‘WELL, thank goodness that is over and done with,’ said Jane.
‘That was incredible!’ I cried, stretching my cramped body.
‘I can see Jane Austen’s ghost,’ said Oliver in an awed voice. ‘And demons. I actually saw demons.’ He laughed shakily. ‘That was…’
‘Terrifying,’ I said.
‘Yes,’ he agreed. He hurried over to Mordaunt and Melford. They were paler than usual and it was a full minute before either of them spoke.
‘Did you see the big ugly one, Mordy?’ asked Melford, a little breathlessly.
‘They was all of them ugly, Melford,’ replied Mordaunt, in a slightly strained voice.
‘And that weedy little fella, strutting about like a popinjay,’ added Melford, with a hint of his usual humour.
‘Didn’t like him, not at all,’ declared his brother. ‘Glad he’s gone.’
‘Are you okay?’ I asked them.
‘Course we are,’ they chorused.
Relieved, I turned to my parents. My father held my mother tightly in his arms. She was trembling but she managed to smile at me, whereas Father looked dazed, as though he were still trying to process what had just happened.
‘Are you all right?’ I asked him.
‘I—was that—what—’ He drew a deep breath. ‘I saw the woman in a white dress.’ He pointed at Jane. ‘I heard her tell that—that—’
‘—that ghost,’ I finished the sentence for him. ‘It was James Stanier Clarke. He came to claim Jane but she defeated him.’
My father gaped at me.
Jane glided towards us, a look of triumph on her face.
I couldn’t help smiling at her. ‘How ever did you do that, Jane?’
‘Do you know, I have not the slightest notion.’
There was a stunned silence and then everybody burst into slightly hysterical laughter.
We didn’t laugh for long, however.
‘It be a quarter afore midnight, young Cassie,’ Melford said.
‘Time’s running out,’ added Mordaunt.
‘I’m ready, Cass.’ Oliver tapped the Grimoire. ‘Again.’
‘Okay,’ I whispered. ‘Let’s do this.’
My heart pounded as Oliver opened the ancient book, but this time there was no black mist or demons or roaring voice, and he quickly turned to the vital page.
My skin prickled on seeing the thick black words: CARMEN MAGICUM ΆΝΆΣΤΑΣΙΣ.
‘Are you sure you’ve got the spell memorised?’ Oliver’s voice shook a little.
‘Are you sure you’ve got the translation right?’ I quipped, trying not to tremble.
‘Positive.’ Oliver lovingly caressed my cheek. ‘I triple-checked. I even made it rhyme.’ He smiled at me, his solemn grey eyes loving and tender. ‘You’re the most important person in my life, Cassie. I need you in one piece.’
For a moment I could not speak, so great was the unexpected surge of happiness, even in the midst of all this urgency. I smiled, and my spirits soared as he caught me in a bear hug and kissed me fiercely. Then he stepped back.
From my pocket I took the waterproof pouch I’d brought from Queen’s Solar and hung it round my neck. Into it I carefully put Jane’s quill pen, her gold necklace, and the outline of Sanditon. Then I looked at Oliver.
With infinite care he drew Jane’s letter from his coat pocket and gave it to me.
‘Thank you,’ I whispered.
He caught my hand, kissed it, and let me go.
I picked up a candle, and with Jane gliding beside me and my heart in my mouth, I moved to the end of the platform and entered the crypt.
Trying not to tremble, I walked to Anthony Gormley’s statue and placed the flickering candle in its cupped hands. My heart raced as I took a final look at those on the platform before I turned away to face the Phantral Gate. Jane hovered just above me and I saw her colour fade as I raised my arms and spoke the ancient words.
‘Oh Goddess of a thousand names
Virgin, Mother, Crone
Hear my prayer I beg of thee
Make ghostly essence bone
I call on thee Great Goddess
Hebe, Hera, Hecate
Show thy face, thy light divine
Have mercy, hear my plea
Take pity on this cursed soul
Command and conquer Death
Wake her from the dreamless sleep
Grant her life and flesh and breath’
In front of me the red light began to shimmer and move, then slowly, like a creeping tide, water began to cover the crypt floor. Ignoring the fear pulsating through me I lifted the pouch and held it out.
