21 Cemetery Road

by R Stoneman

  The doorbell rang that stopped any further conversation. I answered the door and took delivery of several hot and savoury smelling white paper-wrapped foil dishes. The delivery boy was young, thin and wet, wearing a crash helmet that was too big for him and a rain-soaked purple puff jacket.

  “Come in out of the rain,” I said.

  “Er... “He peered around me into the darkness of the hall. "No way, no thanks.”

  He pushed the bill into my hand and stepped back, his eyes flicking to left and right as if any second he would be attacked.

  "Keep the change," I said, handing him the money. He mumbled thanks and turned to leave. "Look," I said, "we've just moved in. Can you tell me of who lived here before?"

  "No. All I know is that anyone who moves in moves out after a few weeks. They said it's haunted. That's all I know."

  He hurried back to his battered Lambretta and drove off at high speed in the rain. I returned to the kitchen, a bit depressed that there had been no useful information to be gleaned. I sorted out who had the Chicken Bhoona and who ordered the Tandoori, then later, replete, mellow and surrounded by the debris of paper, foil containers and popadum crumbs Thor waved for silence.

  “I’ve been thinking.”

  “Yay,” said Gordon and burped. Thor glared at him and proceeded.

  “It boils down to two ways we can do this that will get the Necromancers off our backs and let us off the hook with Ms Black.” He paused for dramatic effect. “We have to get the bones ourselves and destroy them so no one else can use them or we go to the Dark Council. We need to make a clean breast of the whole thing and let them deal with it.” All eyes turned to me. “How do you rate your chances going down a long way into the bowls of the earth to get the bones of Albertus Grammaticus which may be sizzling with curses and enchantments."

  “What about Trevor?” asked Liz.

  “We don’t know the Council would destroy him,” I said. “I think that our being honest and acting as potentially fine upstanding members of the magical community they might look favourably on our request. Also, none of us knows how to transform a Power into a Familiar."

  “Point taken,” said Liz, “I vote we go to the Council."

  “And me,” said Thor.

  “Okay. I don’t want to tangle with the Council,” said Gordon, “but the Necromancers are way more dangerous and don’t obey the rules. I just hope the Dark Council do.”

  “The sooner, the better then and I mean today,” said Liz. “I told Black I would weave a web of detection around the house; instead, I’ll spin an illusion so that there always appears to be more people in than just us four."

  “I’ll forget making a Tulpa and get my spirit mice to creep all around the house,” said Gordon, “in the roof spaces and under the floorboards to see if there are any objects hidden that are even slightly magical.”

  We all looked at Thor.

  “Ah, yes, um, enchantments on all the doors and windows.”

  “And chimneys,” said Liz.

  “Obviously.” I looked out of the window, and the rain had stopped or at least faded to a fine drizzle. I stood up and carefully pushed my chair back under the table. “Wish me luck.”

  “Now?” asked Thor.

  “No time like the present, especially if there is an imminent danger of naughty people doing nasty things to us. Anyone want to come with me?” Silence. “Okay. See you later."

  I walked out, head high, which lasted only until I closed the front door behind me. I knew about the Dark Council; we had covered it roughly in college. They had an iron grip on the magical community, which I always thought was a good thing even if it was Draconian. If the Mundanes got too frightened by us Magicals, it would be the burning times all over again. I didn’t want to decamp to Australia on a long haul airship where the population didn’t care who did what as long as no one died.

  I caught the tram at the end of our road, wondering as it rattled along if I was doing the right thing. Then I thought of all the other alternatives, each one deadly. I changed trams several times and walked past dark soot-stained government departments in the cold late autumn air to Somerset House. Why they called it a house, the Gods know, it's a small city built around a square. In the vast entrance hall, just above the marble floor, ran a pale green line, only visible to Magicals to guide them to a suitable reception area. I hurried past Mundane officials, and a sprinkling of Magicals down a gloomy brown and cream painted passage to a door marked ‘Strictly No Admittance’ and on to a small reception counter. It was staffed by a pale young woman who’s hair floated around her in a pale green cloud.

