G
eorge’s house was a whirlwind of activity. Iliesca and Popescu were directing what seemed like an army of workmen, fortifying the place. The garden was also in the process of being tidied up and landscaped, and the boundary fences were being replaced and strengthened. Extra security cameras were set on corners of the building, as the men turned it into a fortress.
The tidy-up attracted a collection of street-urchins, who sat on the wall and watched, until Iliesca sent them on their way with a small cash handout to buy sweets.
“You shouldn’t give them money.” George watched the latest donation. “They will keep on begging.”
Iliesca grinned. “Spies,” he said. “I’ve got them patrolling the neighbourhood. The money is a kind of salary, in exchange for information; anything happens in the estate, I will get to know about it. This is now my territory. Tell me your plans. I’m afraid we will be here for a while, so we don’t need you to house-sit anymore, and for what we have planned, it is best you are not party.”
“I was thinking about that,” said George. “It’s time I was moving on.”
“You’ve done a good job,” said Iliesca. “We don’t forget. I’ll see you get some severance pay. No hurry to leave, of course. Find yourself somewhere else first.”
“And you have my, and the lassie’s, assurance that nothing of the events of the other week will ever get told.”
Iliesca smiled. “I would expect nothing less, but don’t worry. We have covered our tracks. The evidence has been disposed of, and I don’t think our friend, Ms Stanhope, will be reporting anything.”
“I’d like to thank ye for helping save ma girl too,” said George emphatically.
“It was our pleasure. It’s not often we get the chance for a good traditional skirmish. All too often these days, it’s legal this and legal that, with people hiding behind lawyers and stupid laws, to try to stop rude people from doing the things the Law can’t stop them doing anyway. It’s all wrong.”
“I think I understand that... I’m sorry about your man though. He didn’t make it, did he?”
“No,” said Iliesca. “But he knew the risks, and the others had such a good time, it was worth it. There are plenty of my people to take his place.”
“I can see that,” said George, regarding the army of builders bustling over the roof. “Are they all here legally?”
“EU passports let them work anywhere. It’s so easy to get people in and out, and pickings are rich and uncomplicated here. The petty criminals, drug dealers and other scum have got it coming once we’ve finished our headquarters.”
“Best I don’t know,” said George. “Do you still want me to manage the shop?”
“Of course. Come to think of it, is the upstairs flat still empty?”
“It’s a bit of a mess.”
“I’ll have a word with the lads, and get them to sort it for you. How does a week sound before you can move in?”
“Impossible,” said George.
“Nothing is impossible if you throw enough men at it.”
“How are you feeling, Pet?”
It was a few days later. Ankerita had recovered from her ordeal, although she was still having odd nightmares that woke her, but she could never remember afterwards. Her memories of the Fantasia event were mixed and confused.
She looked up from the Book. “The noise is driving me mad,” she said. “Doesn’t anyone speak English anymore? I need to move.”
“Aye, we’re both going,” said George. “They need the house free for the rest of their crew. Something about headquarters. I’ve got a feeling they’re going to take Stanhope head on, with the information they got from your friend, Keech. It’s best we are out of the way.”
“He’s not my friend.” Ankerita’s eyes flashed. “What have they done with him... not that I’m interested.”
“I think they had a chat with him down in the gym, but he’s a poorly bunny. Poppy said they dropped him at the hospital afterwards. The lads don’t think he can be any danger, especially as bitch-woman will be gunning for him.”
“Then it’s time for us to move out. I don’t want to be caught in any disagreements between these sides. Do you think I’m safe to travel? Will the harpy still be tracking me? She knows where I am, but I have to find my friend.”
“Best keep a low profile,” said George. “I don’t know what Stanhope will be planning next. Maybe she’s learned her lesson, but you’re right, she could be simply licking her wounds, devising her next move.”
“She said something about the cameras,” said Ankerita. “They are everywhere these days, watching everything.”
“Aye, like Illy says, they are there to catch the few people who are causing the trouble, but end up persecuting normal law-abiders, who themselves become criminals, where they wouldn’t normally. It’s going to end badly, I can feel it. You only have to look at what’s happened in this estate to see how it will all turn out for the rest of the country.”
“What about your beautiful country manor up north. What was it called?”
“Torry.” George grinned. “Even there, the lovely law-abiding, flower-sniffing gentlefolk are becoming restless.”
