The Nest of Nessies (Penny White Book 6)

by Chrys Cymri

  ‘Let them plough up unicorn land,’ Raven said dismissively. ‘I would shed no tears over that.’

  ‘But it wouldn’t stop with just a few acres of meadow,’ I replied. ‘Your country is still full of natural resources. And you might be willing to defend Lloegyr with flame and teeth and claws, but I’m not certain that would be enough against fighter jets and tanks.’

  Raven drew himself up to his full height. ‘I find it hard to believe that you humans could be that dangerous.’

  ‘The most dangerous animal on our planet,’ I said. ‘And by far the most destructive.’

  I patted his shoulder and walked away. The ground was still damp under the trees, and I picked my way with care. Several dogs barked as Raven flew away, to the irritation of their owners. I made my way up the slight rise to my vicarage, desperate for a cup of tea. It was only as I walked down my drive that I realised, to my annoyance, that I should have asked Raven if he knew anything about the funeral customs of merpeople.

  A bright yellow BMW was parked on the road near the house, which told me that James was home. Skylar’s VW Beetle was nowhere to be seen. I glanced at my wristwatch. Where was she at 7pm? Then I remembered that she was taking a service of Evensong at the town centre church.

  I dumped my boots just inside the front door and padded down the hall to the kitchen. James was sitting at the table, typing away at his MacBook. A mug rested at his right. ‘Fresh pot,’ he told me without looking up from his screen.

  ‘Thanks.’ I helped myself to tea and wandered over to the windows. Clyde was perched on the wooden bench, his body rotating through various colours as he spoke to the other snail sharks gathered below. I wondered if he were delivering his own equivalent of Evensong. My inability to understand his native language was always annoying. ‘Where’s Jago?’

  ‘Off with Morey and Taryn. They’ve gone hunting.’ James raised his head and gave me a grin. ‘I think they’re hoping to talk him out of becoming a vegetarian.’

  ‘I do wonder if a gryphon can live without consuming meat.’

  ‘A lot of kids experiment when they’re young,’ James said. ‘Didn’t I go vegan for a couple of months?’

  ‘When you were eight. But you only did it to try my patience.’ I took a seat at the table. ‘James, I need to tell you something.’

  He closed the laptop. ‘Okay. What’ve I done now?’

  ‘Nothing. It’s not about you.’ I took a deep breath. ‘The wedding’s off. Peter and I have called off our engagement.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  I had to admire my mother’s firm and thorough training. It held in the most trying of circumstances. ‘We decided it wouldn’t work, so we broke up. Earlier today.’

  ‘But you two are so great together.’ James swept his brown hair back with a shaking hand. ‘I mean, all that Doctor Who stuff, and looking after the weak, and the way you support each other. It’s made me want something like what you’ve got. And now you’re telling me it’s over? Why? What happened?’

  ‘We both wanted different things.’ The conversation was still raw in my mind. ‘Peter wants children. And I don’t.’

  James dropped his head. ‘It’s all my fault, isn’t it? Raising me was so bad that you and Alan decided not to have kids. And how it’s made you break up with Peter.’

  ‘James Alfred White, not everything on this planet revolves around you,’ I said irritably. ‘Alan loved you, but he didn’t want any more children, and I was happy with just the three of us. Maybe if Peter and I had met when we were younger, I’d feel differently. But I don’t want children now, not at the ripe old age of thirty-seven.’

  ‘Lots of people have kids when they’re older.’

  ‘Lots of people do. But I have no desire to be one of them.’ I sighed. ‘It’s like Peter said. There was no compromise solution.’

  James gave me a sad smile. ‘I’m going to miss him.’

  ‘Me too.’ I rubbed my face. ‘I’d better tell some other people. Rosie needs to know. And Bishop Nigel.’

  I went into the study. Although I’d placed it there, to see my engagement ring sitting on top of my computer screen was still an unwelcome shock. I picked up the band of gold and stared into the small diamond. Was I supposed to give it back to Peter? Or sell it on eBay and donate the funds to some charity for widows and orphans?

  I opened a desk drawer, and dropped the ring into a mass of paperclips, rubber bands, and pads of sticky notes. There it nestled, at home with the other debris of my life. I stirred a hand through the chaos and unearthed an obsidian Celtic cross. Raven had carved it for me, many months ago. I pulled it out and slid the cord over my head.

