my seat and tried to forget that my fingers had turned to icicles.
It took me until the London Eye to get Owen talking about his family. I sensed he was reluctant to discuss them and I wondered whether Celestine’s words at the Dearly D had affected him more than I’d realised. Eventually, I spotted an opening when he mentioned a birthday trip on the Eye and I pounced.
‘Did Cerys enjoy it?’ I tried to keep my tone as casual as possible.
Owen snorted. ‘Are you kidding? She’s scared of heights and couldn’t wait to get back down. At one point, a complete stranger even offered her a tenner to stop crying.’
I pictured the scene; Cerys sounded more high-maintenance than Mary. ‘Did she take it?’
‘No. I would have,’ he said, shaking his head pityingly. ‘Ten pounds is ten pounds, after all.’
‘I bet she could be a bit of a pain,’ I said, pulling a face. ‘It makes me glad I’m an only child.’
As I’d hoped, Owen leaped to his sister’s defence. ‘She wasn’t so bad. Sometimes, I actually quite liked her, even if she was drippier than a Cornetto in a heatwave.’
The bus turned onto Tower Bridge and I made a grab for the stainless steel railing as a gust of wind buffeted me sideways. Alarmed chatter broke out among the tourists but it didn’t make them lower their cameras. Owen, of course, didn’t so much as flinch.
‘I’d still like to talk to her,’ I ventured. ‘About you, I mean. I think it might help.’
His grey eyes met mine. ‘Her or me?’
‘Both.’
He held my gaze for several long seconds, then looked away. ‘We’ve been through this, Skye. It won’t make any difference to how I feel about passing across.’ He reached out and brushed my cheek. It felt like the caress of a moth wing. ‘I want to stay here with you. Is that so hard to accept?’
I swallowed. ‘Owen, you know that can’t happen. You’ll end up miserable. We both will.’
He sat in silence, gazing at the murky waters of the Thames as the tour made its way over the bridge towards the Tower of London. Unbidden, the memory of my visit there and my near-kiss with Nico sprang into my mind and guilt coursed through me. Was the real reason I wanted to help Owen to pass across so that I wouldn’t feel so bad around him? Or was it really the best thing for him? It dawned on me that my motives were no longer as clear-cut as they had been.
My So-Called Phantom Love Life Page 10