8: A gripping dark fantasy mystery

by Georgina Bartlett

  “Age before beauty,” she mused, and held her hand out.

  “Yeah, you’re right,” he said, and pushed her through the tree, taking a last moment to look around before he entered.

  “I am so sorry,” Mort apologized as she brushed herself off and helped Steven up, giving Forrest the stink eye as he entered.

  “I don’t know how you manage it, sis. I made it in perfectly,” Amour said, running a hand through his hazel hair.

  Steven swept the dust from his clothes and gave Mort an anxious smile, his lips pink against his velvety brown skin.

  “He is ok,” Madame Arbre grinned, and winked at her son who became even more flushed.

  Forrest looked at Mort and winked at her. She stuck her tongue out at him, but couldn’t stop herself from smiling back.

  “Guys…” Amour faltered. They all glanced at him and caught what he’d seen.

  A grand staircase wound around the middle of the cavernous trunk. A beam of light shone through the middle. Small boxes and envelopes floated in the middle of it all the way to the top. Forrest ran his hand along wood that surrounded the staircase. It was smooth, perfect, and lit up at his touch. As they began to climb, he noticed a dream catcher symbols carved into the steps.

  “This is unbelievable.” Mort pushed her fringe out of her eyes.

  “It really is. But I thought this was the tree of libraries. Where are all the books?” Amour asked as he tried to grab a box from the beam of light, but only managed to push it further away.

  “Run yuh hand along de wall again Forrest,” Madame Arbre said, and watched as he lit up the walls with his touch again. “Say something, or tink about something.”

  Forrest burrowed his brows at her until a piece of the wall, like a shifting brick, moved forward, as if pushed from the other side, and a book sat in his hand.

  “The whole tree is the library?” Mort asked with a happy shriek. She ran her finger along the plane of the wood, and watched as her fingertips left bursts of soft light in their wake.

  Forrest pulled out the book and turned it over. He read a word that he had not seen before. ‘Fidelis’. He opened the book and read the first few lines aloud. “Made from the light of Sire Sun and the dusk of Mother Moon, the Fidelis is the most powerful being to ever be created, having control over life and death. The Fidelis is the only force that can stand against the darkness, made of true goodness, an unwavering Believer.”

  “What’s a Fidelis?” Mort asked. “I’ve never heard of one.”

  “Dere are many tings in dis place dat yuh ave never heard of,” Madame Arbre said, and closed the book in Forrest’s hands. “But dis one is a story for another day,” she declared and pointed to the gap where the book came from. “Right now, we have a lot to discuss.” She tapped her cane against the step she was stood on. It suddenly elongated and made a platform. With a soft creak, right before their eyes, a table and seats rose from the floor.

  Forrest placed it back in the tree but couldn’t get rid of the words he’d read on the book cover. ‘Unwavering Believer.’ He repeated in his mind.

  Seventeen

  Justine ripped the sushi pyjama top from her body, not caring that she’d torn off two buttons and threw it on the floor. Glaring down at it, she felt tears pierce the back of her eyes but ignored them and dragged a hoodie from her wardrobe to throw on. She stormed into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of white wine from the fridge. She took a swig from the bottle.

  Glancing around the room, she spotted her phone at the end of the kitchen counter. Without thinking, she picked it up and dialled a number. It rang for two clicks before the call was picked up.

  “Rick. Hey, its Justine,” she said, and paused to let him talk. “Yeah, I’m fine. Listen, could you do me a favour and stop trying to fucking help me? I don’t need you to tell Jason about this and then have him come here, and I sure as hell don’t need your pity. So just leave me alone ok!” she yelled and slammed the phone down.

  With the wine bottle still in her hands she stormed over to the sofa and pulled a blanket around herself. Hot tears started to stream down her cheeks, and she let go of the strength she’d been using to keep herself together. Her shoulders shuddered as the emotion tore through her and left a hole in her chest. She drank another mouthful of wine, but her stomach began to turn from the several bottles she had drunk the night before. She covered her mouth and dropped the wine bottle on the floor, then ran to the bathroom, her brown hair stuck to the tears on her face.