  As I closed the drawer again, the sound reminded me of a book being slammed shut. New chapter in life, I told myself. And I sat down at the Mac to write emails.

  Chapter Two

  Morey, Clyde, and Skylar joined me for Morning Prayer on Monday morning. My curate’s eyes kept glancing down at my empty ring finger. Her voice shook slightly as we sang, ‘Praise, my soul, the King of Heaven.’ Morey’s feathers ruffled as he maintained the bass line, and his tail whipped in confusion. Clyde’s tenor held us together, soaring effortlessly above our more uncertain voices.

  After we’d finished, I went into the kitchen to pour myself another cup of coffee. Skylar went upstairs. When I returned to the study, Clyde and Morey had positioned themselves side by side on my desk. Morey’s purple fur was still erect, and the snail shark’s body pulsed orange and green. ‘Okay, Black,’ the gryphon said. ‘What gives?’

  ‘Finger,’ Clyde added, pointing his eyespots at my bare hands.

  I wondered wearily how many times I’d have to repeat my news. ‘Peter and I have broken off our engagement. We won’t be getting married.’

  Clyde’s body changed to blue and purple. ‘Dragon.’

  ‘Not necessarily, young snail,’ I said. ‘I think I’m going to swear off all romantic relationships. Maybe I’ll join a religious order.’

  ‘And I’ll clip my wings and go live in a chicken coop.’ Morey walked over to rub soft feathers across my cheek. ‘I am sorry to hear this, Penny. Peter is a good man. I thought you two would be very happy together.’

  I felt snail tentacles touch my right hand. And Clyde sang, ‘“What a fellowship, what a joy divine, leaning on the everlasting arms. What blessedness, what a peace is mine, leaning on the everlasting arms.”’

  The tears I’d so far refused to shed trembled at the corners of my eyes. ‘Thank you, both of you.’

  The moment was broken by my telephone. I picked up the handset. ‘Penny White speaking.’

  ‘Penny, good to speak to you,’ responded the crisp voice of the Minister without Portfolio. ‘I thought I’d phone to express how sorry I was to hear your news. You and Peter will be in my thoughts.’

  Morey’s back was arched in alarm. ‘Did you tell her?’ At my quick shake of the head, the gryphon growled, ‘I do wonder how she finds these things out.’

  Despite my own anger towards the woman, the British code of conduct made me respond with a polite, ‘Thank you, Sue.’

  ‘I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’ve arranged for aid to be sent to the vampire colony.’

  Morey’s claws were digging into the desk. ‘She arranged for the British army to be there,’ he spat. ‘Because of her, children died. You tell her, Black. Tell her that there’s blood on her hands, and sending some bandages and food parcels doesn’t wipe out her guilt.’

  ‘I’d heard about the aid,’ I said carefully. ‘Bishop Aeron has made arrangements for the Church to take them in.’

  ‘We’d been told that the gas would turn them back,’ Sue continued. ‘I’d no idea that using it would result in loss of life.’

  Sue could very well be telling the truth. ‘It might be best if we stayed out of Lloegyr politics. It’s a very different culture to ours.’

  ‘Many different cultures. That’s part of the problem.’ Her sigh sounded real. ‘Ar
e you going to Tattenhoe Abbey in June? For the Vicar General conference?’

  I turned to my computer and called up my on-line calendar. ‘Yes, Morey and I are booked in.’

  ‘I’m arranging a fringe meeting on the evening of first night. It’s a get-together with a few people like you who’ve had the most experience of Lloegyr. My office will send you the details, but I wanted to speak to you first. Please do come. There’s much to discuss, and we’d value your input.’

  Morey met my eyes. ‘You should go, I suppose,’ he said slowly. ‘What’s the saying? “Keep your friends close, and keep your enemies closer.” Maybe you can put some sense into her head.’

  ‘I’ll be there,’ I told Sue. ‘Mine’s a double of Talisker.’

  ‘I knew that already.’

  As I hung up, an email landed in my in-box from Russell. ‘Do you know anything about the burial customs of Christian merpeople?’ I asked Morey as I scanned the brief message. ‘A dead merwoman was found in Midlands WaterWorld yesterday afternoon. The coroner would like to take some tissue samples, but he doesn’t want to offend the next of kin.’

