The Amber Pendant

by Imogen White

  “Its translation from Sanskrit is ‘Rising a Dark Star’. The words say a vessel of spiritual purity is needed to carry the risen soul,” Rui whispered. “It’s dangerous magic… No one is sure it can even work.” Rui suddenly looked very pale. “It’s…necromancy, Rose.”

  “Necro – what?” Rose breathed.

  “Necromancy…” Rui paused, his hand trembling on the page. “It means to communicate with the dead. But this spell speaks about…bringing a dark soul back to life.”

  Rose clapped her hand over her mouth. A deep chill had filled the library, despite the flames dancing in the hearth. Necro-something-or-other? Rose thought with a shudder.

  “So that’s why they’re after Mr Gupta’s journal. For the magic spell that uses the cup to bring someone dead back to life?” Rui peered back into its pages. “Umm. Mr Gupta took great care in copying the illustrations that accompany the text. You need to see this.” Rui offered the book to Rose.

  A swirling image of black smoke trailed from a glowing red cup. “It’s the same picture of the Amber Cup Mr Gupta showed us when you first got here,” Rose said, studying it closely. By holding the page at different angles she noticed strange creatures hidden in the smoke trails. All of them were distorted and mixed up together: thin arms with crooked fingers, elongated bodies and mean shiny eyes and mouths stretching into unnatural chasms, all broken and twisting within the tendrils of the smoke.

  “I think they’re C-creeplings – or bits of them.” Rose gulped, passing the book back to Rui. She couldn’t bear to look at them.

  “And beneath,” Rui continued, “it says that this spell must be performed when the planets align. Elephas Maximus!” Rui shot up.

  “What?”

  “It’s just that Mr Gupta told me something else on our voyage to England.” His hands made a steeple by his mouth as he marched backwards and forwards in front of the fire. “He told me that a mystical alignment was to occur during our stay in England, in which five of the planets would form a rare astronomical arc in the sky. At this time, the supernatural forces will be strengthened… He said that it was going to happen on the thirty-first of October… That’s tomorrow night!”

  “It’s called All Hallows’ Eve here,” Rose said with a swallow.

  “Is that good?”

  “Nah, I wouldn’t say so.”

  A memory of the workhouse came to Rose unbidden. Miss Gritt would always say: “All Hallows’ Eve is when the devil takes to horseback to steal all the naughty children.” And the housemistress always insisted the window to the dormitory be left open that night – just in case the devil wanted to stop by. Rose shivered.

  “Mr Gupta said it will mark a time when the space between this world and other worlds will be at its thinnest. This particular astronomical event is extremely rare.”

  Rose noticed that Mr Gupta’s book had fallen open on a page marked by a ribbon. It was the very last entry Mr Gupta had written.

  Rose picked it up. “Look, Rui, some of these letters are English.” She traced her fingers across the initials JB. “What does the rest of it say?” She offered him the book.

  Rui hastily buried his head in the text. Clearing his throat, he read directly from the book with gusto. “‘JB took Miss Templeforth’s pendant.’ There!” He prodded the page.

  “JB? Well, that copper said his name was Jonathan Banks; it must be him!” Rose offered, trying to keep up. “And, if we’re right about Banks being the stranger with Mr Gupta at the Pleasure Gardens, that makes sense, don’t it?”

  “Mr Gupta also writes: ‘the Brotherhood of the Black Sun mean great harm’.”

  “The Brotherhood of the Black Sun?” Rose repeated, her eyes widening. “So that’s what they call themselves.”

  Rui pressed on. “‘They intend to use the cup to raise a dead spirit’,” he read. “‘They must be stopped from getting the second pendant’.” He looked up, eyebrows arched. “I knew Mr Gupta’s intentions were honourable. He’d been carrying out his own investigation, trying to stop them!”

  Something fluttered from the pages of the open book and fell to the floor.

  “What’s that?” Rui leaned over it.

  Rose picked up a small rectangular card about the size of a matchbox. Spidery letters were scrawled across it in a rushed hand.

  “BBS?” Rose read the initials aloud. She turned the card over. The other side was matt black, with fancy gilt lettering.

