by Lucy Banks
She indicated left, then turned the car down a rough, dirt track. A huddle of sheep surveyed their approach with identical impassive, chewing expressions before scattering across the field. Kester focused his attention to the end of the driveway, then gasped.
“What the hell is that?” he breathed, studying the impressive sight in front of him.
Miss Wellbeloved chuckled as she pulled the car to a halt, wheels grinding in the loose gravel. She switched off the engine, then turned to him. “What do you think?”
Kester stared in open disbelief. A huge manor house loomed over them, a behemoth of stone and black windows. However, that wasn’t what astonished him. What took his breath away was the building’s sheer dereliction. To one side, the roof had crumbled entirely, leaving just a shell of haphazard walls and tangled ivy.
“You can’t seriously be telling me that the Thelemites meet in a place like this?” he said, opening the car door. “It’s a ruin!”
She laughed and stepped out into the open. “They certainly wouldn’t use the main lodge at this time of year. It would be freezing. As you can see, there’s not much left of it.” She gestured past the building to a narrow path leading behind it. “Come on, follow me.”
He trotted after her. At the back of the house, there was a squat, prefabricated building with a spartan felt roof. It looked rather like a modern village hall, and not at all like the meeting place of an ancient cult. In fact, it couldn’t have been more at odds with the main lodge if it had tried. Kester gawped.
“It’s a strange place, isn’t it?” he said finally.
“Not half as strange as the people who meet here,” Miss Wellbeloved said wryly. “Come on. Let’s see if Barty’s arrived yet.”
She knocked on the door. Kester thought he detected movement through the frosted glass. They waited.
The door creaked open. Kester’s mouth fell open.
My goodness, he thought, hastily rearranging his features into a more neutral expression. Is that a man or a massive pile of loose flesh?
Miss Wellbeloved caught his eye, the ghost of a smile playing at her lips. “Hello, Barty,” she said softly.
“Greetings, dear young Jennifer,” the man said in a rich, deep tenor that reminded Kester of a Shakespearean actor. Sharp black eyes peered out from beneath a pair of astonishingly large, white eyebrows. He looked like Moses himself, Kester thought, if Moses had since put on several stone and wrinkled up like a tortoise.
Miss Wellbeloved stepped inside. “It’s been a while since anyone’s called me young,” she replied with a laugh.
Kester watched the man shuffle to a plastic table in the centre of the room. He was as gigantic and wobbling as a hippopotamus; his size exaggerated by a shapeless garment covered in intricate stars. He’s actually dressed as a wizard, Kester realised, stifling a snort of laughter. I didn’t even know you could buy clothes like that, except in a fancy-dress shop. Does he go out in public wearing it? Or is it for our benefit?
Barty Melville creaked onto a seat, then invited them to do the same. His beard floated down over his neck like a misty waterfall.
“Well then,” he began, eyeing each of them in turn. “We shall commence our discussion in a moment, but we must wait for Parvati first. She’s informed me that she’s on her way, with the young lady in question.”
“Do you mean Anya?” Kester asked, leaning forward anxiously. “Is she okay?”
Barty raised an eyebrow. “Ah,” he replied, with evident satisfaction. “I take it that you are Kester Lanner. Well, well, well.”
Miss Wellbeloved nodded. “Gretchen’s son, that’s right. He’s joined our agency.”
Barty cleared his throat, fingers twisting at the ends of his moustache. “So I heard. I presume he has the same ability as his mother, then? To open spirit doors?”
Miss Wellbeloved’s eyes narrowed. “I suspect you know the answer to that question already, Barty. I know that you have ways of getting information.”
He smirked. “Touché, Jennifer.” With an elaborate yawn, he eased back, confident and contemptuous as a king on a throne. Kester pitied the plastic seat beneath him, which was clearly struggling to cope with the bulk.
“So,” Barty continued, “I take it the young lady is a companion of yours, young Kester?”
