* * *
Outside, in the fields beyond Hartswell-on-the-Hill, where the mist petered out and the world was near normal, strange amorphous shapes moved through the grass. Black shadowy nostrils inhaled the breeze, searching for familiar scents.
Finding none, they dropped back to the earth, hissing and clicking in their frustration.
Time and again, they approached the outer boundaries of the mist, trying to penetrate its wall-like intensity.
Time and again, they were beaten back, unable to get any closer to the object they sought, unable to glean even the faintest whiff of its existence.
21. The Blue Moon Ball
I crouched in the undergrowth alongside the main driveway of Hartswell Hall, feeling rather than seeing a vehicle cruise slowly by on its way up to the house. Everywhere around me the mist clung, heavy and oppressive, swallowing any light, and preventing me from seeing even a few inches ahead. High up, above the mist, the moon shone brightly, but had no impact on the ground below.
It had taken me a long time to get here, walking as if I were a blind person, feeling the way, running my fingers along neighbours’ front walls, carefully putting one foot in front of the other, stumbling as the pavement gave way to the road. Luckily, I had a good sense of direction and knew exactly where I was headed, but the lack of vision disorientated me.
I was sure I had plenty of time. I’d left the house just before 10.30pm. Mum and Granddad had each gone to bed, both complaining of a headache, which I attributed to the unusual weather and abnormal air pressure. Ever since I’d been wearing the blue crystal necklace, I’d felt amazingly vibrant and energetic. Some nights I’d needed only a few hours’ sleep, arising in the early hours to do my homework and excelling at college to the amazement of my tutors.
Now, I gazed ahead in the direction of Hartswell Hall, wondering how to get in without anyone seeing me. I was determined to find out what was going on at the Blue Moon Ball. Once again, the phrase ‘like a moth to a flame’ kept going through my head and that’s how I felt, like a small, vulnerable creature drawn to the light, not caring whether or not it heralded destruction. Instinct had taken over from rationality, like an ancient response deep within me, and I was simply doing what I felt I must.
Slowly, I crept closer to the hall, sometimes going on my hands and knees to feel where the edge of the driveway met the grass verge. Occasionally, the blue crystal swung forth, shining brightly in the dense mist, and I hastily tucked it back beneath my sweater in case it drew attention to me. At last I reached the courtyard, and narrowly missed being spotted, as Aquila drove away from the hall, nearly catching me in the Jaguar’s headlights. Pressing myself to the old stonework, I shrank into the mist and remained out of sight.
Walking in through the main entrance wasn’t an option, as I would most certainly have been seen. I had to find another way. Slowly I edged round the side of the hall, feeling the old stone walls beneath my fingers. I continued round the building until I was at the rear of the hall, the lawns and ha-ha falling away behind me. Now I was close to the ballroom, where all the action would be taking place. My excitement stirred as my fingers touched the framework of the large French windows. There was no way the doors would be open, I reasoned, but tried nonetheless. To my amazement, the door swung inwards. I quickly pulled it back and slipped inside.
Holding my breath, I closed the door behind me, thankful to leave the cloying mist outside.
Fortunately, long heavy velvet drapes concealed me, enabling me to look into the ballroom without being seen. I heard a band playing a slow jazz number and, over the top of the music, the sound of people laughing and talking, and the chink of glasses. I glanced at my watch. It was 11.30pm. Determined to take a quick snapshot of the Blue Moon Ball, I took out my cell phone, remembering to turn off the flash and set it to silent. No point drawing attention to myself.
Peering through the curtains, I looked into the room and gasped.
What I saw was all the more shocking for being so unexpected. If I’d thought the ballroom would be full of fashionable men and women, dancing, mingling and enjoying themselves, while musicians played contemporary music, I was wrong. Perhaps I’d seen too many period dramas, but the sight in front of me was so far removed from this, it was almost laughable. This was more like the communal lounge of an old folks’ home.
