by Pat Spence
Theo smiled ruefully. “Some because we chose them, others because they can afford it. Eternal youth doesn’t come cheap, Emily. Privilege and opportunity has always been the domain of the super-rich.”
“And you can trust them to keep the secret?” I asked. “Surely they could sell the information and make millions?”
He laughed. “Money has no meaning to them. They have all the wealth they need. They count currency in something far more valuable: longevity. Besides, each one has sworn never to reveal the secret of the crystal, or be cast out and face annihilation.”
“Cast out by whom?”
He looked down and considered his words before replying. “The Lunari,” he replied, “the order that was formed many years ago to protect the crystal.”
“Lunari?” I echoed, remembering the strange chanting from the previous night.
“You must understand,” said Theo, “this is a secret that can never get out. If it fell into the wrong hands, its power could be abused and employed as a destructive force. Nations have fought wars for less. The Lunari exists to ensure this never happens. And if they find that anyone has gained knowledge of the crystal whom they have not initiated, they take immediate steps to eradicate the threat.”
“Eradicate is a strong word,” I said. “These Lunari people… do they know about me? Were they at the Blue Moon Ball?”
“No, they weren’t at the Ball. They have their own means of ensuring their immortality and have no need of a blue moon. For the moment, I believe they don’t know of your existence. We have contained the information, but the Guardians are unhappy.”
“And they are?” I asked, although I suspected I already knew the answer.
“Aquila and Pantera,” he answered. “You may not know it but you have been under surveillance for some time. They are shape shifters appointed by The Lunari to safeguard the crystal and advise of any threat they detect. The Lunari have given them absolute power to destroy where necessary.”
“Shape shifters,” I repeated. “You mean people who can assume other forms?”
“Yes, Aquila becomes a black Eastern eagle who sees everything, and Pantera a black panther, with exceptional speed and strength…”
“And large yellow eyes?” I asked.
“Why yes,” said Theo, puzzled. “You’ve seen her?”
“I think so,” I swallowed. “I think she may have seen me entering the church last night, although the hood was pulled around my face, so she may not have identified me. There again, if they have the authority to kill and I’m such a threat, why am I still here?”
“Because you have protection,” said Theo, reaching over and hooking the silver chain that hung around my neck with his finger. The blue crystal shone in the candlelight, its many facets sparkling and twinkling.
“Is that…?” I started to say and Theo smiled.
“Yes, it’s a tiny fragment of the big crystal. We all wear them. They give us protection. As long as you wear this, Aquila and Pantera cannot touch you.”
“And you wear one as well,” I said, “but yours has a white cameo placed at its centre… bearing the picture of the girl who looks like me…”
Theo looked into my eyes. “Emily, the girl doesn’t just look like you. I believe it is you.”
“What do you mean?” I cried, “I’ve never met you before.”
“It’s a long story and one I don’t have time to tell now,” he said. “But many, many years ago, I met a girl who was the very image of you. I loved her more than life itself, but something happened and I lost her. I thought I would never see her again, until the day I went to Hartsdown College and there you were. We shook hands and the connection was there, do you remember?”
“How could I forget?” I murmured. “You gave me an electric shock.”
“The energy is there between us, the same energy that existed before. Believe me, I fought against it. I didn’t want to endanger you and risk losing you again. But the pull was too great. I had to be with you.”
“How did you lose this girl? What happened?”
“That is something I will tell you another time. I cannot speak of it now.”
This was all getting too much to take in. I needed time and space to digest what he was saying. But there was more…
“Emily, you’re not just at risk from The Lunari.”
“Great, this gets better and better. Who else wants to get rid of me?”
“We have enemies,” he said flatly. “There are those that know of the crystal’s existence and would steal it from us. We call them the Dark Ones, shadow beings who live by dark means, who crave the crystal’s light to assume human form. Some, known as The Reptilia, have achieved a low evolutionary form; others remain dark creatures of anti-matter, parasites who leach the life-force out of living beings to stay alive. We call them Feeders. All are malignant and deadly, and would stop at nothing to possess the crystal.”
