Necropolis

by Wendy Saunders

  ‘American,’ he remarked.

  Elias nodded as Mr Hadley glanced over his shoulder to the clerk hovering by the door.

  ‘Henry, fetch Mr Mason.’

  Henry nodded his head and scurried back out of the door.

  Mr Hadley placed the paper slowly on the desk in front of him and folded his hands neatly, his spindly fingers entwining.

  ‘You are interested in a listing from the green ledger I’m told?’

  ‘I am,’ Elias confirmed.

  Mr Hadley stared, his thin colorless lips pursed speculatively, his eyes narrowed.

  ‘Mr Mason deals with the green ledger; he will be here directly.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr…’ before Elias could finish his sentence the door swung open, banging loudly, and a large jovial man entered.

  His eyes were bright and his hair so thick and curly, that although he’d attempted to oil and wrestle it into a neat side parting, it bloomed in thick waves either side, giving his head a very odd shape.

  His moustache was as thick and bushy as his hair. Parted in the center of his top lip and pinched in with oil at the tips, it looked as if he had a rather comical pair of bird’s wings perched atop his lip.

  He briskly crossed the room and grasped Elias’s hand pumping it enthusiastically before giving it a firm tug, pulling Elias slightly off balance and bringing his face inches away from his own. The jolly fat man scrutinized Elias’s face for a moment.

  ‘Witch is it?’ he remarked.

  ‘So I’m told,’ Elias mumbled.

  ‘Heh heh,’ he chuckled. ‘Don’t seem too happy about it, do you? Mr?’

  ‘Elias Black.’

  ‘Xavier Mason,’ he replied easily as he released Elias’s hand. ‘I take it you’ve met Charlton.’ He indicated over his shoulder to Mr Hadley who watched the exchange with just a hint of disapproval.

  Whether he disapproved of Mr Mason, or himself, or a mixture of both, Elias wasn’t entirely certain, but in his slightly hungover and discomforted state, he found himself immensely grateful to be dealing with Mr Mason and not Hadley.

  ‘Don’t mind that old stick in the mud,’ Mr Mason guffawed. ‘He’s so stiff, sometimes I think we could snap him in two and use him for firewood.’

  ‘Mr Black would like to see the listings from the green ledger,’ Mr Hadley replied coolly.

  ‘Well of course he would,’ Mr Mason answered, heading back toward the door. ‘Come on lad, you look as if you could use a good strong cup of tea,’ he watched as Elias turned to follow him. ‘Do Americans drink tea?’

  ‘Yes, we do,’ Elias nodded.

  ‘Splendid,’ Mr Mason beamed, ‘just splendid.’

  Mr Mason swept out of the room with Elias following along in his wake, slightly bemused. They crossed the main room and in through a door almost identical to Mr Hadley’s. Likewise, once they stepped into the office beyond the door Elias could’ve sworn the office was exactly the same as Mr Hadley’s, practically a mirror image.

  ‘This is just for show,’ Mr Mason chuckled as he closed the door behind him.

  He crossed the room, producing an ornate brass key from his waistcoat pocket, stopping in front of the far wall, the lower half of which was paneled in walnut and the top papered in a deep maroon silk paper. Mounted on the wall was a framed painting of a suckling roast hog resting on a silver platter surrounded by parsnips and carrots, and with an apple in its mouth. A strange choice of art, Elias thought to himself.

  Mr Mason reached up and slid the painting slightly off kilter, revealing a small keyhole beneath it. He slid the brass key in and turned it with an audible well-oiled click. A long, vertical split appeared in the wall which, Elias realized, was a concealed door.

  ‘After you,’ Mr Mason stepped back allowing Elias to enter.

  The room was a fair size, bigger than either Mr Hadley’s office, or Mr Mason’s fake one. A cheerfully burning fireplace dominated one side of the room and a large window the other.

  In front of the fireplace were two deeply cushioned wing back chairs with a small round walnut table between them, upon which, curiously enough, was a steaming pot of tea, teacups, a bowl of sugar and a plate of rich, fluffy looking scones. The aroma of which made his mouth water and his stomach growl loudly.

