by S E Holmes
“Everything you do from this point forward will be hazardous and I do not think further training will better equip you. You are the Last Keeper. The abilities you were born with will make themselves plain when the need arises. The only one standing in the Crone’s way, Winsome, is you. If not you, then no one. You must find a way.”
“Tell me how!”
She shook her head. “I do not know. The witch cannot die while the Stone exists. And the Stone is indestructible on Earth.”
“That seems pretty infallible to me.”
“Ask Enoch. And Winsome, heed this warning well. The next weeks will be extremely confusing and discomforting as you adjust. Stay close to your guardians. They will ease you through the process. The Delta pathway can provide solace, but you must resist the temptation to gain respite by coming here. It is an addiction easily fostered. Persistence in the real world is the ideal, as it will encourage your tolerance and hone your skills. You will understand better about what I am saying when you leave this haven.”
I scrambled around for better, more practical questions and came up empty. At least I was prepared for confusion; it had been my enduring state since arriving home from boarding school. The husk of a woman before me took on a faraway expression, like the benevolent saints in religious manuscripts.
“I believe my time approaches.” Raphaela became still, her mouth hardly moving. “It is imperative you complete the set of the lost articles before the Crone reaches you, Winsome. The Sacred Trinity faces the unique challenge of preventing the witch from hunting you, while you must eventually hunt her. Destroy our records. Burn the ancestral map, so if by chance your hideout is found, no information remains. Protect your identity. It is your final shield.”
Her voice began to fade and she lost substance, eyelids slipping closed. “And remember, you can only run so far and hide for so long. This time, she will find you. Guard against the Keepers’ most insidious enemy: growing tired of this world and its unworthy inhabitants. Find reason to fight no matter how grave the circumstances and you shall triumph, Winnie. Please tell Seth he was the best thing in all my long years.”
She was barely audible. “And Maya. Find her. Keep her with you. Tell her she gave me a reason to live.” Her body broke into shards of light, briefly rendered youthful, unmarred by any burden.
Too soon!
“How do I fight her? Please!” I whispered, afraid to know. “What do the articles do?”
“Ask … Enoch.” I heard the faintest echo of her reply in my mind.
Raphaela’s influence ended, her form a column of sparkling motes that danced apart and spiralled upwards. As the glowing nebula dispersed about her statue, the blank face transformed into her likeness and a duplicate of the diary came to rest in her chiselled hands, her answers trapped forever in remote marble.
The single repository of hope I had was gone, abandoning me alone in a monument filled with dead ancestors. Their voices were silent. And I didn’t feel any the wiser or better able to deal with what was inevitably coming for me.
Eighteen
A sharp rap on his shoulderblade woke Hud, fully clothed, belly down, his cheek sticky with his own spit on the pillow. The jab came again, only harder. He rolled over on his bed and raised his hands to fend off further assault.
“Hey!”
Hugo towered over him in the early evening light, his face sterner than usual based on the history Winnie had shown him. “Get up. You have ten minutes to pack essential items. Bring anything irreplaceable. No clothes or stuffed toys. We will supply you with new possessions.”
“What?” Hud asked blearily, barely catching up with the weird events of the day.
“We have no time for your idiocy!”
A gargantuan hand gripped a fistful of his t-shirt, and Hud was wrenched vertical in a split second. He struggled to get his bearings. They were in his box-lined room in the attic of Andie’s terrace, so newly ensconced he hadn’t unpacked.
“Put me down.”
Instead, Hugo lofted him higher, their eyes level. The flimsy fabric pleated under Hud’s arms and his toes skimmed the ground. The bastard would ruin his favourite shirt. It had a picture of a chimp on it, the likeness to his mother’s new boyfriend remarkable.
“You think this is a silly little game?”
“How would they find us here?” Hud spluttered. “They don’t even know my name.”
Hugo grinned, far scarier than his scowl. “Forgive me. That tiny brain of yours is clearly incapable of understanding your predicament. Allow me to enlighten you.”
Hud asserted through teeth, “Put me down first!”