“But how are they a danger to me?” I asked. “They know nothing about me.”
“These creatures are waiting and watching all the time. They are constantly looking for the crystal. That’s why we had to leave Egypt. It was getting too risky. They will search for any way to gain leverage over us and compel us to hand it over.” He dropped his voice, “Emily, they will exploit any weak link in our armour.”
“And that weak link is me,” I said faintly. “I’m not just in danger from The Lunari and the Guardians, but some kind of weird reptilian shadow creatures who drink human energy and crave human form, who would use me as leverage to get to you.”
I looked into his eyes.
“Theo, please tell me this is some kind of elaborate wind up.”
“I can’t, Emily. I’m sorry. These threats exist. And there may be more: scientists searching for the elixir of life; powerful individuals looking to cheat death; others who would stop at nothing to possess the crystal. That’s why we must protect it at any cost.”
“At any cost,” I repeated after him. “That doesn’t sound good for me. According to what you’ve just said, you'd be better off getting rid of me.”
I looked at him wide-eyed, the enormity of the threat facing me just beginning to dawn. “It would appear I don’t stand a chance. Especially not now you’ve told me everything. At least an hour ago I still had ignorance protecting me.” I glared at him angrily. “Why have you told me all this? Now I have this knowledge, my life really could be in danger.”
He looked at me sadly. “Your life was in danger the first time I brought you back to Hartswell Hall. I should never have done it. But don’t you see? You’ve come back to me. I thought we could be together again.”
I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “For a start, I’m still having difficulty in believing all this. But just supposing it’s true…. I can see only one solution to the problem.”
I paused and bit my lip, then looked him straight in the eye and said, “I have to join you. I have to bathe in the light of the crystal and become one of you. That’s the only way we can be together.”
“No,” he cried, “it’s too risky. The crystal is too powerful and not everyone survives. And if they do, well…… It’s a blessing and a curse. Eternal youth, beauty and special powers are yours, but your whole life is governed by the crystal and the necessity to bathe in its light every Blue Moon. Should you survive the initiation, and many people don’t, how can I put that burden on you?” he broke off, looking desolate.
“Is there any other way?” I asked.
Just as I spoke, we heard the distant chimes of the church clock striking midnight.
“I must go,” he declared anxiously. Placing his hands around my face and looking deeply into my eyes, he said in a broken voice, “Emily, forgive me. I love you. I never wanted to do this to you. I only ever wanted to be with you.”
My mind reeled and a thousand thoughts crowded in at once.
“I need time to think, Theo. This is all too much to take in.”
“I must go,” he
said again, “every second I spend here puts you at greater risk. If The Lunari find out about you…”
I stopped him. “They may already know,” I said. “I’ve lost my cell phone. I think I may have dropped in at Hartswell Hall last night. I’ve looked everywhere, but I can’t find it. ”
“You could have left it there on an earlier occasion,” he said. “It doesn't prove you were at The Blue Moon Ball.”
“I’m afraid it does,” I said miserably. “I took photos of the beautiful people as they came out of the light and walked down the corridor. It’s irrefutable proof I was there and I know what is happening.”
I couldn’t mistake the panic in Theo’s eyes.
After he’d left, I spent a cold, sleepless night in the church for the second night running, once again too afraid to leave. This time I understood the threat that existed out there, and the four old stone walls of the church seemed my only sanctuary.
24. Under Threat
Kimberley Chartreuse drummed her perfectly manicured fingers impatiently on the table. She wasn't used to being kept waiting. She was the one who made people wait. Now she was sitting here in this grotty little office in a back street in Digbeth, in down town Birmingham, waiting for some slimy little nobody, who had the temerity to be late. Didn’t he know who she was? She had vaguely toyed with the idea of bringing the cameras with her. It would have made a great storyline for her reality show, but some things she knew had to remain private and, given her reasons for employing this man, this was better handled in the shadows. Pulling out her phone, she impatiently called her agent.