  ‘There’s a lad,’ Mr Mason slapped him heartily on the back, almost sending him careening onto the Aubusson rug. ‘Don’t trust anyone without a descent appetite. Hadley barely eats enough to keep a kitten alive; no wonder he’s so miserable all the time… take a seat.’

  Elias crossed the room and sank down gratefully onto one of the chairs, the warmth from the fire seeping into his chilled bones.

  Mr Mason plopped himself down into the other chair and reached for the tea. As he served, Elias took the opportunity to study the rest of the room.

  In the corner of the room stood a small desk and chair, piled high with papers and parchments, quills and ink wells, rather like the clerks’ desks out in the main office, although this desk remained empty.

  Across the room in front of the large window stood a huge heavy desk in deep glossy mahogany and topped with black leather. The desk, despite its size, was completely empty but for one item, a thick green, leather bound ledger.

  ‘Scone?’ Mr Mason held out the teacup for Elias to take.

  ‘Thank you, that’s very kind,’ Elias replied as Mr Mason served him one of the delicious mouth-watering confections.

  ‘There’s butter and jam,’ he nodded toward a pot of deep red colored jam with a teaspoon sitting in it, which sat beside a dish of rich yellow butter. ‘Now then,’ Mr Mason clapped his hands together and rubbed them eagerly, ‘we’d better get started. There are a few addendums to cover first.’

  ‘Such as?’

  Elias watched as the portly man rose from his seat and ambled across the room, retrieving a parchment, ink and quill from the smaller desk. Elias, having taken a heavenly bite of the scone and currently enjoying the feeling of it melting on his tongue, set his plate down and dusted off his hands, before taking the parchment Mr Mason offered him.

  ‘A contract?’ Elias’s eyes scanned down the contents quickly.

  ‘A standard, magically binding contract between you and myself.’ He lifted his own cup of tea and took a long gulp. ‘It’s for your protection as well as mine,’ he explained. ‘In order for me to best serve your needs, you will have to impart to me certain, and sometimes personal, information. Likewise, you will be privy to exactly what I do here and what I offer. This contract makes it impossible for either of us to disclose details of this meeting to anyone outside these four walls.’

  ‘I see,’ Elias muttered as he stared at the paper.

  ‘It is your choice Mr Black. In order to proceed you will need to sign. If you do not wish to, feel free to enjoy your tea and scone, but then I’m afraid I shall have to send you on your way.’

  Elias pursed his lips thoughtfully before reaching for the quill. Dipping it into the ink well he scratched his name across the bottom and handed it to Mr Mason, who smiled expansively and took the quill, signing his own name alongside Elias’s.

  ‘Excellent,’ he placed the parchment down. ‘Now, while you finish your tea, I’ll tell you a little about myself and what it is I do here. As I said before you are now bound by a magical contract and are not able to speak of anything you learn here. Understood?’

  Elias nodded as he picked up his scone and ravenously tucked into the warm buttery goodness.

  ‘My name is Xavier Mason; I was born and bred in the Underside. I have a smaller exclusive office there, in Green Friars Lane, although currently most of my time is spent here in Cheapside. Mr Hadley deals with the more mundane side of the business, whereas I deal exclusively with the magical community. I am completely impartial and not affiliated with any group or society. I procure protected and warded properties for my clients, along with trusted servants. All of my business is solely from recommendations and is not common knowledge. Hadley knows what it is
I do and as you may have gathered is not altogether favorable, but it is a working relationship of mutual benefit. I get his respectability and he gets my coin. He may not approve of the magical community, but my business has made him a very wealthy man, albeit a very miserly one.’

  Elias placed his empty plate on the table and picked up his tea as he listened in interest.

  ‘I assume you are looking for a property?’ Mr Mason asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Elias sipped his tea, ‘something very secure.’

  He glanced down at Mr Mason’s wrists which were covered by his sleeves, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by the man, who unbuttoned his sleeves and pulled them back, lifting his arms so Elias could see his unmarked skin.

  ‘As I said,’ Mr Mason replied knowingly, ‘I am not affiliated with any society.’

  ‘You know about the Veritas then?’ Elias’s mouth tightened.

  ‘Where do you think most of my business comes from?’ he huffed slightly in distain. ‘People who are trying to hide from them. Filthy scavengers… anyone who has lived or spent time in the Underside know of the Veritas. We all try to stay out of their sights as much as possible. Why do you think I insist on a magically binding contract? If they found out what I do...’