“She is,” he replied. He wasn’t warming to the gigantic gentleman in the slightest. His demeanour was knowing, and his expression unpleasantly sly, reminding Kester of a large spider sizing up two tasty flies.
“Kester wasn’t aware that Anya was a member of the Thelemites,” Miss Wellbeloved added. “She never mentioned it, did she, Kester?”
He shook his head.
“I’d hardly say she was a member.” Barty patted his stomach reflectively. “She’s only been attending meetings for a few months. Not even a year. Hopelessly out of her depth, from what I’ve heard.”
“How did she get involved in the first place?” Kester asked.
Barty Melville smiled slowly. “My goodness, you really don’t know one another very well, do you?”
“She told me she was going to a book club,” Kester said defensively.
“That’s what they all say.”
They were interrupted by a sharp knock, followed by a creak as the door opened. A tiny woman swept into the room, brisk as a miniature cyclone, followed by Anya, who kept her head down. Kester breathed a sigh of relief, chest loosening instinctively at the sight of her. She looks miserable and tired, he thought, taking in her greasy hair and hollow eyes, but at least she’s okay.
Anya met his eyes and gave him a wan smile.
“I apologise for being late.” The small woman, who was dressed in an immaculately-pressed suit, glided to the table. She can only be about four and a half feet, Kester thought, studying her with interest. Despite her size, there was an intimidating ferocity about her. She certainly didn’t look like someone to be underestimated.
“Parvati, my dear,” Barty greeted warmly. “That’s quite alright. Thank you for coming at such short notice. I trust this young woman was no problem at your house?”
Parvati placed herself on the nearest chair, then turned the full force of her gaze on Kester and Miss Wellbeloved. “She was perfectly well behaved,” she replied coldly. “It’s a shame we cannot say the same of her conduct at our last meeting.”
Anya bit her lip, glancing at Kester. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking but wished he could comfort her. She looks lost and frightened, he thought, emotion swelling in the pit of his stomach. How could they put her through this?
“Anya, do you know why Jennifer and Kester are here?” Barty Melville asked. His expression suggested he was enjoying her discomfort.
Anya nodded. Then shook her head. Then nodded again. “I presume Kester’s come to help me out,” she said. Her voice sounded as though she’d been rubbing her throat with sandpaper. “I don’t really know this other lady.”
“This is Miss Wellbeloved,” Kester explained. “I’ve mentioned her in the past. I think you’ve met her once.”
Anya shrugged, looking confused. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to get you involved in this. And I never meant to deceive you.”
“Hey, it’s fine,” he replied, desperate to console her. “There are a few things I haven’t told you either.”
“Ah, young love,” Barty chuckled. “Most touching. It sounds like you both have a lot to talk about. However, before we release Anya, a few issues must be discussed. Jennifer, you understand, don’t you?”
Miss Wellbeloved sighed. “It depends on what she’s done, Barty.”
He nodded. “Very well. Firstly, allow me to introduce Parvati Chowdhury. Parvati, could you enlighten our guests here as to what happened on Wednesday night?”
Parvati pressed her palms together, creating a severe arch tipped with sharp, red nail
s. Her eyes bored into them, forceful as laser beams. “In the past, Anya had given us cause to doubt her loyalty,” she began frostily. “We’ve been monitoring her carefully. Her outburst on Wednesday left us in no doubt.”
“Well, you know why that was,” Anya mumbled, staring out of the window. Parvati and Barty shot her a look, which she ignored.
“What exactly happened?” Miss Wellbeloved asked.
“Anya threatened to expose us all,” Parvati retorted, shaking her head in horror. “Which, of course, we cannot allow to happen. In the past, this level of insubordination would have been dealt with very severely indeed.”
“Thank goodness we don’t live in the past then, eh?” Miss Wellbeloved tried a smile, then seemed to decide against it.
“Obviously, we cannot release her until we’re satisfied that she won’t reveal our secrets to the world,” Barty added, drumming his fingers on the table. “It would not only threaten our ancient and most revered society, it would jeopardise your agency too, Jennifer.”