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  “No, sorry, I didn’t want to use the phone.”

  “Oh, let me see.” Her pale green eyes closed for a moment then opened in shock.

  “Necromancers. Oh my, wait here.” She jumped up and hurried to a door behind the desk. It must be useful having a telepath in reception I thought and a quick way to process who wanted what and where to send them. The door swung open, and an old lady with a kindly, smiling face, dressed in a brown tweed suit entered the room. Perhaps, because I was on edge, I sensed a sheen of protecting magic around her.

  “I'm Mrs Tilling. My secretary says you are having a problem with Necromancers. Please follow me.” She led me to a door to the left of the desk, and we entered a small but comfortable high-ceilinged room with the walls lined bookcases stacked with books. A small black cat sat in front of a coal fire, burning in a little grate. It watched me with curious eyes.

  “Please sit,” she said. I sat in one of the two wing-backed chairs by the fire and tried to stop my nerves jangling. I knew these homely surroundings were meant to put me at ease but didn’t.

  “For God’s sake young man,” she snapped, “I’m not going to eat you. The Dark Council is meant to help Magicals, not scare them to death. Now, Tilly says you have a problem with Necromancers, is this so?”

  “Yes.” I saw the cat staring at me. “Is the cat your familiar?”

  "Yes, her name is Pickle, and she says you are what you seem."

  "Oh, good."

  “Now stop prevaricating, and tell me everything.” The word 'everything' rang like a bell in my head, and I did find myself telling that smiling old lady everything. When I had finished, she flicked her fingers at me and said “fini”. I relaxed and fell back in the comfortable chair feeling empty.

  “So,” she said, “Ms Black is interested in the bones of Albertus Grammaticus too, that is interesting. Not unexpected though. Of course, the interest might be just academic but as you pointed out, the attack so soon after you phoning is worth a thought. Ms Black would know that when Albertus vanished, the Dark Council council searched his house for magical objects, lest any Mundanes stumble on them and cause problems They never found his tools or books; indeed they found nothing and certainly not the well. Perhaps it’s best if you say nothing to her; if she is on the side of darkness, things will not go well for you all.”

  “My friends and I found the well and Trevor almost by accident; it wasn’t hidden.”

  "Yes, Trevor. He spoke the truth as you say, and I don't doubt it is the truth as he saw it. Do you want Trevor to be your familiar?"

  Pickle stared at me.

  “Yes, our funds are limited, and I know we would have to train him up, but he’s intelligent, and it seems a shame to send him back to the earth again.” She laughed, and her face softened.

  “Mr Greenwood, I vividly remember when I started as a magic user, and I remember how tough it was. Very well, I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thank you, but what shall we do? I don’t want to appear a wuss, but anything to do with Necromancers scares us all.”

  “Good, that means you are sensible, and you’ll live longer. What do you do? Nothing.”

  “But...”

  "Understand this ‒ you do nothing. Act as you would typically, set up your wards and protection, but we of the Council are alert and watching. S
omeone will visit this evening from the Council by the name of Felix.”

  “And? I mean, what then?”

  "Couldn't say. You're a chaos magician; this is right up your street."

  She gave me a bright smile with very sharp canines, and I knew the interview was over.

  "Thank you, Mrs er, Miss, oh, I'm sorry, I have forgotten your name."

  “Of course,” she said placidly. “You’re supposed to. Now off you go.”

  I found myself standing on the steps, watching the black taxis and the trams trundle past in the smog, sparks from the contacts with the overhead cable cracking and flashing. People hurried past under the gas lamps; their head bowed against the London drizzle. Well, I said to myself, back to tell the others and a nice cup of tea.

  UPWARDS TO THE UNKNOWN

  I had hardly got in and removed my rain-soaked coat before Gordon dragged me into the kitchen. Liz and Thor sat around the table, watching about a dozen semi-transparent mice scampering around on the surface.