Hugo shook his head and propelled him to the bed. “You are impulsive and plucky, but you lack the fear to temper such qualities. Time for a healthy dose. Daniel,” he called.
Before Hud could blink, a guy materialised with a hoodie pulled low over his face so that only his lips were visible. His wintry attire was at odds with the blistering weather, the day’s heat lingering as the sun dawdled to the horizon.
“What do you want, Hugo? The other two have much to bring.” Daniel’s voice was cultured with a faint accent, difficult to define.
“This is the dick I was telling you about. The reason for the extraordinary measures.”
“Ahh, our film star.” Daniel threw off his hood, lashing out to grab Hud’s throat faster than a cobra strike. “The twins are not Bloods. They are uninterested in infiltration or conscription to the cause. Their job is—”
“Negotiation,” Hud garbled. “I know. You’re choking me!”
Hugo burst out in riotous laughter. “Is that what they’re calling it?”
Daniel didn’t relinquish his hold. He closed his eyes and rasped strange words that roiled and whispered inside Hud’s skull. Pitch blotches congealed over every surface of his room. The dense shadows were somehow slimy, their arrival heralded by an eerie rattle. They moved restively, jellyfish tendrils probing in search of a target. Hud’s eyes bulged in their sockets, more fearful of the horrid smears than of his impending suffocation. Tentacles of black rippled towards him across the ceiling and slid up the side of his bed.
“Okay,” he gurgled, frantic with fear. “Stop!”
“These are Anathema’s true hunters. We call them the ‘seethers’ and they have returned with the coming of their Mistress. If they invade your body through any orifice, your worst imaginings and most dread pain awaken. Once they have touched you there is no escape and you are theirs forever at the whim of their controller. Distance is no obstacle. They can track you to the ends of the earth. Relentless, hungry, devouring. They need only the slightest scent. You probably left plenty behind on the twins’ skin.”
Daniel pulled Hud close and sniffed his neck noisily like some hideous zombie on the prowl for brains, as if he needed a more potent demonstration. The guy was seriously disturbed. Hud fought and thrashed, edging as far as possible from the nearing blight, weakening through lack of oxygen. Abruptly, Daniel released him to slump onto the mattress, gasping and trembling. And then he was gone, taking the black worm-things with him.
“If you falter again we will leave you to the seethers in order to protect the Trinity. You have proven a risk we can ill afford. For future reference, never, ever touch a member of Anathema. Now, pack.”
Hud tried to swallow, his limbs shaky and his head pounding. “Can they make me spill the beans?” he croaked, massaging his burning throat.
“Only about your friends, your family. The Claiming Ritual imposes a vow of silence regarding the identity of the Keeper and her inner circle. Do not force me to take more extreme measures.”
There were more extreme measures? Not willing to provoke Hugo further, Hud got up and began to rifle drawers and toss indiscriminate items into a bag, pausing only to ensure he collected everything to do with his research. He manoeuvred awkwardly around the surly giant in the middle of the rug, teeth on edge, resentment building.
“This would be easier without you
in the road,” Hud said.
“You have earned the need for a babysitter.”
He found it impossible to believe that Vee or Bear would approve of his treatment and intended to complain enthusiastically the first chance he got. Sure, those seether things were horrifying and he hoped never to encounter them for real, but this was all so difficult to get his head around. He didn’t quite believe any of it. He grabbed his favourite lucky hat and crammed it on, fuming.
“What is that?”
“It’s a hat. What does it look like?”
Hugo whipped it off in a blink, hurling it to the floor. He extracted a small pistol, tamped a pillow over the muzzle and shot the trilby several times, the bangs muffled by feathers, which spurted like a volcanic eruption. The hat bounced about, grasshopper-style. The smell of lit matches filled the air, the shredded remains of his pillow-slip joining a flurry of goose down. Hud gawked, rooted to the spot. Who were these people? The lunatic shot his hat!
“No mobiles or other electronic equipment that can reveal your location.”
“You shot my hat!”
