by Lucy Banks
“What?” Kester’s head shot up. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” the genie concluded, a spectral hand touching him briefly on the shoulder, ice-blue as a glacier, “If the Thelemites possess files about your father’s agency, it may be a target.”
“Which means,” Cardigan concluded heavily, “that your team are in danger. Serious danger.”
Chapter 11: Word Games
The train finally pulled into Exeter station at just after midnight. Kester emerged onto the cold, lamp-lit street, grateful that at least it wasn’t snowing here, and readied himself for the long walk home.
He’d tried calling both his father and Miss Wellbeloved countless times on the way down, but nobody had answered. Even stranger still, no-one at the office was picking up either.
He trudged through town, exhausted and anxious. Even the sparkling Christmas lights overhead did nothing to improve his mood. What if this Fylgja daemon has already got to them? he thought as he paced up the high street. After all, we have no idea where she is. She could be in Exeter already. She could have already done something to them, for all I know.
The mere thought made his fists clench inside his pockets. I’d make them pay if they tried any funny business, he thought fiercely, puffing with exertion as he started to climb the hill that led to home. If anyone’s hurt Dad or Miss Wellbeloved or any of them, even Serena, I won’t rest until I’ve found them. Even if it is a centuries-old daemon. The dampness of his coat pressed against his already-cold back, but he hardly noticed.
Finally, he arrived outside his front door, unlocked it, and stepped inside with relief. The hallway light was on, but this wasn’t unusual, given that his housemates frequently forgot to turn the lights off, not to mention the oven and other dangerous appliances.
God, it’s even colder in here than it is outside, he thought as he dumped his bag down next to the stairs.
“Hello?” A tentative voice trailed from somewhere in the house.
Kester nearly tripped over with shock. He hadn’t expected anyone to be up so late. Peering into the lounge, he was amazed to see Anya, sitting primly on the sofa, Thor comfortably coiled on her lap. Apart from the streetlight casting a glow over her shoulders, she was sitting in complete darkness. Her eyes shone with an almost eerie light.
“I didn’t realise you’d stay up,” he said breathlessly, then he instinctively clambered over and kissed her on the lips. “But I’m very glad you did.”
She kissed him back—a slow, thoughtful motion that set his heart racing—then retreated. “Of course I waited up,” she said, gaze flitting across his face. “I just wondered why you had to return in such a hurry. Your text messages didn’t explain much. Has something bad happened? Tell me everything, I’m worried.”
He switched on the lamp, which bathed the room in its usual watery light, instantly making everything feel far more normal. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing to be worried about,” he explained, settling himself on the sofa. “I just have to be careful what I say, don’t I?” He leant back, then touched a strand of her hair. “I like the new colour. Very pretty. It shows off your eyes.”
Anya grinned and patted him on the leg. “You are charming, Kester. So, what happened?”
He sighed and retrieved his phone, hoping that his father or Miss Wellbeloved would have miraculously replied to his messages. However, the screen remained frustratingly empty. “Can I get a drink first?” he said as he patted Thor tentatively on the rump. “The walk home really took it out of me.”
She bit her lip, then stood up. “Let me,” she said. “What do you want?”
“A big, fat glass of wine, if there is any.”
He waited patiently, resting his head against the welcome softness of the sofa. I’m utterly exhausted, though he knew that was no guarantee of a good sleep. If anything, he suspected he’d be wide awake until he was sure the others were safe.
Anya returned with a glass in each hand. She perched beside him, then nodded. “Go on, then,” she pressed. Her eyes almost seemed to burn in the amber lamplight, and he felt his insides turn to liquid once again. God, she looks prettier every time I see her, he thought as he sipped at his wine. It’s almost like someone’s switched on a lightbulb behind her face, which makes her gleam from within.
“Barty Melville turned up,” he explained finally, rubbing his eyes. Quickly, he filled her in on the rest of the details.
Her eyes widened. “That’s very interesting. Do you think that your dad is in danger?”