  Rose caught sight of something glimmering beneath the gold lettering. “Hang on a minute, there’s something else here.” She walked to the fire and angled the card to try to get a clear look at it. An image lurked behind the writing which could only be seen if the light caught it at the right angle: a sullen face framed by the blazing spokes of a black sun.

  “It’s them all right. The rotters.”

  Rui craned behind her. “BBS is the abbreviation of the Brotherhood of the Black Sun! This must be their calling card.”

  “Rui, it’s not far off nine now,” she said, glancing through to the clock in the lobby. “That road isn’t more than half a mile away. But –” her shoulders slumped – “Enna, we said we’d wait for her here. What should we do?”

  “We must go!” Excitement flooded Rui’s face. He grabbed the last sandwich and stuffed it in his pocket. “Rose, this is our chance to uncover the identity of this secret group and get your pendant back. Enna would want us to go. If we don’t get word from her tonight, we will search for her, I promise.” He pulled on his deerstalker hat and ran from the room, clutching the journal. “I’m going to hide this somewhere safe. The Brotherhood of the Black Sun must not get their hands on it. I intend to finish the job that Mr Gupta started.” He disappeared through the door. “By the way, we need matches, rope and –” he stuck his head back around the door frame – “Rose, do you have a revolver?”

  “God’s teeth, Rui. No, I do not!” Rose threw her hands in the air.

  “No, no. Very well. So, rope, matches –” he counted the list off on his fingers and disappeared from view once more – “and, now let me see – a hatpin. Yes, a hatpin would do us very well.”

  Rose could hear him climbing the staircase. “I don’t have none of those things you’re after, except the matches maybe,” she shouted after him.

  “In that case we shall rely on our wits!” he called from the top of the stairs.

  Rose pulled on her frayed gloves. I’m the guardian, she told herself. She knew Enna would want her to go, to be brave and to do everything she could to stop this horrible Brotherhood of the Black Sun and stop Verrulf. If not, she knew all merry hell was going to break loose from the cup. She gritted her teeth. No matter what, I’m gonna get my pendant back.

  It was a dark and starless night, whipped by a biting wind. Rose linked arms with Rui. “It’s freezing.” She shivered. Leaves and rubbish flew along the pavement as they hurried towards Stitchworthy’s Tobacconist’s. Bahula clung to Rui’s warmth inside his coat.

  With a sharp rush of laughter and shouting, the door to the Albion Public House suddenly crashed open in front of them, and a man stumbled out backwards. Rose and Rui jumped to the side as he staggered past, slurring a sea shanty. Rose breathed a sigh of relief. “Stay close, you hear,” she said to Rui. “Being out at this time is no place for the likes of us. Come on.” She pulled him along with her.

  Ahead of them, the grand Town Hall loomed into the night sky like a cathedral. Its large clock face glowed moonlike from the impressive tower.

  “It’s already gone nine o’clock. It must be one of these,” Rose said, counting down the shop numbers.

  “Here it is!” Rui stopped ahead.

  The shop sign hung above them: Stitchworthy & Co, Tobacconist, est. 1907. The gold letters glinted against the black board.

  “Look!” Rose pointed to the barely visible insignia beneath the lettering – a face set within a black sun. Only noticeable from an angle, Rose observed, and if you moved a pace either side it vanished – a tric
k of the light. Just like that business card.

  Rui had noticed it too. “Strange, don’t you think? How you’d completely miss that, unless you knew to look for it.”

  Rose blew through her gloves onto her numb fingers.

  “The hornets’ nest,” Rui muttered. Bahula’s head protruded from Rui’s coat, and he gnashed his teeth.

  “Rui, someone’s in there.” A velvet curtain hung behind the window display, blocking the view into the shop. But above its rail, an internal light flickered.

  Rose edged along the shopfront, peering at the items exhibited in the window. She wasn’t really sure what was sold in a tobacconist’s beyond tobacco, but she could see silver drinking flasks, gentlemen’s pipes and snuff boxes, all arranged on a swathe of black velvet.

  “Over here, Rose. I can see in.” Rui signalled from the doorway.

  The “closed” sign was sandwiched flat behind a black roller blind that was pulled all the way down. Rui’s face pressed against the curve of the bay window in front of the display. It offered them a narrow but elevated view into the sunken interior of the shop. “They’re down there.” His breath fogged the glass.