“If that’s what you call it. I said no clothes. Strip when you’re done, get in the shower and wash yourself thoroughly with this.” He tossed over a bottle filled with red liquid, and a plastic-wrapped paper suit complete with booties.
“Are you sure we’re on the same team?” Hud grumbled.
“Put that on when you’re done.” Hugo squatted and levered the bullets from floorboards with a hunting knife, pocketing them and turning for the door. “I’ll be in the garage waiting. You have ten minutes. Do not make me come back for you. I have much larger guns.” He left the room, his voice echoing back. “I prefer my team without liabilities. Remember that.”
Alone, Hud mournfully gathered his pitiful hole-riddled hat. He stuck his fingers through and wiggled. Funnily, this more than anything brought the seriousness of his situation to bleak awareness. His life was altered in ways he couldn’t begin to fathom, not even at liberty to wear his hat. He wondered if he’d ever see Borneo again, the insight startling him to action.
There were only two things he counted as irreplaceable. Where had he put them? After several frenetic attempts, he located the precious packets of seeds in his foot locker at the end of his bed and the vials of extracted compounds in their moulded container. Hugo could threaten him with Barry Manilow songs for hours, but he was not leaving without these links to Hudson’s Orchid.
After adhering to the instructions, Hud hurtled down two flights, his backpack crunching paper with each bump. He looked like an asbestos removalist, the cap soaked by his sodden hair. He made his way through the combined kitchen and lounge room, stealing a moment to say goodbye. Despite Andie’s Indian-themed decorating in exotic pink, orange and gold, tubs of floating lotus blossoms, candles, and oversized cushions instead of a proper settee, he felt a strong attachment to this place.
Sure, it was like occupying a liquorice allsort, he had a permanent kink in his back from sitting cross-legged on the floor, and the incense irritated his sinuses. But it was a marked improvement on the ferret’s lair he used to share with Bickles, before his mate moved in here six months ago. Hud had been touched by their generosity when his mother cut off his allowance and he could no longer afford the rent on his own.
They’d welcomed Hud as part of their little family, and although he had to put up with a lot of hassling, nagging about cleanliness and geeky technical mumbo-jumbo, he belonged here more than anywhere else. He couldn’t guess when they’d return, and it was all his fault Andie and Bickles had temporarily lost their home. If he hadn’t been so obstinate, they’d probably be sitting around dissecting the insanity over fruit smoothies. On second thoughts, the beverage would definitely need to be something stronger.
“Move it,” Hugo yelled through the laundry.
He hurried out to the attached garage and hopped into a large white van with no windows. Hugo sat behind the wheel, Daniel next to him. Hud glanced at Andie as he took his seat in back. She and Bickles were side by side, pallid and miserable in their sperm suits, masses of their equipment crammed in every available gap. The cabin smelled heavily of the cloying perfume from the temple. Daniel swivelled to address her, his tone sympathetic.
“Are you comprehensively insured?”
She nodded tremulously, eyes brimming. Hud had clearly missed something. Daniel took on a glazed expression, flames erupting in his cornflower irises, creepier than anything seen thus far. Hud took it back, he didn’t covet any of these supernatural shenanigans. He just wanted his normal old life the way it was. Daniel clicked his fingers and a buzzing crackle gained volume. Blue sparks jumped from the fuse box on the adjacent wall, fire creeping to hug the ceiling.
“Your house will burn in an electrical blaze. Unfortunately, the gas flashback arrestor will fail, resulting in a large explosion. It will engulf the entirety of your property and parts of those surrounding. No one will be hurt, but the damage will be extensive. Nothing will remain. Shut the door.”
His mouth agape, Hud obeyed and slid the panel closed. Andie wept quietly, while Bickles stroked her hair and attempted to find words of comfort. Hud knew what it meant for Andie to finally gain independence from her clinging parents; she’d lost more than the material this day and he was solely to blame.
“Oh, Andie. I am so, so sorry.” It was lame and inadequate. He was lower than a gnome’s jockstrap and he swore to make it up to them if it was the last thing he ever did.