‘I offer thee her essence
Humbly I implore
Take these gifts, this sacrifice
And open Mortal Door’
The water rose with supernatural quickness and even before I’d finished the verse it was already lapping at my knees. I pressed on.
‘Here are tears for water
Here is gold for earth
Breath for air around us
Heart’s fire to give her birth’
By now the water had reached my waist and its icy touch was like a knife against my skin. Determined to finish the spell, no matter the cost, I waded to the small brazier which the Bishop had earlier hung on the wall. It was filled with burning coals blazing with bright orange light; it spat sparks as I drew near.
Trembling a little, I lifted the pouch high above the water and nodded to Jane. She instantly levitated the letter from the pouch. It hung, weightless, above the water, her blotched handwriting lit by the bright glow of silver ectoplasm that lit her form. I caught the page and threw it into the brazier. The coals flickered for a moment before the letter burst into scorching magenta flames.
Next Jane levitated her necklace from the pouch. It hung motionless in the air as she wrapped a thread of milky essence around it, as though to touch it one last time. I grasped it and dropped it into the fire. It lay like a sleeping gold snake before the flames took it. It writhed angrily and a shower of green-and-purple embers shot high into the air before the golden links melted slowly away.
Holding her hand over the pouch, Jane summoned her quill. A hundred tiny balls of glittering ectoplasm attached themselves to the feather as it floated away from her to hover in the air before me. I blew on it and cast it into the fire. At the first touch of flame the feather exploded into a dazzling mist of diamond sparks that cascaded over the side of the brazier and hit the water with an angry hiss.
Finally, Jane levitated the page of manuscript into the air and sent it shooting towards me with a wave of her hand. As it moved, her words turned from black to silver and then to violent red. When the last letter had turned crimson, I folded the paper in two and carried it – the last of Jane Austen’s precious possessions – to the brazier.
Resisting the urge to look at my father, or Oliver, and with a gut-wrenching surge of regret, I held the page over the coals and let it catch fire. It took all my strength to hold it as it burned and I swallowed a cry as the leaping flames scorched my fingertips, turning them black. I was about to pull away when two scarlet bands encircled my wrists and held me fast. Pain ripped through me and I opened my mouth to scream when, suddenly, the scorching bands released me.
I plunged my hands into the water even as the fire in the brazier turned the parchment to scarlet ash. Huge red embers cascaded down the crypt walls and hit the water making it churn violently. Within seconds I was caught in the midst of a turbulent blood-red sea.
Resisting the urge to run I turned to the platform and raised my blackened hands to my mother. She nodded, and I saw my father, like a dark shadow, lift her and step carefully into the water. Silently, my father carried my mother, so small and thin, through the tossing waves to me. Without a sound she took my hand.
Jane’s face was grim as she took her place beside my mother and laid a ghostly hand in hers. Instantly, the waters grew calm.
When all was still I uttered the fateful words:
‘And life force from another
Freely given, freely spent
As ancient lore decrees it
Lest the veil ’tween worlds is rent’
Mum let go of my hand and, with my father still holding her, she took both of Jane’s hands in hers. I raised my arms high, and with tears pouring down my cheeks, cried,
‘Great Goddess three, I call on thee
O noble Hera, full moon’s bride
O fair Hebe, new moon’s daughter
O wise Hecate, dark moon’s guide
Come, weave thy mighty magic
Come and take the helm
Free this spirit from the thrall
Of Death in Phantral Realm
Command Death, give Life
If only for one mortal hour
Raise the dead to flesh and blood
Unleash thy fearsome power!’
As I spoke the final words every candle in the crypt blew out.
I froze. The only light was the eerie red glow of the water, and even as I tried to gather my courage and move, the waters rose up and lashed at us. I could just make out my father fighting to hold Mum above the water, while I tried desperately to keep my feet. Even Jane was struggling to stay upright as the waves plucked at her gown.
Then Oliver’s voice pierced the tumult.
‘Cassie! Behind you!’
I turned just in time to see the Phantral Gate open like a great red maw. For a moment it seemed to me as though the crypt was burning with fiery scarlet light. A huge wave knocked me sideways and I saw my father, still frantically trying to keep Mum above water, lose his balance. They disappeared beneath the water.