“I’ll have to walk on the wild side to keep out of sight.” Ankerita smiled.
“Walk on the wild side? Where did you get that from?”
“Heard it on the radio. Is that not the correct usage?”
“Probably. So, what are you going to do about your friend, Jo?” George changed the subject abruptly.
Ankerita looked perplexed. “I’ve got to track her down, but that’s not easy. She may have gone to New Zealand to be with her folks, especially if she is suffering. That’s what I told her to do, when we didn’t know she was sick.”
“You think she’s still alive...? Sorry to be blunt, Hen.”
“I’m hoping so. I’d like to think that if she wasn’t, I’d know. I’d hope she would come and speak to me, through the crystal or some other way. Also from that, Fantasia said she was still hanging on, otherwise the bitch wouldn’t have needed to stop me try to save her.”
“Makes sense, I suppose.”
That evening, the work was finished for the day, and the workmen were sitting in the lounge, laughing, chain-smoking, coughing, watching football and swigging continental lager, mostly all at the same time it seemed to Ankerita. The hubbub and smoke leached its way up the stairs. Despite the frost outside, Ankerita had her window open to keep the air clear, and an electric convector heater was doing its best to compensate. She was wearing a big furry coat, and gazing into the crystal-ball. It was difficult to concentrate. “Why don’t they turn in?” she muttered. “They work from dawn ‘til dusk as it is. I can’t concentrate, with all this going on.” Her breath fogged the glass as she tried to contact her friend. “Damn it all.” She climbed into bed.
A clock struck twice. Ankerita heard the usual footsteps in the corridor, but none of the drumming. The rest of the house was quiet at last, but the room was cold; the heater had clicked its last. She knew the mirror was still in place on the landing, but Iliesca had insisted that it stayed, despite her warnings. He had moved rooms, and said he rather liked the idea of playing tricks on the men the haunted bedroom was allocated to. He added that he enjoyed the thought that it thoroughly bugged the spirit to have so many people about, changing the fabric of the place.
The moon was up, and light glared in past the open curtains. Her breaths came in clouds as Ankerita stared about. Something other than the footsteps had woken her. She started, as she felt a weight drop on to her feet, but it wasn’t heavy. There was a dark shape on the end of her bed. “What? Not you again?” It was too small to be the old man. She kicked out gently, and the shape moved up her body. She gripped her knife. A soggy, whiskery chin was forced against her nose. The thing purred.
“Cat.” Ankerita laughed. “I suppose you came in through the window. Silly me for leaving it open. If you think I’m getting up, you can forget it; if you want, you can settle here for the night. Just don’t crap on the floor.”
The cat dabbed at her face, yowled, and jumped from the bed. It sat on the table with the covered up crystal-ball, and gave a chirrup.
“Oh, please go to sleep, will you?” Ankerita was getting annoyed. Her brief rest had been disturbed, and she was becoming more awake. The cat jumped on to her bed and dabbed her face again. “Gerroff.” She pushed it away. In the dim light, she could have sworn it looked hurt. It went to the ball, and clawed the cover off. Ankerita stared. “That’s not a light inside it, surely?”
The cat yowled again.
“Oh for goodness sake.” Ankerita dragged herself out of bed, slipped into her dressing-gown and quivered her way to the table. She sat by the ball and stared into it, barely noticing as the animal jumped up on to her shoulder and watched the proceedings.
As Ankerita focused on the glow inside the glass, she saw a room. There was a dim light. Slowly, furniture came into view. It looked like a bed-sit, not too different from that she’d briefly shared with Wesley. On the bed though, was a sorry figure of a girl. As Ankerita watched, she saw a hypodermic syringe. The girl plunged it into her arm, and sank on to the bed. In the vision, a small black cat jumped up beside the girl. She stroked it absently, a relaxed smile settling on her lips. With a start, Ankerita realised she was looking at her friend, Jo. This was not the tough blonde she remembered, but a broken remnant of humanity. “Oh my Lord.” Ankerita shook with horror. “Thank you for showing me this, Cat. I will come and help.”
She went to stroke the animal, but it had vanished.