Kester nodded and traced a contemplative finger around the rim of his glass. “The fact that he’s not answering his phone isn’t helping,” he replied. “I’m terrified something’s happened to him.”
She nuzzled in next to him, stroking his tummy. “Why do you think Barty is interested in your father’s agency? What could your dad possibly offer to the Thelemites? Have you got any theories?”
“That’s a good question.” He studied the opposite wall, eyes tracing the various stains and marks on the wallpaper. It was such an appallingly grotty house, and the filth always seemed more noticeable after he’d been away for any length of time. “I wondered at first if Barty was more interested in Miss Wellbeloved, given that her family used to be so heavily involved with the Thelemites.”
Anya shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe your dad has something that they need?”
He exhaled heavily. “Who knows? All I’m concerned with right now is ensuring that everyone’s safe.”
“And did you find anything else out while you were up there?”
“You’re very interested in all of this, aren’t you?” He raised an eyebrow.
She blushed. “Only because I know it interests you. I care about you, Kester. This is your career, so I want to know more about it. That’s all.”
Kester smiled and sipped at his wine. “That’s sweet of you. But why don’t you tell me how your day went instead?”
“Ugh. The last thing I want to do is talk about the library.” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Why don’t you come to bed?”
“I’m not sure I’d be up to much, to be honest.”
“I mean to sleep, you funny thing! Though if you’re offering . . .”
Kester glanced down at his phone again. “I might just try Dad one more time. Just in case.”
She shrugged, downed the rest of her glass, then stood up, Thor snuffling restlessly at her heels. “I’ll see you upstairs then.”
“Yes, I’ll be up in a moment.” He watched her as she sashayed out of the room. Her pyjama bottoms hugged at her tiny hips in a most inviting manner, and he looked away, worried that his open leering might be considered indecent.
Think about something completely non-arousing, like concrete bollards or paper-clips, he ordered himself firmly, then raised the phone to his ear.
It rang and rang, until finally it went through to answerphone. Sighing, he slammed it on the coffee-table, then stared anxiously into space. Where the hell are you, Dad? he thought, aware of the bite of anxiety, nestled deep within his stomach. And why do I feel like something is about to go very horribly wrong?
The phone suddenly vibrated into action, startling him out of his reverie. Without pausing, he seized it up.
“Dad, where the hell have you been?” he snapped. “I’ve been absolutely worried sick!”
“Kester, it’s me.”
He took a deep breath, then laughed. “Hello, Miss Wellbeloved. Sorry about that. Where on earth have you and Dad been all day? I’ve been desperately trying to get hold of you.”
There was a nervous clucking down the other end of the phone. Kester waited patiently, the tension in his chest already unravelling like a loosening knot. Everything was alright. He could sleep comfortably now, without enduring any more panicking—for now, anyway.
“We’re at the hospital,” Miss Wellbelov
ed said eventually. “I left my phone in the car, so I didn’t know you’d called.”
Kester sat upright. “What happened? Is Dad alright?”
“He’s okay, don’t worry. They had to keep him in because of the risk of concussion. Other than a sprained ankle, he’s fine.”
“What happened?”
“He was going to make some breakfast for us, then he tripped down the stairs. You know how steep the stairs are in my house, Kester.”
“Hang on,” he interrupted, nearly spitting out his mouthful of wine. “Are you suggesting that Dad stayed the night at your house?”
Silence hung down the receiver, weighty and strange as a sumo wrestler in a tutu.
“I can’t see why you’d choose to focus on that particular detail, given that I’ve just told you about your father—”
“—Are you and Dad romantically involved, then?”
Miss Wellbeloved tutted. “May we move to another topic, please?”
Kester grimaced. The wily old goat, he thought, not sure whether to feel disgusted, perturbed, or supportive. Even after jilting her at the altar and having an affair with my mother, he managed to weasel his way back into her bed. It’s certainly impressive for a pensioner.
“Are you still there?” Miss Wellbeloved sounded wary.