Anya’s head shot up. “How will it jeopardise your agency? What is your agency? You’ve never told me what you do for a job.”
Kester swallowed. He’d been dreading this question for a long time. “Um, long story.”
“It’s not really, Kester,” Miss Wellbeloved snapped. “We’re a supernatural agency. However, like the Thelemites, we rely on secrecy in order to conduct our business. Do you understand?”
Anya’s eyes widened. “So that’s why you were always so secretive about it,” she said, giving Kester a suspicious look. “Is there anything else I don’t know about you? Did you know about the Thelemites already?”
Kester held his hands up in protest. “Hey, the first time I’d even heard of the Thelemites was when you texted me last night. Honestly.”
Anya turned to Miss Wellbeloved. “Do you support what they’re trying to do?” she asked.
Miss Wellbeloved sighed. “The spirit world is complex,” she replied, looking at Barty. “For what it’s worth, I believe that humans should integrate with spirits more often. But I don’t think we should permit them freedom to come and go as they wish.”
“Our agency actually focuses on returning them to the spirit world,” Kester added.
“Only the problematic ones, of course,” Miss Wellbeloved clarified, fingers twiddling nervously in her lap.
Barty snorted. “Parvati,” he began. “What do you recommend we do?”
Parvati’s eyes glittered dangerously. “Tell Anya that if she breathes a word to anyone about us, it’ll be the last breath she takes?”
“Well, that’s one way of doing it,” Barty said with a chuckle, stroking his moustache. “Very well. Let’s leave it there, and say no more on the matter. Anya, we’re a peaceful organisation at heart, and we don’t like making threats. However, what Parvati has just said shall stand. If you even say the word ‘Thelemite’ to anyone outside of this room, there will be consequences.” His expression hardened. “Dire consequences.”
“That seems fair,” Miss Wellbeloved said quickly, before Anya could open her mouth. “Anya, you won’t talk about the Thelemites to anyone, will you? Aside from myself and Kester, of course.”
Anya glared at the opposite wall. Kester waited, biting his lip. Why isn’t she agreeing? he thought with frustration. Surely it doesn’t even need thinking about!
“I need an answer,” Barty barked.
“Anya?” Miss Wellbeloved looked anxious.
Finally, Anya nodded. “Fine,” she muttered. “But for the record, I don’t agree with what you’re doing.”
Kester frowned. There was something off about Anya’s voice, a deadpan tone that made her seem almost like an actor playing a part rather than a real person. She’s probably just in shock, he rationalised, trying to catch her eye. Either that, or she hasn’t slept all night. I’m sure there’s a reason for it, anyway.
Barty smirked. “Anya, your disapproval is noted. Now, if you’d like to depart? I have other affairs to attend to.”
Miss Wellbeloved rose, then gestured to Kester to do the same. “Thank you for your time, Barty. And your understanding in this matter.”
Barty rose with difficulty from his chair. “Had it been anyone else but you, we would not have been so merciful. This young lady has flouted many of our ancient laws. However, out of respect for your dear father, we are happy to overlook her serious misdemeanours. For now.”
“I appreciate the gesture,” she replied, moving towards the door.
Barty nodded. “You know,” he continued, walking slowly across the linoleum floor, “you would be most welcome to return to the Thelemites, don’t you?”
Anya’s mouth fell open. Kester quickly grabbed her by the arm and pulled her towards the door. “I’ll explain later,” he hissed, smiling nervously at Parvati as they stepped out into the open. “Let’s get you out of here.”
He tugged her down the path as quickly as possible, worried that the Thelemites might suddenly change their minds. Miss Wellbeloved followed, shoes clattering a staccato rhythm on the loose stones, a jarring noise against the quiet of the surrounding countryside. The only other sound was the sheep, chorusing a bleating disapproval at their presence.
“It’s cold,” Anya said, looking at the sky.
“The car’s just over there, don’t worry.” Kester guided her to the car-park, still feeling rather unsettled, though he couldn’t say precisely why. Why isn’t she being more animated? he wondered. It’s not like her. In fact, he almost felt as though he was talking to a stranger, though he couldn’t work out why.