The room was candlelit and atmospheric, with a fire burning brightly in the huge ornate fireplace. The large purple sofas had been pulled back against the far walls, and pretty chairs with blue backs and tables with delicate blue coverings placed along the sides of the room. A small group of elderly musicians were seated at the far end, playing a low-key jazz number, but no one danced and the central area remained empty. Sitting and standing around the edges of the room, some on their own and others in small groups, talking quietly, were around fifty people of greatly advanced age.
I stared, not comprehending what I was seeing.
Where were the rich, glamorous sophisticates who’d travelled from across the globe to be here? I’d expected to see beautiful people on a par with the de Lucis family, not a collection of stooped old folk, with wizened skin and thinning hair, who’d left their best years firmly behind them. True, the ladies were dressed for a ball, but mottled parchment skin and hunched backs did nothing for the exquisite ballgowns I saw before me, while the abundance of beautiful jewels hardly drew my attention from their owners’ shrivelled faces and scrawny arms. Talk about mutton dressed as lamb, I thought, these people had serious style issues. Someone should have told them to dress their age, not hang on with desperation to the last vestiges of a youth that had well and truly disappeared.
A woman in a stunning emerald green ballgown came to stand close to me, with emeralds and diamonds at her throat and in her hair, but I could hardly bear to look at the folds of creased, papery skin covered with lesions and blemishes that the plunging back of her dress revealed. I took her photo and shuddered with revulsion.
It was obvious why Theo hadn’t wanted me around, I thought. This was just plain horrible. It wasn’t a glamorous, star-studded event, it was a geriatric get together. These people may be wealthy and famous, but their stars had most definitely faded. It was not a pretty sight and I was hugely disappointed. I didn’t recognise a single one. I took a couple more photos just for the record, and had just decided to creep back out of the French windows and beat a hasty retreat home, when I heard a commotion at the ballroom’s double doors.
The band stopped playing and I clearly heard Viyesha’s voice saying, “Friends, it is time. The heavens have aligned, the moon is full, and it is time for us to renew and re-energise. Please follow me… It’s time to be re-born….. We hold eternity in our hands.”
I peered through the curtains and saw an old woman in a royal blue gown cupping her hands in front of her, with crossed thumbs, giving some kind of sign.
In unison, the guests echoed her, “We hold eternity in our hands”, each cupping their hands in a similar way.
I stared aghast. Surely it couldn’t be Viyesha? The woman was ancient, with a stooped back, snow-white hair and marked, mottled skin. She certainly resembled Viyesha and was possibly her mother or grandmother even.
Then I remembered the clawed, shrunken hand I’d seen last time I was at the hall and how Viyesha had hastily concealed her hands beneath her sleeves. Could it be possible this hunched, old creature was she?
I continued to watch from behind the curtains as the old folk began to form a queue. As they passed through the double doors, the ancient Viyesha-woman handed out midnight-blue hooded cloaks, which they hung around their shoulders, pulling the hoods up over their heads. On the back of each cloak was a strange symbol: a circle, crossed by an infinity sign. It was the same sign I’d seen hewn into the stonework at the top of the Clock Tower.
Suddenly, the sound of whispered chanting filled the air. The old folk seemed to be saying, “Lunari… Lunari …. Lunari…” over and over, f
illing me with a dread I couldn’t explain.
I waited until the last one had exited the ballroom, then cautiously stepped out from behind the curtains, looking nervously around the empty room and wondering what to do next. Half empty glasses stood upon tables and the band’s instruments were laid carefully on their seats. I felt the blue crystal on my breastbone tingling and vibrating, and knew I had to follow them.
As quickly as I could, I crossed the ballroom and looked through the double doors. The reception area was empty and I saw the last hooded figure disappearing up the main central staircase. Still they chanted, adding a demonic feel to an evening that was already weirder than anything I could have imagined. I shivered, but never once considered leaving, committed to seeing this through, whatever the outcome.
Seeing a spare cloak lying on the floor, I picked it up and put it on, admiring its deep, soft velvet. I pulled the hood tightly around my face and breathed a sigh of relief. Now, at least I blended in and wouldn’t be noticed.