  After twenty minutes of retching into her toilet, she had nothing left to give, the dry heaves making her throat feel like it was covered in sand and her lungs burned. She shuffled to the kitchen and shoved her head under the faucet for some water.

  “Ah shit!” she hissed, as a piece of glass she had missed imbedded itself in her heel.

  Leant against the counter, she tried to tweezer the glass out with her fingers but couldn’t, the shard was so thin. She slapped the counter in pain and managed to only push it in deeper. With her foot only partly touching the floor she limped into her room and grabbed her tweezers from the chest of draws. She could see blood was starting to ooze all over her foot from the walking. Using the side of her hoodie, she wiped away the blood to get a better look at the glass splinter. It crunched under the tweezers as she tried to pull it, the sound making her stomach churn again.

  “Come on, you little bastard,” she said as she managed to get the tweezers in the right position and snag the shard out of her skin.

  Blood ran down her foot and into the gaps between her toes. She grabbed a cotton bud from her drawers and applied it to the cut. She placed the tweezers and glass splinter on the counter, surprised that something so small could cause so much pain. As she pulled away the cotton bud to check bleeding, she noticed the footprints of blood across her wood floor. They led back to where she was leaning, back to her phone.

  Justine hung her head and sniffed back some more tears that had threatened to come. Moving across the room with the cotton bud still on the bottom of her foot, she picked up the phone and redialled Ricks number.

  “Hey,” she faltered as her throat restricted her speech. “Rick, I’m so sorry,” she said, and hugged her knees to her chest.

  ***

  March 16th was printed in bold on the newspaper that sat on Justine’s welcome mat. She glared down at it, afraid to touch it, even though it couldn’t physically hurt her.

  “How has it been a week without you?” Justine whispered to herself as she placed the paper on her kitchen counter.

  Her phone started to buzz, and she saw Rick’s name on the screen.

  “Hey, how’s it going?” she answered, and put the phone on speaker.

  “Hey, have you seen it?”

  “Yeah. I just picked it up. Haven’t turned to the page yet,” she said.

  “It’s a really nice tribute.” He paused. “Still hard to believe she’s gone.”

  “I know.”

  “Listen, the captain wants you to come in and give a statement.”

  Rick spoke, but she was preoccupied when she noticed a piece of the mail she bought in was a long manilla envelope. She picked it up and could feel there was something at the bottom of it.

  “Justine?”

  “Huh. Oh yeah, I’m here. Sorry, what did you say?” she asked, missing the entire conversation.

  “The captain wants you to come in and give a statement. Today. Have you listened to the voicemail messages yet?”

  “No, I haven’t. Ok, I’ll be there as soon as possible,” she said and hung up. She felt the void in her chest now more than ever as she flipped through the newspaper and found the obituary dedicated to Ronnie. Her picture smiled up at her from the page.

  Eighteen

  “I ave had my suspicions about de king, heard whispers of him messing wid tings dat should not be messed wid. But I never expected it to be what I found inside dat creature’s head,” Madame Arbre started, her eyes stuck to the wall.

&n
bsp; “What did you see?” Forrest asked, his hands fidgeting on the table.

  “De king is just a foot soldier in de war dat is coming, taking orders from a rising power in de other world. We have only met two of de nightmares dat are waiting for us. Dese creatures are made for one ting. To destroy,”

  “Why would the king take part in this? I mean, I know he is a piece of shit, but there must be a reason,” Amour argued.

  “Because de king is obsessed wid power. It doesn’t matter who wields it or what dey want him to do. He goes where de power is. But he has gone beyond a force of strength and sold his soul.”

  “What are they?” Mort asked, her voice mousy.

  “Dey go by de name Libidine Oni. In Latin it means Lust Ogre. Given deir title, I can only assume dat de being who made dem is very old. Dey use de old language, like dis tree.”