Miss Wellbeloved glanced at him, her expression unreadable. “Why don’t you sit in the back, Anya?” she suggested as she opened the car door. “You look as though you haven’t slept in about a week.”
Anya lurched into the back, then rested her head against the seat. “I feel like my head is about to explode,” she mumbled. “There’s too much information to take in. And I keep thinking about Thor. I hope Wendy fed him.”
“Who on earth is Thor?” Miss Wellbeloved asked, eyeing Anya in the windscreen mirror.
“It’s her pet ferret,” Kester explained as they pulled away. “And Wendy is her housemate.” He turned and gave Anya what he hoped was his most reassuring smile. “Well, that was a bit of a close one, wasn’t it? You had us all worried there.”
Anya shook her head slowly. “I’m the one who’s worried now.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that you are both part of the Thelemites too! I had no idea, Kester. What else haven’t you told me?”
Kester tugged at his seatbelt, the weight of her suspicion bearing down on him. “For starters,” he began slowly, “we’re not part of the Thelemites. Miss Wellbeloved’s father used to be a member. That’s all. And apparently, it was very different back then.”
“It was,” Miss Wellbeloved confirmed, winding down the window.
“But you’re in a supernatural agency! And you never told me!” The hurt in her eyes could have rivalled a whipped puppy. Kester shifted uneasily in his seat.
“How could I have told you?” he said finally. “You would have thought I was a complete lunatic.”
A hint of a smile tugged the corner of her mouth. “But the irony is I wouldn’t have, would I? Because I know all about the spirit world too.”
Kester wagged a finger at her. “Exactly. You didn’t tell me anything about that, did you? You told me it was a book club!”
She reddened. “I would have told you if I’d have known what you do for a job!”
Miss Wellbeloved coughed as she swung the car back onto the main road. “I suspect this argument isn’t going anywhere,” she said. “The bottom line is, you both hid things from one another, and for good reason. But now they’re out in the open.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” Anya agreed, then ya
wned. She caught sight of her reflection in the window and grimaced. “I look terrible. My hair is a mess.”
“I think you look fine,” Kester replied, rubbing his temples. There were plenty of other things he wanted to say to Anya, but it seemed like the wrong time, especially with Miss Wellbeloved in the car. Anya seemed absorbed with the passing landscape outside the window, her expression unreadable. He sensed that she was thinking things over and thought it best to leave her to it.
“Where was it you lived again?” Miss Wellbeloved asked as they finally approached the outskirts of the city.
Anya told her, then settled back against the window. Within ten minutes, they’d arrived outside her house—a Victorian terrace that looked almost identical to Kester’s own house, only in rather better condition. I wonder if I’ll ever get invited into her home now, he wondered, feeling depressed. Probably not, if her expression is anything to go by. She’s definitely not impressed with me.
“I’ll call you,” he said as she climbed out of the car. Anya flashed a smile, which reassured him slightly.
“Okay. I’ll talk to you later,” she replied, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Thank you for your help, Miss Wellbeloved. I appreciate it.”
“That’s quite alright,” Miss Wellbeloved replied, studying Anya with obvious concern. “Take care of yourself.”
As they reversed down the road, Kester slumped back against his seat, feeling dejected. “I think I’m in the dog-house,” he muttered as he picked at a loose thread on his trousers.
Miss Wellbeloved rolled her eyes. “She’s not annoyed with you, Kester; anyone can see that. She’s just overwhelmed by it all. That’s why she was behaving strangely. Who wouldn’t, after that experience?”
She switched on the radio. The dulcet notes of a violin concerto wafted through the car, immediately soothing his nettled spirits.
“Perhaps,” he replied, unconvinced.
“Come on,” Miss Wellbeloved said, nudging his elbow. “Let’s head into the office. Your father will be surprised to see us back so quickly. I think he presumed Barty would be far harder to convince.”