“Danny,” she drawled, in her flat, pseudo transatlantic tones, “I’m still waiting for this joker to turn up. If you've made a mistake, you’re fired, d’you hear me?”
He was prevented from answering by a shuffling and snuffling outside the door. Kimberley clicked off her phone and turned her head, a look of disgust flitting across her features. A middle-aged man in a brown raincoat had opened the door and was blowing his nose loudly on a handkerchief that had clearly seen better days.
“Ms Chartreuse?” he asked, in a down-at-heel, flat Brummie voice. He extended his hand. “I’m the joker you’re waiting to see.”
She made a show of refusing his hand, saying to him coldly, “Mr Nelson? You’re late. I’ve been waiting for over five minutes.”
He grinned at her cheerfully, revealing a row of black and yellow-stained teeth. “Sorry,” he said, making it quite plain he wasn't. “Bit of business to attend to.”
She noted the bottle that stuck out of his pocket, the florid cheeks and the alcohol fumes that wafted across the room. He leered at her appreciatively. “Won’t you sit down? Ah, I see you’ve already made yourself at home.”
She regarded him disdainfully. The man was a fool, a grubby, drunken idiot. She’d made a huge mistake coming here. He sat at the desk opposite her and proceeded to rummage around in a drawer.
“Mr Nelson, I really don’t…” she began, but he interrupted her.
“Aha, here it is” and pulled out a gnarled old pipe which he stuck between his teeth and proceeded to suck on with great vigour. She shuddered and looked at the wall over his head, where an old tattered picture of Columbo was pasted. He saw her glance upwards and said, “Columbo, greatest living detective. I model myself on him. Genius, pure genius.”
“Mr Nelson,” she said icily, “Columbo was a TV detective. He wasn’t real. Everyone knows that.”
“Ya don’t say?” he said in his best Columbo voice, raising one eyebrow at her. “Ya learn somethin’ new everyday.” She looked at him coldly and he sat back, eyeing her with interest.
“Mr Nelson, unless you have anything to tell me, I’m wasting my time.”
He said nothing, just carried on watching her.
Leaning forward over the desk, she whispered through clenched teeth, “I thought you had something for me.”
“All in good time,” he said, enjoying her discomfort. And he grinned at her, until she began to wonder if he was mentally deficient. Suddenly, his grin vanished and he pulled a small, torn notepad out of his pocket and carefully leafed through it.
“Aha,” he declared. “Here it is.”
“Yes?” she demanded, trying to see.
He looked up at her and grinned again. “Fee first, information second. Do you have the cash?”
“Yes, I do,” she said, patting her handbag, “but it’s ‘no information, no fee’.”
Two could play at that game. If he wanted to play hardball, he’d get it.
He regarded her for a second, then said, “Compromise. Half up front, the remainder when you’ve verified the information.”
“Deal”, she said, satisfied, reaching into her large red Jimmy Choo hand haversack and pulled out a thick brown envelope. She tossed it over the table to him. “£25k. Now, what have you got for me?”
At the sight of the money, he snapped into professional mode.
“As I understand it, you were looking to acquire trade secrets of up and coming new health and beauty products; new recipes, latest formulations, herbs, plants, vitamins, minerals, anything, I believe, to help you push back the ageing process?”
“Carry on,” she demanded.
“Oh, we have it all here. Amino acids, Alpha Hydroxy acids, Omega fatty acids, Hyaluronic acid, Glycolic acid, Beta-Glycyrrhetic acid … Green Mussel, Brown Algae, Black Cohosh, alfalfa, allantoin, horsechestnut, calendula, ginseng… Locust Bean Gum seeds, yeast extracts, Grape polyphenols, anthocyanidins, ubiquinol, pycnogenol, bisabobol, silicon … There are creams and peels, serums and scrapes, masques, milks and moisturisers, treatments, toners, cleansers, concentrates, lotions and gels …”
He paused to draw breath.