I crossed the reception area stealthily, walking on tiptoes, and ascended the large carved staircase, my heart beating against my ribs, my breathing fast and shallow. In front of me, I saw the last person gliding along the corridor to the left, the sound of chanting filling the air. I crouched low on the stairs and peered over the top step. The old folk were queuing on the landing and I gasped as I realised where they were going. One by one, they filed up the old servants’ staircase.
‘Structurally unsound, my foot!’ I muttered to myself, “I knew there was something up there they didn’t want me to see.”
I waited as they climbed up the stairway, then crept along the corridor, keeping as close to the walls as I could, hiding in the shadows. I was so close to uncovering their secret, it wouldn’t do to be discovered at this stage.
When they’d all disappeared into the upper reaches of the hall, I crept forward and followed them. The old gas lamps had been cleaned and lit, I noticed, casting a dim glow. The cobwebs had all been swept away and a thick, dark blue carpet had been laid on the stairs. Good, that made it easier to follow without being heard. Up I climbed, the air feeling chill as I reached the upper landing. I looked around.
A long corridor stretched in front of me, various doors leading off it. Towards the end of the corridor, I saw the hooded figures shuffling forward, silent now and queuing once again, and I quickly took another photo. I had to know where they were going and where this corridor led. At regular intervals, square pillars jutted out from the walls, acting as plinths for decorative arches that spanned the corridor, and creating dark recesses that were perfect for concealment.
Quickly, I moved to the first pair of pillars, pressing myself into the recess and peering round. No one had seen me, and the queue of stooped, elderly people was getting noticeably smaller. I risked moving forward to the next pair of pillars. Now, I was afforded a better view and strained to see, through the dim light, where the old folk were going.
At first glance, it seemed that the corridor reached a dead end, but as I crept forward, I realised there was a small spiral stairway that could lead nowhere else but up into the Clock Tower. A number of figures were congregated on the corridor, awaiting their turn. A dim blue light shone down the stairs and I realised that a door leading to the upper tower rooms must have been opened.
As I watched, the blue light became stronger and I was aware of people coming back down the stairs. Panicking that I was about to be discovered, I looked around for somewhere to hide. Seeing a doorway immediately opposite, I darted across the passageway, opened the door and flung myself inside, closing the door silently behind me. For a second I stood, leaning against the doorframe, calming my breathing as I realised what a near miss I’d just had. If I’d stayed on the corridor a second longer, my cover would most certainly have been blown.
I knew, now, where they were going, but I still didn’t know their secret.
What was in the room at the top of the Clock Tower? Why was a blue light shining out? And why were the old people queuing to go up there? I had to find out what was going on.
I took a brief look around the room in which I stood. It was probably once a servant’s bedroom, but there was nothing in it now, except for an old wardrobe on the far wall covered in dusty cobwebs. I turned back to the door and opened it slightly, peering through the gap. This gave me a perfect view of stairs disappearing upwards and I could clearly see the last few old folk queuing to go up, while others came down and started to file back down the corridor. The sight that met my eyes as they passed my doorway made my blood run cold. It was surely impossible …
A procession of the most beautiful beings walked slowly by, their heads held high, their backs straight and their posture perfect, each one looking radiant, glamorous and young, and each holding a blue cloak over their arm. I realised one woman had been standing near me in the ballroom, wearing the emerald green ballgown. Gone was her sagging, creased flesh. It had been replaced by firm, well-toned, ivory skin with the translucence of alabaster. Her chestnut hair gleamed, her eyes sparkled and she dazzled with the radiance of a beautiful jewel. Her lips were full and pink, her features perfectly formed and her figure like a Vogue model. On her shoulder, etched into her skin like a glowing blue, translucent tattoo, was the same circular symbol crossed by an infinity sign. With a jolt, I realised she was a well-known TV star, who had recently made a comeback, looking younger and more glamorous than anyone would have thought possible.
She paused and waited for the man behind her to catch up, linking arms with him and laughing. Her laugh was high-pitched and clear, with the resonance of tinkling bells, and her teeth were dazzlingly white.