‘Mum! Dad!’ I shrieked. Then Jane was caught by a rolling, clutching wave and pulled under. ‘Jane!’
I lunged forward, uselessly trying to part the water with my hands, certain that at any moment I too would be sucked under and drowned. I was almost where I’d last seen my mother when my father suddenly burst through the waves. He drew a gasping breath and began thrashing about looking for her.
But I saw her first.
I screamed as she and Jane were lifted by a rising wave. I could see their bodies, light and dark, caught beneath its huge curling red crest and held there as though by the fingers of a giant hand. The wave pulled slowly back, growing ever wider as it sucked the crypt dry and rose up in a great wall of water. Up and up it rose, until it reached the ceiling and hung there, a huge red liquid mountain that filled half the crypt and towered over us as it faced the Phantral Gate.
And from the gate came an answering burst of angry crimson flame. It flickered menacingly, growing bigger and darker and swelling outwards, until suddenly I knew what was about to happen.
‘We have to get out!’ I yelled, and desperately began pulling my father towards the platform. We’d almost reached it when a gigantic ball of Phantral Flame erupted from the gate, roared across the crypt and hit the wave. I cried out as fire and water wrestled in a violent embrace, sending huge drops of bright vermillion water pelting down on our heads.
Then the wave plunged downwards.
I caught a glimpse of two bodies in its thundering crest as it threw back the Phantral Flame and cast it through the gate. There was a deafening roar, the red light in the crypt went out, and the wave crashed like a breaker onto the floor. My father and I clung to each other as the water boiled and churned around us. I was sure we were about to be sucked under when suddenly the waters stilled and a terrible silence filled the crypt.
I had no idea of how much time had passed before I heard my father’s broken whisper. ‘Oh, Cassandra—she’s gone.’
I couldn’t speak. Mum and Jane were nowhere to be seen. Though whether thrown through the Phantral Gate or drowned by the malevolent wave I could not tell. My sense of loss was so great I thought I might die. Silent tears poured down my cheeks, my body grew cold and I almost fell.
Then, incredibly, for the first time in my life, my father pulled me into his arms. ‘She’s gone, Cassandra,’ he wailed. ‘My darling Mary. She’s gone.’ He dropped his head onto my shoulder and wept.
A great keening cry broke from me and I held my father tightly as all around us the water drained away, disappearing through some hidden drain or crevice until we were standing in a small damp puddle. ‘Oh, Dad,’ I sobbed, ‘I can’t bear it—’
He tightened his embrace. ‘We must be brave, Cassandra. You mother would have—’
Suddenly, Oliver’s voice, clear and strong, rang out across the crypt. ‘Look.’
My father and I turned as one and saw two bodies, lying side by side on the floor beneath the niche where once the Phantral Gate had been. My father gave a shout and together we raced to where the two still forms lay facing each other as though deep in slumber. Mum’s best navy suit was soaked and crumpled and Jane’s white dress clung to her.
I held my breath as my father dropped to his knees and put out a trembling hand. ‘M… Mary?’
Oliver reached me and we stared down at the motionless bodies and prayed.
Then, to my amazement, my mother rolled over and slowly sat up. My father burst into tears and pulled her into his arms.
‘It’s all right, George dear,’ she said, and I started at the sound of her voice – I’d never heard it so clear and strong. She reached out a hand to me. ‘Oh, my darlings, I’ve seen so much! You won’t believe it when I tell you.’
I hugged and kissed her before turning anxiously to Jane’s still form. It seemed too much to hope for two miracles.
Oliver took my hand and together we knelt beside her. ‘Jane?’ I whispered. I stroked a damp curl from her forehead. ‘Jane, are you alive?’
Time elongated as I waited with bated breath.
It could have been minutes or hours before she stirred and opened her eyes. Her eyebrows arched in question. ‘Your mother?’
‘She’s here and… you’ll never believe it, Jane, but I think she’s well.’
A slow smile spread across Jane’s face. ‘I prayed her sacrifice would see her blessed. I believe your mother will be well until the end.’
We helped her to her feet and she straightened her cap, shook out her dress and looked round the crypt. There was no sign of the Phantral Gate; everything was calm and quiet.
‘Well, Cassandra.’ Jane Austen squeezed the water from her reticule. ‘I believe I am alive again. What shall we do now?’