  “Mice?” I asked.

  Gordon picked up a mouse and let it run around on his hand.

  “Well, what happened? Did you get to talk with anyone?” He joined the others at the table, and they all looked up at me.

  “Mice?” I repeated.

  “Spirit mice,” said Liz. “Gordon called them up, and they searched the house looking for any object of interest; then they reported back to him.”

  “Will,” said Thor, “you tell us what happened, and we’ll tell you what we found.”

  I pulled up a chair and told them everything I could remember, but even as I was telling them what had happened, I found the memories rapidly fading.

  “Sorry but I seem to be forgetting everything except that someone called Felix would arrive today from the Dark Council.”

  “Typical Forget-it spell,” said Liz. "They’re just covering their ass; it’s annoying though and almost illegal. Not that the Dark Council pays much attention to the laws of the land.”

  “So,” said Thor, “we don’t know what’s going to happen or what we should do.”

  “Okay, what did you want to tell me about your searching mice?”

  Gordon dropped the mouse on his hand back to its fellows and leaned back in his chair, grinning.

  “I called them up as soon as you left and sent them all over the house and garden. Apart from our magic, we struck lucky in the attic. In the past, we've all been up there looking around and know that all that's up there is Mundane junk or we would have sensed if it was magical."

  “So,” I said, “you found nothing.”

  “Yes.”

  “So, why the excitement?”

  “Don’t you see?” said Thor. "This house was the home of Albertus Grammaticus, a sorcerer. Don’t you think there would be something magical around, a broken wand, a charm, anything?”

  “Yeah, well, we know that the Dark Council searched the place and found nothing,” said Liz. “Or if they did, they took it away.”

  “But Mrs Tilling told you they didn’t find the well or his working tools or books, did they?” said Thor.

  “You have a point there,” I said, “but they do know about the well now and Trevor as well.”

  “Are you thinking that Albertus hid something up there in the attic?” I asked.

  “Maybe,” said Gordon.

  “But your spirit mice didn’t find anything.”

  “They're simple creatures; if there is anything magical hidden up there by Albertus and passed over by the Dark Council, it’s going to be well hidden ‒ way beyond the capabilities of my mice.”

  “We found the well,” said Liz, “and I think we were meant to.”

  We all looked at one another.

  “Okay,” said Thor, “now I am creeped out. Maybe there is something more we need to find?”

  I watched as Gordon dismissed the mice by passing his hand gently through them and watched them slowly fade to nothing.

  “We haven’t looked at what’s up there, I mean, using scrying or whatever skills we have,” I said. “If we are meant to find something, then we will.”

  “True, but finding the property of a sorcerer is downright dangerous, “said Liz, “and do we tell the Dark Council if we do?”

  “Depend on what, if anything we do find. I vote we go look,” said Gordon.

  “We have to now,” said Liz, “otherwise, we will always wonder what, if anything there is there.”

  “Don’t forget, the Dark Council are sending someone around today. I vote we go look for it now.”

  “Fine,” said Thor. “Count me in and let’s go up and see what there is to see.”

  Our attic could be reached by folding stairs in the top floor landing ceiling, counterbalanced and easy to pull down. Armed with torches, we climbed up into the cold, dusty space under the roof beams and looked around. Just as the cellar turned out to be empty, this was the reverse, crammed with unwanted furniture and bric-a-brac.

  “Anybody getting anything?” I asked.”

  There was a long pause.

  “Nope,” said Gordon.

  “Not really,” said Liz.

  “Not a whisper," said Thor. “In fact, this is the most non-magical place I've come across. Even Mundanes leave a faint trace of energy where they’ve been.”

  “I think the Dark Council have worked the magical equivalent of sterilising everything up here,” said Liz sourly. “Everything on this floor is dead.”

  “Magically speaking, yes," I said. "The Dark Council would have looked around using magic and found nothing, then zapped it to make sure. Gordon, your mice searched for something magical and found nothing, nor did we. Magic, magic, magic ‒ we are all looking the same way. Forget magic; we need to use our eyes; there must be something different ‒ a clue.”