“Yes.” Kester sighed and stretched his aching back. “How is he, then?”
“Your dad’s fine. He was a bit shaken up, but otherwise okay.” Miss Wellbeloved sighed. “It’s been a stressful day, though. How did you get on in Whitby?”
Quickly, he outlined his experiences, ending with Barty Melville’s interest in Dr Ribero’s files.
Miss Wellbeloved cleared her throat. “That’s curious, isn’t it?”
“Curious?” Kester exclaimed. “I’d say it’s more than that. I’d call it downright ominous. What if he’s trying to find out information to hurt Dad with? Or you, for that matter?”
“I can’t imagine Barty doing that,” Miss Wellbeloved said briskly. “Remember, Kester; I’ve known him since I was a young girl. He knew my father. And my grandfather, for that matter. Regardless of what he might think about my family parting ways with the Thelemites, I doubt he’d ever hurt me.”
“What about Dad, then?”
She paused. “I don’t think so. It’s just not Barty’s style. He’s petty. Arrogant. Rather ruthless at times, perhaps. But he’s not a violent man.”
Or perhaps you don’t want to acknowledge that he’s changed, along with the precious Thelemites, Kester thought unkindly. He made no reply.
“Look,” Miss Wellbeloved said eventually. “Infinite Enterprises already know about this, so we’ll be well protected. Your father, your girlfriend—everyone. Don’t panic, Kester, it’ll all be okay.”
He rubbed his eyes, tiredness descending on him like a bag of wet sand. “If you say so,” he mumbled. “I’m going to go to bed now, otherwise I’ll never be up for work.”
“Of course,” she replied. “Serena and Pamela are out of the office tomorrow morning, by the way; Curtis Philpot wanted them to visit the Exeter Thelemite lodge to see if they could detect anything.”
“Ah well, I’m sure I can manage one day without Serena goading me about something or other,” he replied. “Good night, Miss Wellbeloved.”
“Sleep well, Kester.”
He flicked off the lamp. It’s all too much to think about, he brooded in the darkness before standing up. And the thought of Dad and Miss Wellbeloved cosying up to each other, on top of everything else, is the icing on the cake.
The stairs creaked as he crept upwards. Pushing his bedroom door open as gently as possible, he smiled to see Anya tucked underneath his duvet, already asleep. The gentle rise and fall of her body reminded him of the waves of an ocean, tugging and pulling.
Snuggling in beside her, he draped an arm over her body, feeling the warmth of her skin. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was. Growing up with his mother, he’d always presumed he’d be single for his entire life. The thought of a woman actually liking him was something he’d regarded as ridiculous. Yet here she was, sleeping right next to him.
Good night, he thought, studying her face in the moonlight. I rather think I’m falling in love with you, Anya.
With that delicious yet frightening thought, Kester fell asleep.
The alarm cut through his head like an electric drill. He peered at the time, then groaned. How can it already be eight o’clock? he thought. It feels like I only climbed into bed a few minutes ago. Anya groaned, rolled awkwardly against him, then buried her head under the duvet.
“Don’t you have work this morning?” Kester mumbled, trying to silence his alarm clock by smacking it with his fist. So far, the alarm clock was winning the battle by a considerable margin.
Anya grumbled in response and burrowed deeper down into the bed. Kester wished he could too. His eyes felt grainy from insufficient sleep, and the prospect of spending a day at the office, fretting about the case, wasn’t an appealing one.
“I’ll see you later,” he whispered and attempted to locate her head underneath the warm sheets. In the end, he settled for stroking her hair before sloping off to the shower.
After an irritable march through town, Kester opened the door of the office to see Miss Wellbeloved and Mike, already at their desks. To his surprise, his father was there too, resting languidly on a set of crutches. He saw Kester and gave a slow, deliberate wink.
“It is the boy!” he exclaimed as though Kester had been absent for weeks, not a couple of days.