  Men in tailored suits were gathered inside the candlelit shop.

  “They all look well-to-do, don’t they?” Rose grimaced.

  “We have the Brotherhood of the Black Sun in our sights, Rose. But we can’t hear anything from up here. We need to get closer.”

  “Closer, right.” Rose stepped a few paces backwards and peered into the shadowy alley at the side of the shop. “Oi, down ’ere,” she said, tiptoeing into the darkness of the passage. “P’raps this leads around the back.”

  Rose felt her way along the damp brickwork, which formed a crumbling archway above. Foul water dripped overhead and the place stank.

  On the other side of the passage, a wide cobbled path stretched unevenly around a tall brick wall which concealed the backyards to the shops. They followed it until Rose stopped at a black gate fixed into the wall. “This is it.” She pointed to the notice nailed there.

  TRESSPASSERS BEWARE

  THIS GATE REMAINS LOCKED AT ALL TIMES;

  TOBACCO DELIVERIES SHOULD REQUEST

  SUPERVISED ENTRY FROM THE SHOPKEEPER.

  Rose turned the handle and forced her weight as quietly as she could against the door, but it wouldn’t budge. “What now?” she whispered. Stepping back she pulled her coat closer against the wind whistling up behind them.

  In a flash, Bahula leaped on top of the wall.

  “Bahula!” Rui murmured, swiping his arms to try to catch him. “Ee ee ee,” Bahula cackled. With his short tail swinging wildly he disappeared over the other side. Almost immediately, there was a scraping noise, as the bolt was drawn back. The doorway to the yard creaked open to reveal Bahula dangling by one arm inside the open frame, grinning.

  “You clever boy, Bahula,” Rose said under her breath.

  Bahula let go of the frame and jumped onto Rui’s shoulder as he passed through the open gate. Rose gently pushed it to behind them.

  The stone yard of the tobacconist’s was strewn with wooden crates of various sizes, most of which had been prised open. One had “CHERRY TOBACCO” printed in block letters, with “GUATEMALA” emblazoned underneath.

  Rose stared up at the unwelcoming facade of the back of the shop: brown-bricked with unlit windows and cold stone steps leading to the back door. She stepped over a dead rat and shivered – the place felt evil. She poked about looking for a clue or some way of sneaking in, when a curious silhouette in the shadows caught her attention. She crept forward.

  Something narrow and tall stood shrouded beneath a thick oilcloth, just next to the backdoor steps. Rose lifted the cloth. It hid a full-length standing mirror, on a swivel frame of dark wood. She stroked the polished surface. It felt expensive – not something that would normally just be left outside.

  “Rose, down here,” Rui whispered, crouching in the shadows of the building. The cold flagstones stung her knees as she rested beside him. Rui examined a large trapdoor fixed flat into the yard floor.

  “This must lead to a cellar,” Rose said.

  “Umm.” Rui tugged the chain attached to the handles. “Bolted and padlocked.”

  “Now what? That creepy lot of no-gooders are in there with my pendant, and we’re stuck out here, with all the rats and empty boxes.”

  “Why, we break in of course.” Rui disappeared amongst the crates, lifting the discarded lids and peering inside the open boxes.

  “Break in? Using what?” She hugged her coat around her, her eyes hopping about. This whole place gave her the collywobbles.

  “Well,” Rui’s head popped up at the same time as Bahula’s, “these crates have all been forced open. One may therefore deduce that some kind of tool has been used to leverage the lids. Find that tool, and we have our key to opening those trapdoors.”

  Leaving Rui to it, Rose tiptoed up the steps to the back door and pressed her ear against it. It was silent. She squinted up at the windows to see if any were open, but they were all shut tight against the wind.

  “It is quite elementary, you know,” Rui continued, “that the majority of break-ins occur not by tools taken to the victim’s dwelling by a thief, but by items found readily available outside. Something like…THIS!” Rui reappeared holding aloft a wrench.

  Just then, a key twisted in the lock of the tobacconist’s back door. Someone’s coming. A cold fear shot through Rose. Rui and Bahula spun to face her.