  ‘How do you know I’m not Veritas?’

  ‘I’m not without gifts of my own,’ Mr Mason smiled. ‘Believe me, I can tell who is Veritas and who isn’t. How do you think I’ve stayed ahead of them for so long? Now to business,’ he mused. ‘If you are already of interest to them, you are going to need much more than the standard protective spells and wards. It’s going to cost a pretty penny I’m afraid, I hope you have deep pockets my friend.’

  ‘I have more than enough,’ Elias replied. ‘I will not be living alone for the time being and it is imperative to me that my houseguests are safe.’

  ‘Very well,’ Mr Mason scratched his chin.

  He stood and crossed the room, seating himself comfortably behind the huge desk. Reaching out, he opened up the green ledger and a burst of papers exploded out of it, rising into the air and slowly fluttering down to the desk. Mason, seemingly undisturbed by the sudden violent explosion of paperwork merely began to lift pieces of paper at random, shifting through sheets of it. Some he lifted and considered before setting down again, some, with a mutter, he flat out dismissed.

  ‘AH!’ he finally lifted a piece of paper, ‘this is the one.’

  He handed the paper to Elias who was now standing at the other side of the desk.

  ‘Number 3 Primrose Avenue, located within the borders of the Underside,’ Mr Mason said with determination. ‘A very pretty townhouse, with three floors, all the modern conveniences, a bathroom with flushing toilet and a bath with running hot water as well as a foot bath. Gas lighting throughout, as well as fireplaces in each room. Now, the house comes with standard warding, against ghosts, spirits, bad luck, unwanted visitors, curses, that sort of thing, but you are going to require something much stronger. You said you are going to have houseguests? It would be helpful to have some details as to what they are in order to make sure the correct spell work is in place. Not only something that will protect them but that won’t inadvertently harm them. As a witch, you’ll be fine, but I will need to know about the others.’

  Elias frowned, his mouth tightening. He was taking a big risk revealing these details but what choice did he have? He needed someplace safe for them to stay.

  ‘Mr Black,’ Mr Mason said kindly, ‘I know it is difficult, particularly as you want to protect your friends, but I assure you, whatever you tell me in this room is completely confidential.’

  ‘One is a Witch,’ he sucked in a deep breath, not entirely sure he was doing the right thing, ‘one is…an Angel and one is….’ This was the one that gave him great pause. He knew Scarlett and Olivia were more than capable of looking after themselves but Eve… there was something about her, something he couldn’t explain that twisted him up inside. Scarlett was adamant no one know what Eve was, but if it was going to help keep her safe... he shook his head, ‘she’s a Siren.’

  Mr Mason’s eyes widened until they were almost as big as dinner plates. He sank back in his chair blinking owlishly at Elias, looking slightly dazed.

  ‘An Angel… and a Siren?’ he breathed. ‘My goodness Mr Black, you do keep some illustrious company.’

  ‘Mr Mason,’ Elias leaned forward planting his palms on the scattered pieces of paper now littering the once pristine desk. ‘I truly appreciate your hospitality and generosity, but I feel I should warn you. If you breathe one single word of what I have just told you to anyone… I will kill you.’

  ‘I have no doubt,’ Mr Mason muttered. ‘Needless to say, you have my word, nothing of this conversation will pass my lips.’

  Elias stared at him, his dark eyes blazing as he gauged the other man’s sincerity. Finally, he nodded and straightened.

  ‘Please take a seat,’ Mr Mason nodded to the opposite side of the desk, where a claw footed chair sat.

  Elias sat as he watched Mr Mason pull out a blank piece of parchment and pick up a quill, dipping it in an ink well that he could have sworn had not been on the table a moment ago.

  ‘Right,’ Mr Mason scratched his chin with the feathered end of the quill, his eyes glittering. ‘An Angel and a Siren, this is indeed a first for me and I do so enjoy a challenge. You already have the standard warding, I suggest we add to that, magical creatures, supernatural creatures, persons of ill intent…’ he continued to mutter to himself, scribbling furiously on the parchment. After a while he looked up, ‘will you be furnishing the property yourself?’