“None of us knows what we’re doing. This is a hard lesson to learn.” She offered a feeble smile that made him feel infinitely worse. “Bet we’ll not forget it.”
She was right, of course. From now on he’d do whatever they asked, no questions. “At least Hugo didn’t shoot your hat.”
She hiccoughed a giggle through tears, blew her nose on a tissue from Bickles and straightened in her seat. It was another thing Hud loved about them. They might be nerds with a capital ‘N’, but they were tough. The van backed out into twilight, all of them craning for a fading view of their home out the tinted rear window. A dribble of smoke spiralled into the sky. Cicadas screeched and rosellas squabbled noisily in banksias lining the quiet suburban street.
“According to the flight register, Jay Hudson left for Borneo earlier this afternoon. The university approved a three-month research grant,” Hugo said.
“Did you run that past my mum?”
“In actual fact, Astrid and her boyfriend, Bernard, recently boarded a plane for an extended trip around Central America.”
“Nice of them to let me know,” Hud said.
He almost broke into hysteria thinking about that safety-obsessed pansy, Bernard, in the rough and tumble of Mexico City. His fair skin burned on exposure to a light bulb, he only ate white food, he considered a trip to the park an allergy nightmare, and his idea of fun was an Accountancy convention. It couldn’t have been his idea voluntarily. They must have compelled him somehow. Hud knew his mother was overcompensating in her search for security.
Andie lurched forward, gripping the front seat. “Are our families at risk?”
“Not yours at this stage. We shall monitor the situation and intervene, if necessary.”
Bickles snorted. “Yeah, well best of luck to them if they attempt to go up against my brothers. Braithe, Wyatt and Jethro aren’t famous for their passive natures.”
Hud had to agree. Bickles was the youngest of four boys, the rest construction workers whose physiques rivalled Hugo’s. It was almost as if someone had dropped Bickles into their midst from another genetic set entirely. He’d inherited their collective grey-matter. They got his brawn. But when his parents died in a plane crash, they’d worked themselves into the ground to send their little brother to the best schools, sometimes triple shifts. They may not understand a thing Bickles said, but they were proud and protective of their genius sibling.
“My parents will accept nothing less than my documented abduction by Martians,” A
ndie spoke up, slightly hysterical. “Especially now my house has evidently blown up. And my grandma has a network of spies to embarrass the CIA.”
“Do you have access to cameras?” Daniel asked.
Andie squinted in thought. “I’ll need to go back to the lab. We can get equipment installed wherever you want it.”
“Umm, is this all really necessary?” Bickles had the balls to ask.
“Pull over.”
Hugo responded immediately to Daniel’s order and they idled in the gutter in front of a bungalow, its windows unlit and occupants absent. Hud mused the owners were probably at the local Chinese takeaway, doing nice normal things such as picking up dinner, instead of trapped in a van with two pyromaniac psychopaths. Psychopath One pushed back his hood and stared them down. It was easy for Hud to see how this guy could talk anybody into anything, the words ‘suave’, ‘charismatic’ and ‘good looking’ inadequate descriptors.
“Had your foolish friend complied and left Spencer’s building as requested, perhaps this may have been avoided. But even a slight skirmish with Anathema, let alone with Riven and Rebel, is contamination enough. What you did …” Incredulity was written large on Daniel’s face and Hud squirmed under the scrutiny. “The profound stupidity of it, your lack of fear, and your last-minute escape into thin air. You have alerted them on an unprecedented basis and offered Trinity heads on a platter. No normal mortal slips from their grasp.”
Technically, he wasn’t responsible for the escape into thin air. The rest of it though, was indisputably his doing. He almost suffocated on the shame.
“They hunt you now, Jay Hudson. And we must spread thin to manage another onslaught in addition to the Spencers. Whatever extreme measures we take may not prove vaguely adequate to stop Anathema descending in locust proportion.” He turned back and nodded for Hugo to drive on.
“I told Bea it was unwise to stay in Sydney,” Hugo said, emphasising the point by swearing under his breath. “These complications weaken our position and encourage leaks. We should be underground, not cavorting around in public.”