  “Hide!” Rose mouthed. Rui and Bahula ducked down amongst the crates. The doorknob turned and then clicked.

  Rose jumped to the side, and hid in a narrow shadow. The door swung open. Rose’s insides clenched as someone’s shoes tip-tapped down the stone steps next to her. A man mumbled to himself.

  Rose could just see his feet, buttoned into spats and trousers, unfashionably short, exposing socks pulled high over spindly ankles.

  “Snodgrass do this, Snodgrass do that,” the man whined. “Hand out the drinks, take the coats. Get the mirror,” he huffed.

  The man threw back the cloth covering the mirror, and Rose could see through his reflection that he had a moustache so thin he might have drawn it on himself with a ruler. She leaned back into the shadows.

  Snodgrass heaved the heavy mirror onto his back with a groan as it squashed him low to the ground. He climbed back up to the shop, grunting with each step.

  “Hurry along, Snodgrass,” someone called from inside. “We haven’t got all night, man.”

  The mirror banged into the door frame. “I’m coming –” Snodgrass puffed – “Sir.” He stumbled inside, leaving the door wide open behind him.

  This is our chance. Rose tiptoed up the steps, and in a flash Rui and Bahula were by her side. They peered in. The sweet smell of tobacco oozed out along the thin corridor.

  Ahead, Snodgrass disappeared inside the room at the very end. The hum of gentlemen’s voices carried from the same direction. It led to the shop floor.

  “Wait here, Bahula,” Rui instructed. The monkey’s ears pricked up crossly.

  “Keep a lookout?” Rose suggested instead. “And stay out of sight.” Bahula leaped back into the yard and hid amongst the tobacco crates.

  Rui grinned. “We’re in,” he mouthed stepping across the threshold.

  Rose nodded, her heart drumming, as they crept into the headquarters of the Brotherhood of the Black Sun.

  A ripple of applause carried from the open doorway in front of Rose and Rui, followed by muffled chatter and cheers.

  Rose still couldn’t quite believe what they were doing. With their backs against the corridor wall, she and Rui sidled towards the sunken shop. They knew the entire Brotherhood of the Black Sun were gathered there. We must be off our rockers, she thought, her pulse racing.

  “Make room for the mirror,” a voice boomed. “Put it in the middle, Snodgrass. And careful, don’t break it, man!”

  Rose and Rui crept up to a thick crimson curtai
n bunched up on one side of the internal doorway at the end of the corridor. Rose felt an icy rush of danger.

  Before they could plan their next move, a gust of wind rattled down the corridor from the open back door and the curtain concealing them billowed.

  “Snodgrass, where’s that breeze coming from?” someone barked. “You’ve left the back door open, you fool. Close it at once.”

  He’s going to find us! Rose’s heart jumped into her mouth.

  Her eyes darted every which way. Knowing they didn’t have time to escape, Rui pulled Rose behind the heavy curtain just in time. They pinned themselves against the wall inside the shop, hidden by the drape. Snodgrass scurried by.

  “That was close,” Rose mouthed, trying to steady herself. The back door slammed shut and Snodgrass’s footsteps returned. He paused in front of the curtain and Rose held her breath, squeezing Rui’s hand.

  Without a hint of suspicion, Snodgrass whipped the curtain across the rail, blocking their view into the shop. Rose stumbled into Rui as they tiptoed behind it.

  Muttering to himself, Snodgrass picked his way back down the steps that led to the shop floor.

  “Tremendous!” Rui mouthed back to Rose.

  The thick curtain smelled musty, and pinpricks of light shone through its moth holes. Rui inched open a slit at one end and peered through. Satisfied it was safe, he shuffled over to make enough room for Rose to see too.

  A dim central light hung over the strange mirror; the only other light came from the candles flickering in the dark corners. Shadows danced across the faces of the men, who chattered nervously to one another.

  Whoever these men were, it was clear they weren’t born with money. They had acquired it, and recently. New money, Rose thought, judging by the oversized cashmere coats, gaudy high-collared shirts and the whiff of spiced cologne that hung in the air.

  No light penetrated behind the curtain and Rose felt certain they could not be seen, although in truth, she would have felt safer dangling on a threadbare rope with a bunch of hungry lions snapping at her heels.