  “How do we find the monster who made them?” Amour asked.

  “We follow de breadcrumbs. De creature told me of its endless family dat lays waiting for de coming war. But without tinking, it also showed me where it had surfaced, de earth realm. Yuh all need to travel dere and find de source, find who has created dem, and a way for us to win dis battle.”

  “But how do we get there? The only travel tree is at the palette palace. King Tinc removed all the rest from the kingdom,” Mort turned her nose up at the thought, but watched closely as Madame Arbre and Steven shared a look. “Is there something we’re missing?”

  Madame Arbre sat forward and took a deep breath. “I take it yuh all remember de Weblix Wars?”

  “How could we forget? It raged on for ten years. King Tinc wiped spiders from Tincture for not helping to make weapons and armour from their silk,” Forrest said.

  “Not all of dem. A witch known as Moira, and I were drawing energy from Sire Sun and Mother Moon to help us find a way to end de reign of King Tinc and to save our children from him. Without meaning to, we came across a realm dat was fully formed and habitable. De Elder Spider had helped us many times to hide de children from de annual raids, so we decided to approach him with an offer. If we revealed dis realm to him as a safe haven to hide him and his own, he would, in return, take a group of Tincturians with dem and grow a resistance.”

  “A resistance?” Doc asked and sat forward.

  “A way for us to grow our ranks and to keep children with special abilities safe. He agreed to de terms, and we sent thirty couples who were willing to fight in the struggle across to de realm with three leaders, Dorian, Val and Rainy. Siblings who each have a different eye colour. Dey were quite like yourselves, but not as powerful. We receive correspondence from dem every few months, but time works very differently there. One year for us is ten years for dem.”

  “Ten years? How is that possible?” Amour asked, his eyebrows in his hairline.

  “Realms can have different time signatures, we aren’t completely sure what deir’s is based on.”

  “Is there time signature the same as earths?” Doc scrambled, his eyes wide with worry.

  “No, but we don’t know what earth’s time is like compared to ours,” Madame Arbre explained.

  “Exactly how long have they been in this new realm?” Doc queried, his hands together in front of him.

  “For us it’s been five years since dey left,” Madame Arbre answered.

  “Fifty years,” Doc said, and took his glasses off to rub his eyes. “How is this affecting the couples who travelled there? And how has King Tinc not noticed the disappearance of sixty people.”

  “Dey were worried about de atmosphere affecting Tincturian new-borns, but dere have been several children born since den, and deir aging has remained de same. Deir genomes have not been affected by de new realm, and dey have adapted to work through de day and night. As for King Tinc, he sees what he wants to see. He knows I’m in dese woods, but he has no idea where I am hidden.”

  “Unless they use us as bait and follow us to you, which they did,” Amour said, and stood up to pace the room.

  “But where did it come from? Who created this realm, and for what purpose?” Forrest asked.

  “We don’t know. It’s as if it were made for dis very purpose. De Tincturians live in peace wid de spiders and train for what is to come. Dey have mapped out deir new world and found deir own travel tree that allows dem to visit de earth realm. Dey have even made themselves a name, a new name away from de king.”

  “What is it?” Mort asked.

  “Somnium Bellators, it translates to-”

  “Dream Warriors,” She answered.

  “Exactly,” Madame Arbre said and smiled. “Dey want to give hope back to de world.”

  “Alright. We get it. They’re having a great time in their new realm, away from all of this,” Amour snapped and splayed his arms out. “But let’s talk about what is important right now. What are these Libidine Oni creatures? What precisely can they do?” Amour asked, still pacing the room, his pink shoes clicking across the floor.

  “In all me years, I have never encountered anything so evil,” Madame Arbre shook her head while holding her temple. “Dey live to destroy and to cause pain. Dese tings were not born, dey were bred. Dey don’t eat, don’t sleep, and never tire. Dey were made centuries ago, and dey were stored underground. I’m not sure if whoever is wielding them now is de one who made dem, or if dey just came across dem and took deir leash. But dese creatures are patient, not minding de dark, with no real concept of time. Dey can feel in deir bones dat dis is de moment dey have been waiting for, to feed from de one ting dey want. Death.”