  “Like what?” asked Gordon.

  “A loose floorboard ‒ something out of the ordinary that shouldn’t be in an old sorcerer’s attic.”

  “Don’t forget Will,” said Thor, “that other people have lived here, even for a short time.”

  “Yeah, but they weren’t looking for something magical,” said Gordon.

  “Well, we are,” said Liz, “and I think we should start now before the batteries run down in our torches.”

  We opened boxes, riffled through back copies of almanacks, and moved everything we could, looking for loose floorboards. Anything that could be opened, we opened, and all we got was dirty.

  “I am hot, dusty and would kill for a cup of tea,” said Liz.

  “What’s that you have in your hand, Liz,” asked Thor.

  Liz looked down at the object she was holding as if she were surprised to find she was holding it.

  “Oh, this? It’s a doll, like the one I had when I was young. I called her Sally and loved her. If you pulled the little ring out on her back, she would say things like ‘I’m hungry’ or ‘I want to go to sleep', although it never said ‘I love you; it just peed on me.”

  I looked at the battered doll with a simpering plastic smile and torn dusty dress and sensed not the slightest trace of anything magical about it. Liz turned it over and pulled out the ring attached to a length of string and released it.

  “Maybe it will say I love you this time,” said Thor.

  I watched the string start to draw back in, expecting the usual insipid child's voice, but instead felt a shiver down my spine as the four short, guttural words came from the voice box of the doll with the throaty rasp of an old man. “Well,” said Gordon, “it didn’t say I love you, Liz, sorry ’bout that.”

  “Those are words of command,” said Thor shaking with excitement. "Something should happen when those words are spoken.” We all looked around, our senses alive waiting, but nothing happened. “Pull the cord again, Liz.” Liz pulled the cord and Thor listened to the same word sequence. "And again, please.” He listened intently. “I’ve got it; nothing will happen because it has to be spoken by a real voice.”

  He stood up and opened his ar
ms.

  “No,” I shouted, but it was too late.

  Thor shouted the four words of power; they hung in the air like a great bell tolling the death of worlds. A ripple passed through us, and the house, like an icy wave. Bangs and booms came from below our feet as everything shook. Plaster fell from the ceiling as we all made a mad dash for the steps and descended in a tangle of arms and legs. Down on the landing, we stood around, shocked and disorientated.

  “You stupid pillock,” shouted Gordon. “What have you done?”

  WHEN IS A DOOR NOT A DOOR?

  I looked around and nursed my hand where Thor had trodden on it in the panicked exodus from the attic. As far as I could see, nothing had changed.

  “Everyone okay?” I asked.

  “Fine,” said Liz in a shaky voice.

  “Yeah. No problems, but I'm dead worried,” said Gordon, glaring at Thor.

  "Look, folks," said Thor, "we wanted to find something, and we did."

  “Yes, you did say the words, but what did they mean?” I asked.

  “It’s odd, but when I was saying those words, they sounded like a summoning, but of what?”

  “I think we should go back up there and see if anything is revealed,” I said. “Anyone else coming?”

  “I will,” said Thor, looking determined and a little pale, “because I started it.”

  “No,” said Liz. “I’m tired and dirty, and if this person from the Dark Council is coming, I don’t want them to see me looking like I’ve been dug up from the cemetery next door.”

  She walked into the bathroom and slammed the door.

  “Sorry guys, but not me either,” said Gordon. “My mice took a lot out of me.” I climbed back up the steps and cautiously peered over the edge.

  “See anything?” asked Thor.

  “Nope.”

  “Oh, good.” We finished clambering up and stood shining our torches around, but everything looked the same. With the shadows flickering around the crowded space, I thought that we had best leave it until morning when there was more light. I grabbed the doll, thinking there might be a few more things about her to be discovered later. We left the dark attic and descended the ladder to see Gordon waiting for us at the bottom. He was quivering with excitement.