  ‘I don’t know about merpeople,’ Morey said. ‘But if she were a Christian, the Church states that respectful investigation of a body, for the sake of establishing the cause of death, is acceptable. That would include samples, but not wholesale dissection.’

  ‘I’ll tell Russell that.’ My fingers flew over the keyboard. ‘I need to send a rat to Bishop Aeron’s office. Just to check if they know anything about Christian merpeople.’ A sudden thought made me sit back in my chair. ‘How do you baptize a merperson?’

  ‘You use salt water, of course,’ Morey said, sounding irritated. ‘Honestly, Black, this from a person who used whisky to baptize a dragon.’

  ‘Talisker,’ I agreed ruefully. ‘Pity it wasn’t something like Famous Grouse.’

  ‘Which you polished off last night, if I’m not mistaken.’ Morey narrowed his red-brown eyes. ‘You always drink the cheap stuff when you’re trying to drown your sorrows.’

  ‘I had good reason to drink last night.’ I waved at my desk. ‘And look, here I am, reporting for duty in the morning.’

  ‘After how many painkillers?’

  ‘No more than usual.’

  The cat flap rattled, and a moment later Clyde flowed onto the desk. Saved by the snail. Orange streaked down his waving tentacles. ‘Trees. Come.’

  ‘Trees?’ I repeated. ‘Morey, is Jago around?’

  Morey sniffed. ‘I should think he and James are still asleep. Do you want me to disturb them?’

  ‘No, they got back late last night.’ I rose to my feet. ‘Okay, Clyde, show me what’s bothering you.’

  My back garden didn’t really have trees, just bushes with aspirations. I stepped around several snail sharks, making a mental note that I probably needed to plan another shopping trip. Clyde led to me to the far corner. I studied the tall plant, wondering what I was supposed to see. ‘Well, Clyde?’

  ‘Speaking,’ the snail said. ‘Tree.’

  A slight breeze stirred the full green leaves of early summer. I touched one of the brown branches. To me, it looked like nothing more than a plant enjoying the warm sunshine. But my visits to Lloegyr had taught me to never take anything at face value. ‘What did it say?’

  ‘Black. Wings.’ Clyde waited a moment, then added, ‘Come.’

  ‘Come? Where?’

  ‘Where?’ he repeated. And I felt certain that he was equally confused.

  My fingers suddenly tingled. I rubbed the rough bark, wondering if I were only imagining the sensation. A small spider moved out of my way, and I bit back an apology. ‘Clyde, have you had a clear message involving words? Or just images?’

  ‘Images.’

  ‘And did you see anything other than black wings?’

  ‘No.’

  I dropped my arm. ‘Jago’s joining us this afternoon for your sermon assessment. If there’s anything more, tell him then.’ I bent down to pick up the snail, balancing him across my palms. Clyde seemed destined to remain only a foot long. This was good news, perhaps, for garden birds. However, I was sad that the healing provided by the unicorn Archdruid meant that he would never attain the size of his much larger compatriots.

  James was tucking into cereal and coffee when I returned to the kitchen, Jago standing on his shoulder. I barely had time to put Clyde down onto the table before Skylar enveloped me in a tight hug. ‘I’m so sorry to hear about you and Peter,’ she said into my hair. ‘James has just told me.’

  ‘That’s very kind of you,’ I said. The tremble in Skylar’s voice warned me that she was near to tears, which could lead to ones of my own. ‘It’s probably been some time coming, to be honest.’

  My curate pulled away. Her extra long canines were visible as she bit her lower lip. Blonde hair, still wet from a late shower, straggled across her pink shirt. ‘Look, my house is nearly ready, and I know that James is about to pay the deposit on a flat, but we can both stay on. I’d hate the idea of you being all on your own and lonely, just when you thought you’d be setting up a new life with a husband. Do you want me to tell Bishop Nigel that I’ll be staying on?’

  ‘You need to move on with your own lives.’ I forced a smile on my face as I glanced down at James. ‘It’s hard to let anyone go, but everyone has to grow up and leave home.’

  ‘If you’re sure?’ Skylar asked.