  “Well,” Amour sighed, leaning against the wall with his eyes wide. “I think we can all agree that asking that was a mistake.”

  “It took control over Clara’s mind. Is this one of the things it can do?” Mort asked.

  “I wish it were dat simple. No, it drew out de fear and anger inside of her and made it de only ting in her life. Dey pull out de worst in people and make dem act on it. It’s why Clara did what she did. I’ve known her for decades, and she would never do something so heinous,” Madame Arbre assured, and offered a small smile to Doc.

  “But why, why would she harbour so much anger towards Doc?” Mort asked, and looked back and forth between him and Madame Arbre.

  “Tis complicated,” Madame Arbre replied.

  “With all due respect, we would like to hear this from Doc,” Amour said, and took a seat next to Forrest, his cheeks rosy.

  Doc scratched his brow and took a deep breath. “It is hard to explain.”

  “Of course it is,” Forrest sneered, and crossed his arms as he leaned back in his chair.

  “It is hard to explain because Clara is my wife,” Doc stammered and rubbed his hands together. The siblings all froze with the same slack jawed expression.

  Nineteen

  After two train rides and a quick stop at her office, Justine walked into the police station to find Rick pacing the hallway.

  “Where the hell have you been?” he asked when he saw her.

  “Sorry. I stopped off at my office with some mail I haven’t opened. I need to catch up on a case over the next few nights. What’s wrong?”

  “I’m not completely sure. All I know is that the detectives on Ronnie’s case listened to the voicemails she sent you and then requested your presence. She must have left you something important,” he speculated as he chewed his thumb.

  “Well, do you know what they heard on the recording?”

  “No. I was hoping you would.”

  “I haven’t listened. I can’t bring myself to listen to them yet,” she said in a fluster.

  “Hey, it’s ok I get it.” Rick gave her a warm smile and stroked her arm. “They are waiting for you in interrogation one.” He pointed down the hall to a blank grey door with the number one printed in gold. “You need a glass of water?”

  “No, I’m ok. Thanks, Rick.” Her legs wobbled as she made her way across the bullpen. She glanced around the office and saw Ronnie’s desk covered in flowers and car
ds. The detectives around the room, who were normally too preoccupied to pay attention, watched her as she reached the door and knocked on it.

  When it opened, a man with a thinning hairline and growing waistline answered the door. “Justine Brick?” he asked. When she nodded, he moved aside and let her into the room.

  A recorder was sat on the metal table next to a file that had Justine’s name on it. She took a seat across from another detective with long black hair and heavy eyeliner that enhanced her porcelain white skin. She gave Justine a thin smile before she took a greedy sip from her steaming cardboard cup.

  “Thank you for coming down today, Miss Brick,” the female detective murmured. “My name is Detective Strong, and this is my colleague, Detective Walsh.”

  Justine nodded and smiled at each of them. “It’s no problem. I want to help in any way I can.”

  “Great. So, we have been listening to the voice messages Ronnie Blake left on your phone the night she died, and have a few questions about the details in them,” Detective Walsh stated, his grey-pink skin unsettling. “Have you listened to the messages?”

  “No, I haven’t.” Justine fidgeted in her seat.

  “And why is that?” Detective Strong asked, her eyes sweeping over Justine.

  “I haven’t been able to bring myself to listen to them yet. It’s all too fresh.”

  “We understand,” Detective Strong sighed heavily. “If you are comfortable and don’t mind, we have them here.” She tapped her long black nails against the recorder on the table.

  Justine swallowed hard. “Like I said, anything I can do to help.”

  “Right, well let’s start at the beginning,” Detective Walsh said, and angled his head to the tape while his eyes remained on Justine.

  Detective Strong pressed play and Ronnie’s voice came to life.