“You alright, mate?” Mike asked, poking a pair of tweezers into what looked like a discarded take-away carton. Triumphantly, he hoisted out a mass of wires, which sparked furiously as he waved them about in the air. “You’re looking a bit peaky.”
“I feel a bit peaky,” Kester confirmed, slumping down in front of his camping desk, which promptly buckled under his elbows. “I only got in at midnight last night. I’m suffering from severe sleep deprivation.”
“Did you enjoy the nice hotel in Whitby?” Ribero asked, crutches clacking on the floor as he hopped over.
“I was only in it for one night.” Kester looked down at his father’s foot, which was neatly swathed in white bandages. “I thought you’d still be in the hospital.”
Ribero laughed. “No, Jennifer got me out, like a prison break, yes?”
Miss Wellbeloved gave a long-suffering sigh. “Your father begged me to come and get him, so I did.”
The less I know about what my dad is begging you to do, the better, Kester thought. He was still struggling to digest the idea of their romantic involvement; judging by the wary expression on Miss Wellbeloved’s face, she’d guessed what he was thinking. His father, however, seemed blissfully unaware.
“So, we have got some more developments in the case, I have heard?” Ribero sat down heavily in the nearest chair. “Jennifer tells me that Dr Barqa-Abu found out many useful things.”
“Yes, about Dr Barqa-Abu,” Kester began, frowning. “You might have bloody warned me she was going to be there.”
His father grinned. “Ah, but it was more fun as a surprise, don’t you think?”
“No, not in the slightest.”
“So, now we know that we’ve got another daemon to contend with,” Miss Wellbeloved said. “Philpot was on the phone about it just before you arrived. This makes things a lot more complicated.”
“And no-one has any idea where Fylgja might be,” Mike commented, delicately trying to tie a knot in a wire. Another huge spark erupted, though he didn’t seem overly bothered. “That wily old daemon, eh?”
Miss Wellbeloved adjusted her bun, smoothing down the loose hairs that had managed to spring free. “It is mysterious. What has Fylgja been up to all this time? Everyone assumed she’d just returned to the spirit realm.”
“Is she as d
angerous as Hrschni?” Kester flipped his laptop open, ready to start researching.
“No daemons are necessarily dangerous,” Miss Wellbeloved replied tightly. “Remember, we still don’t fully understand Hrschni’s intentions, so let’s not draw any conclusions. His motives may be honourable.”
“Do you think Infinite Enterprises will mind if I log onto their system and look at Fylgja’s files?”
Ribero smacked the table. “That is a good idea, boy. Use that big brain of yours to find something out.” He leant closer, one arm hooked over the top of his crutch. “Remember, if we solve this case, then we make Higgins look like the big, fat idiot, right?”
“That’s not our main objective!” Miss Wellbeloved reminded him sternly. She turned to Kester. “I’m sure they won’t mind at all. See what you can find out.”
Kester swiftly logged into Infinite Enterprise’s Swww address. His father patted him on the shoulder, then rose awkwardly to a standing position.
“I leave you to it,” he announced and hobbled towards his office. Kester nodded, hardly noticing him leave.
He located Fylgja’s files quickly enough, though the sheer volume of notes was daunting. He skimmed the content as swiftly as possible, trying to locate anything relevant to their case. The latest document detailed her mysterious disappearance.
Interesting, he thought, eyes scanning to the bottom. She vanished at the end of the second world war, after inhabiting the body of a well-known Danish code-breaker. He tapped his fingers thoughtfully on the keyboard. Presumably, it was easier for her to slip away, given that everyone was preoccupied with something else at the time.
He flicked through the other pages. Prior to her disappearance, she’d inhabited several different humans and was described as an exemplary spirit, always attending registration and submitting her permit papers on time. The only negative comments Infinite Enterprises had included were about her vanity and a love of inhabiting the bodies of attractive, powerful women.
Both she and Hrschni behaved themselves impeccably for hundreds, maybe thousands of years, he mused, glancing around the room at the others. Why have they suddenly been galvanised into action now? What’s changed?