  I wandered over to the coffee machine and poured myself another cup. ‘Besides, I have Morey and Clyde. And a back garden full of snail sharks. I won’t be on my own.’

  ‘I’ll come down to visit, anyway,’ James said.

  ‘Just don’t think you can bring your dirty laundry with you,’ I warned. ‘And it’s about time you learned how to sew on your own buttons.’

  ‘She’s only joking,’ James said quickly as Skylar glared at him. ‘I know how to thread a needle, don’t you worry.’

  James’ brown hair, floppy at the best of times, had spilled across his eyes. ‘I might ask for proof,’ Skylar replied, reaching out to brush the strands back again. ‘Might be one of the five tests.’

  ‘Five tests?’ My brother leaned back in his chair. ‘I had enough of that when Morey wanted to marry Taryn. Unless it involves alcohol or Rugby Union rules, count me out.’

  Their easy teasing was a bitter reminder of what I’d recently lost. ‘We're meeting in the study after lunch,’ I reminded Skylar as I headed to the study.

  Jago flew over to my shoulder as I sat down at my desk. His tall crest, the same bright purple and blue as his fist-sized body, brushed against my cheek. ‘Anything I can do, Auntie Penny?’

  Stop being kind, I wanted to say to him. All of you. ‘Not really, but thanks for offering.’

  And I busied myself with writing an email to Bishop Nigel’s chaplain. His office kept a rat on standby, and it was about time I asked for a message about the merwoman to be sent to Bishop Aeron.

  <><><><><><>

  We settled into the study with fresh cups of tea. Morey took a seat on a bookshelf, squeezing himself into a space between a TARDIS and a Dalek. Skylar brought a seat through from the kitchen, and I lowered myself onto my office chair. Clyde flowed onto the desk, and Jago leapt onto his dark shell.

  Colours pulsed through the snail’s body, and his tentacles flipped and twisted in the sign language he and Jago had devised between them. ‘My text today,’ Jago said, translating for Clyde, ‘is 1 John 1: 8. “If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.” So may I speak in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.’

  Skylar had a notebook open on her knee, and she scribbled notes as Clyde preached. I sipped at my drink and wished that I could speak snail shark. Much of a sermon’s impact came from its delivery. Although I knew what many of what Clyde’s colours meant, I had no idea how the intensity or locale affected what he was saying. If blue trickled through his tentacles, but left his body grey, was this th
e equivalent of a whisper or a shout? What did it mean when orange tinged his foot, but purple circled his eyespots?

  ‘Finally, as Paul urged us in 2 Corinthians 5: 20, “So we are ambassadors for Christ, since God is making his appeal through us; we entreat you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God.” That is what I urge all of you, today and every day. Amen.’

  ‘Ten minutes precisely,’ Morey said, his purple tail swaying back and forth like a pendulum. ‘Well done, Clyde. And Jago. That was a long bit of translation.’

  ‘Yes, well done, Clyde.’ I leaned back in my chair. ‘Remember what we agreed. Everyone tells him three things he did well, and one thing to think about for his next sermon.’

  Skylar’s pen rapped against her notebook. ‘I liked your metaphor about sin being like your foot going over hard gravel, that it cuts away at you and leaves you wounded and in need of healing. You were using concepts which your congregation could understand. The biblical references were spot on. And I liked the way you repeated the main text several times. Next time…’ She looked down at her notes. ‘Maybe some link to contemporary issues. What should they think of doing next because of your sermon?’

  ‘I agree with Skylar’s points,’ Morey said. ‘You timed it well. The average congregation doesn’t want a long sermon. There was a good turn in the middle, when you introduced the quote from C S Lewis. The ending was strong. Next time, think of how you could incorporate something from Aquinas.’

  I sighed. ‘You always want something from Aquinas.’

  Morey lifted his wings in a shrug. ‘You can’t beat perfection.’

  ‘My turn.’ I paused for a moment. ‘I liked the fact that you didn’t quote anyone who died over six hundred years ago. Reepicheep is my favourite character from The Chronicles of Narnia, so you’re always going to score points with me if you mention him. I liked the short pauses, so people could take in your last point before you moved on to your next. Next time, bring in a quote from Doctor Who.’