The following day, Ankerita packed, and after a tearful departure from George, with promises to return as soon as she had seen Jo, drove the Escort out of the garage. Iliesca did little to conceal his relief. He had not insisted she move the car, but plans were to extend the garage and turn it into a workshop. Ankerita’s few bags were loaded, along with the crystal-ball and the other artefacts, and the music was loud on the sound system.
She had decided to use the smaller roads, to avoid cameras. George had given her a heads-up so that she could tell the normal speed cameras, which, he said, were only triggered by honest citizens, from the real spy cameras. According to George, the latter were pretending to catch drivers who hadn’t bothered to insure their vehicles, but were surely there so that everyone could be watched and recorded by the security forces. His argument was that if uninsured drivers were being taken off the roads, car insurance premiums would come down. This was not happening, he said, thereby proving that the cameras were simply there for the generation of revenue.
Ankerita understood little of this, and drove away, planning to use the crystal to try to track her friend. George had programmed the phone he had given her with a navigation app, and had set a location which was as near as they could estimate to the area seen in the ball.
If there was an instance where she couldn’t avoid one of the spy-cameras, George had told her to stop the car, cover her number plate with shiny duct tape and wrap a scarf around her face. He had brought her a pair of large sunglasses from the shop, so the disguise was complete. Once she was clear of the camera, she could reverse the procedure and carry on. There were no police patrols in the back-lanes, because, George said, they were all too busy completing paperwork. It was, what he called, the ‘traffic trolls’ that she had to avoid.
After what seemed like a very short time, and a few resets of the navigation, Ankerita pulled up outside a dilapidated building in the outskirts of a grimy Midlands town. It seemed as though she had only been in the car for a few minutes. A last gaze into the crystal was enough to tell her she was in the right place, as was the black cat that leapt up on the bonnet of her car.
Ankerita packed her precious items into a shoulder-bag, and picked up the cat. It purred and climbed on to her shoulder, sticking its claws into the thick coat. She pressed the doorbell. She had to ring three more times before hearing someone on the stairs inside. The door opened. She had been prepared for Jo’s new appearance, but the state of her friend was a shock, all the same.
“Anna?” Jo’s blank expression slowly split into a confused smile of recognition. “And you’ve found Priah too. Come here, puss.” She took the cat. “He went out of the window this morning, and like wouldn’t come back.” Her eyes focused. “Anna, babe, you look great. What have you been doing? Where have you been? How did you find me? Come in and tell me all. Sorry, but the place is a mess.”
“I don’t mind a mess,” said Ankerita. “You should have seen where I was staying, once the builders moved in.”
Jo’s hands shook as she made tea for her friend. “It’s really like wonderful to see you. I’ve missed you. What’s been happening?”
“It’s a long story,” said Ankerita, “but I’m back. And I’m here to help.”
“What do you like mean, help? I’m fine, thank you.”
“So, the cancer and the drugs are ‘fine’ are they?”
“What?”
“I know all about it.” Ankerita fussed the cat. “I’ve seen the state you’re in, and I was told by a devil about your affliction.”
“Devil?” Jo looked up from her tea. “You mean that little annoyance, Didiubas, is back again? I thought he’d like returned to the Dungeon Dimensions, Hades, Wolverhampton or somewhere.”
“No, not him.” Ankerita smiled. “I do believe he’s truly gone, to wherever he came from, no doubt causing mayhem there as usual. No, this one is much more evil, and she is growing in influence all the time; this is a bitch called Fantasia Stanhope.”
“I’ve heard of her.”.
“She tried to sacrifice me,” said Ankerita.
“What?”
“Apparently she thought my blood held the key to immortality.”
“Stupid cow.”
“She nearly succeeded. If it hadn’t been for a friend and a few hoodlums, I wouldn’t be with you. She runs a big corporation though. I’m afraid she’ll come after me again.”
“She needs to be stopped.” Jo seemed to regain some of her old verve.
“She does, and I need you to help me.”
“What good can I be?” Tears started to run down Jo’s face. “I am in continuous pain, and can’t think straight half the time.”
“Haven’t you been to hospital?”
“Of course,” said Jo, “but they wanted to pump me full of drugs, make my hair fall out and keep me in a bed until I died. It’s easier this way. At least I have my own space and Priah here to keep me company. I can’t let him down.”
“You’ve been pumping yourself full of drugs, instead?”
“I started on hash, and that dulled the pain a bit, and then I had a visit by a dude in a monk’s outfit; he made it a bit better.”