“There’s ultrasonic cavitation, micro-dermabrasion, radio frequency… mesotherapy, thermotherapy, LED light therapy… micro current therapy, 24 carat gold therapy… not forgetting Far Infra Red therapy for increasing atomic activity, and Cryolipolysis Fat Freezing, with anti-freeze to stop you getting frost bite. Jesus, do you women really go for all this stuff? They used less than this to create Frankenstein.”
He fixed her with a world-weary expression.
“Need I go on?” he asked. “There are a million different products out there, and a million more being researched, each claiming to keep you young, reduce wrinkles, tighten skin, boost collagen, plump you out, firm you up, improve pigmentation, increase density, enhance elasticity, fight ageing… nurture, nourish, soothe, oxidise, repair, replenish, support… and so on and so on and so on.”
“Is that all you’ve got for me?” she asked scornfully. “I know all this. You've told me nothing.”
“Precisely, my dear,” he said, making a revolting popping noise with his pipe. “I could have brought you any manner of new formulations from the latest laboratories in LA, claiming this, that and the other. Industrial espionage is my second name. But d’you really think it’s going to do anything for you? D’you really think a cream or a potion or a lotion is going to halt the ageing process? My dear, you are subject to the laws of physics, as are we all. There is no magical potion that’s going to stop you getting old, other than the surgeon’s knife. And that’s only superficial. Won’t stop your organs ageing.” He leered at her triumphantly.
She smashed her fist down on the table.
“Then what am I paying you for, idiot? To sit there and tell me the bleedin’ obvious? I wanted something new.”
He watched her closely with rheumy, bloodshot eyes. He might go under the guise of an idiot, but he had the survival instincts of a sewer rat and the morals of an alley cat.
“You want something new, Wendy Tubbs,” he rolled the name around on his tongue, “or should I say Kimberley Chartreuse, Queen of the Falsies?” he leered at her suggestively.
“How dare you…” she began, but he cut her short once again.
“I’ll give you something new, lady. Something so unbelievable, it’ll blow your mind, let alone stop you agei
ng.”
“Really?” she snarled at him. “I doubt that.”
“What if I told you I’d found something that would stop the ageing process altogether, give you eternal youth and beauty so you never need think about using one of these potions ever again?” He had a glint of satisfaction in his eyes.
“I probably wouldn’t believe you,” she admitted. “It sounds too good to be true.”
He smiled. “I’ve had my spies out and about, on the ground, underground, looking, listening, learning… And word has it there’s a cult of people who have found the secret of eternal youth.”
“Really,” said Kimberley in a sceptical voice. “Do you have any proof?”
Mr Nelson didn’t answer. Instead, he took a large brown envelope from his desk and opened it.
“Viyesha and Leon de Lucis,” he said, pulling out a photocopy of a yellowed old press cutting and placing it on the desk. “Tel el Amarna, Egypt, 1955.”
He placed a photocopy of a more recent press cutting next to it. “The same couple. Tel el Amarna, Egypt, 1995.”
Then he placed two colour photographs alongside the press cuttings. “Viyesha and Leon, taken a week ago in the UK.” Looking at Kimberley, he said, “Notice anything strange about these photographs, Wendy Tubbs?”
She gasped and said in a whisper, “They haven’t changed.”
The colour drained from her face and she felt a tremor of excitement in the pit of her stomach.
“Exactly,” said Mr Nelson, triumphantly.
“What more do you know about them?” she demanded.
Mr Nelson sat back and plumped out his chest. “They are wealthy hoteliers. Recently renovated a large country house in the village of Hartswell-on-the-Hill, set to open as a luxury hotel and conference centre in two weeks time. They have two children, Violet seventeen years old, and Theo two years older, plus a nephew staying with them, Joseph, early twenties.” He threw down photos of each on the desk as he spoke. “These photos were taken last week using a telephoto lens. But this picture,” he threw down a third photocopy of another old press cutting, showing a family group, “was taken twenty-five years ago.”