  ‘I’ve been traveling for some time,’ Elias replied, ‘I do not have a stick of furniture to my name.’

  ‘Very well,’ Mr Mason nodded, ‘I shall have it furnished on your behalf. Do you require a mortgage?’

  ‘No,’ Elias shook his head, ‘I’ll settle the accounts now.’

  Mr Mason continued to scribble on his list.

  ‘Now as to the question of servants.’

  ‘I don’t need servants,’ Elias frowned.

  ‘Trust me you do,’ Mr Mason replied firmly, ‘and standard servants just won’t do. You will need the Guild.’

  ‘The Guild?’ he repeated.

  ‘Hmm,’ Mr Mason scratched his chin again, ‘you’ll be wanting a housekeeper, a cook, a maid and possibly a butler.’

  ‘Who are the Guild?’ Elias asked.

  ‘They procure servants for those who require great loyalty and a certain amount of discretion. The servants assigned to you will each be required to sign a magically binding contract, just as we did. They will be absolutely loyal to you and those in your household, until you decide to break the contract or for perpetuity, whichever comes first.’

  ‘Why would they agree to that?’ he frowned, ‘it sounds like slavery.’

  ‘Far from it my friend,’ Mr Mason shook his head and explained. ‘In return for their service and unwavering loyalty and discretion, you must in turn agree to treat them fairly and well. They will be your responsibility; you mustn’t mistreat them in anyway. Trust me, you do not want to get on the wrong side of the Guild. If they come looking for you, I can assure you you’ll wish the Veritas got to you first.’

  ‘Very well,’ Elias agreed.

  Elias sat patiently while Mr Mason continued to scribble away, his eyes wandering back to the plate piled with plump fragrant scones and he wondered if it would be considered rude if he helped himself to another.

  ‘Right,’ Mr Mason finished writing, did a few quick calculations and wrote a figure down. ‘I think that covers everything.’

  He handed the paper to Elias and he scanned down the list to the bottom. When he saw the final figure, his stomach clenched and at that moment he was grateful he hadn’t had the second scone.

  He could cover the sum easily enough, but it would severely deplete his savings. He would have to find another way of earning money and soon. He nodded his agreement to Mr Mason.


  ‘Excellent, I will have the contract drawn up directly,’ he responded with a pleased smile. ‘The property will be ready for you at two this afternoon. I will meet you there personally to hand over the keys and have you sign the final contract rather than send one of the runners. I think, given what you have told me of your houseguests that it would be best to keep this just between you and I.’

  ‘I appreciate that Mr Mason,’ Elias stood and shook his hand over the desk.

  ‘You may as well call me Xavier,’ he told him. ‘I have a feeling this won’t be the last time you and I do business.’

  Elias nodded and turned to leave but as he did, his gaze dropped to a piece of paper that had fluttered to the floor. Snagging his interest, he reached down and picked it up.

  It was an illustration of a ship, entitled White’s Shipping Co. Below the picture, stamped in bold print, were the words FOR SALE.

  ‘What’s this?’ Elias asked as his gaze was drawn back to the illustration of the ship.

  Xavier leaned over the desk to see what he was looking at.

  ‘Oh, wait a minute,’ he rifled through the scattered papers on the desk and came up with a photograph of the same ship which he handed to Elias. ‘White’s Shipping Company, its main offices are still located down on the docks. It was a good, solid business while Mr White was in charge. Poor bastard died of scarlet fever and his son took over the business. The boy is a notorious scapegrace; spent all of the money carousing with his friends, drinking and gambling amongst other things. All but drained the business dry. He’s sold off all the other ships in the fleet, that’s the only one left and no one will buy it.’

  ‘Why?’ Elias asked curiously as he studied the photograph.

  ‘Let’s just say that one comes with a rather disconcerting history and people have an alarming tendency to die on board that ship.’

  ‘Cursed?’

  ‘Haunted I believe. They tried to scuttle her off the coast of Ireland and claim the insurance money, but the damn thing wouldn’t sink.’ Xavier replied with a sigh. ‘Shame, she’s a beauty, isn’t she? Clipper class, fastest one ever built. She can do twenty-five knots; the fastest American vessels can only do twenty-two. She used to run tea from China, amongst other things.’