“A monk. Brother Francis?”
“I think so, but I was too ill to take notice.” She clasped Ankerita’s hands. “I’m like so glad you’re here.”
“And where will it end?”
“When the pain gets too great, or the money runs out, I’ll take one last dose, and that will be it. I already nearly did.”
“No, I’m not letting that happen.” Ankerita shook her friend. “You are needed in the world.”
“For what?”
“I, er, don’t know, but maybe that will become clear, later. You can’t let yourself go.”
“There is no cure.”
“Isn’t there? Let me show you...” Ankerita got the Book out of her bag. “In here are spells for just about everything, including healing the sick. Look.”
Jo squinted at the picture and the unintelligible writing. “Hokey pokey,” she said. “I tell you, there is no cure. I spent too much time in the open in NZ, rafting, canoeing, sunbathing and everything. The blight got into my skin and it has gone to my brain and everywhere else. At the hospital, they reckoned I’ve got like only a few more weeks, but it might be months after the monk’s visit. They say they can keep me going a bit longer, but I say bugger that. What’s the point of delaying the inevitable? I’ve only like got the same thing to look forward to.”
Ankerita skimmed the pages of the book. “There must be something here to help with the pain. I wish I could read it.”
Jo stood up. “I’ll see about food,” she said. “I usually like get a takeaway sent up. Can you stop?”
“Until you are cured,” Ankerita avowed. “Yes, order something. I have money. Let me concentrate on the crystal to see if I can get through to someone for help.”
“Like the genie of the ball?” said Jo, but Ankerita was not listening.
Jo called through an order to the local Chinese takeaway and lay on her bed again. She was soon snoring gently. Ankerita put the crystal on a table and stared into the glass.
“Genet, are you there?”
Slowly, the witch’s face took shape. “Yes, I’m here. About time too. Where have you been?”
“Where have you been, I might ask,” Ankerita challenged. “I’ve been trying to connect, but nothing, since I visited your old village.”
“Some old fart was getting in the way,” said Genet. “Do you know who I mean?”
“I guess that was the guy in the mirror.” She sighed. “I didn’t think he was all that bothered.”
“He is strong,” said Genet. “He needs to be moved on.”
“Can’t we simply break the mirror?”
“Of course not! Don’t you realise that would release him to go out in the world. We don’t want free spirits loose. No, all you have to do is take it somewhere else. He is obviously drawing his power from the building. Somewhere different, he may still be trapped, but apart from giving people the odd shock, when they realise how old they are looking, a trick on his part, he can’t do any other harm.”
“That’s all wild boar past the hunting lodge,” said Ankerita. “I’ve got Jo here, and I need to cure her. What have you got for that?”
“Once you’ve found the artefacts, I’ll help. You’ve got three so far?”
“Yes, Chariot, Sword and Ring. Pah, sounds like a fool-born adventure game, the sort of thing Wesley would play.”
“If you can find two more,” said Genet, “you will be clear for the healing spell. You’ve seen the page already, I know. I would suggest the coat and the halter, which will save you trekking around Lakeland looking for less tangible items.”
“I love that part of the world.”
“I don’t mean the area,” said Genet. “I mean the kitchen goods supplier. Most of the other treasures are crocks and bowls. They are out there, but finding them amongst all the other stuff in the shops will be nigh on impossible.”
“Unless you like buying bits for the kitchen.”
“Don’t play me for a fool.”
“So, what do I do; where do I go?”
“Go and find the Halter of Clydno Eiddin.”
Ankerita pouted. “According to the book, that will supply a horse. What the hot-cockles would that be any use for, except to trample her to death?”
“It will help your friend, too. When she wears it, some of the pain will go away. Not a cure, mind you, but something to give her strength.”
“And where might it be?”
“Clydno Eiddin used to be a ruler in Hen Ogledd, so I would start there.”
“Where, by God’s Blessed Will, do I find Hen Old-leg?”
“It means the ‘Old North’, and as Clydno gave his name to Edinburgh and the river the other side of the country, that would be a good place to start.”
“One thing... Why are you helping us?”
Genet smiled enigmatically. “I will claim my fee in due course.”
“And what might that be?” Ankerita had a very bad feeling inside. She stared into the ball, but the witch had vanished.