Her partner was equally spellbinding and I gasped anew, as I recognised one of Hollywood’s leading men. His skin, too, was ivory-toned and unlined, and he glowed with the radiance of youth. His eyes were clear blue, dancing and bright, his features chiselled and angular, and his shoulders broad and muscular.
Quickly, without thinking of the danger, I pulled out my phone and, placing it right up against the gap in the door, took a picture. I simply had to have a souvenir of this amazing evening.
More beautiful people followed. I saw a well-known pop star, who by rights should have been in her sixties, looking no more than twenty-five; a famous actress, with a perfect, air-brushed face, immaculate teeth and hair, and the most beautiful slender body; and a famous footballer, who had just made the headlines for signing a multi-million pound deal.
Other people filed past, laughing and chatting animatedly, each looking young, vibrant and glamorous. The women were stunning in their haute couture ballgowns, the men debonair and sophisticated in their black dinner suits and dress shirts.
I watched for maybe half an hour, until I figured nearly fifty people had emerged from the Clock Tower’s upper room. Some looked very young, others slightly older, but none of them appeared to be above mid-thirties, and I knew without doubt these were the same people that I’d seen in the ballroom looking frail and old.
Now they were rejuvenated, heading back downstairs to have the kind of party I’d expected to see when I first looked in. Some I recognised, famous movies stars, models and moguls; others I didn’t know, but could tell by their demeanour, they were powerful, dynamic people, exuding the charisma and vitality of youth and beauty. Whenever I had the opportunity, I took photos, my hands shaking, my mind unable to process what I was seeing, but knowing I needed proof that I hadn’t imagined any of this.
Finally, the last few stragglers filed past the doorway, their laughter and gaiety filling the corridor. Then my hand froze and my heart felt as if it had stopped. There, coming down the spiral stairway, was Violet and Joseph, each looking as if they’d been through a fabulous makeover. They glistened, they glowed and they glittered with a blinding radiance, their skin so perfect I wanted to reach out and touch it, their beauty so mesmerising it literally took my breath away. Violet was wearing a stunning purple off-the-shoulder, slinky c
hiffon gown that showed her amazing physique off to perfection, Joseph looking impossibly handsome in his dark dinner jacket and white starched shirt.
Viyesha and Leon followed, holding hands, more beautiful and more attractive than I’d ever seen them, their blond hair immaculate, their faces tranquil and serene, Viyesha sublime in shimmering royal blue silk. With horror, I realised it was the same blue gown I’d seen the old woman wearing who had handed out the cloaks. I stared, transfixed, as they passed by, not understanding what I was seeing before me. This couldn’t be happening, surely? And yet the proof was there in front of my eyes.
One person remained that I longed to see.
Where was Theo?
Surely, I hadn’t missed him amidst the earlier throng of guests that had passed down the corridor. I looked again, but the spiral stairway was empty, a faint blue glow still just about visible. Was he still up there? Dare I go and have a look?
As I was considering my choices, the light suddenly became stronger, and there he was, my Theo, bathed in blue, walking down the stairs, the most beautiful creature of all, so exquisite I had to fight back the tears. I gazed at him enraptured. Never had he looked so amazing, so alluring or quite simply divine. The attraction I felt for him possessed my whole body and I knew I had to be with him, whatever the consequences.
Quickly, I opened the door and stepped into the corridor, pulling back the hood from my face. As he saw me, an expression of joy then horror passed over his face.
“Emily!” he whispered. “What are you doing here? Don’t you know how dangerous this is for you? If they find you, they’ll kill you.”
He pushed me back into the room that had been my hiding place, closing the door silently and quickly behind us.
“Theo, I’m sorry,” I started to say, but his lips were upon mine, kissing me with a passion and ferocity that touched my soul.
I responded with equal passion, feeling his energy and radiance fill my being, consuming me, possessing me. I was lost in his kiss, lost in the strange existence of Theo’s world, love and desire burning within me. The moth had reached the flame and I didn’t care if it destroyed me.
Suddenly, he broke away.
“Emily, no,” he spoke breathlessly. “We can’t do this. You have no idea what you’re getting into, how high the stakes are…”
His piercing blue eyes stared into mine and I saw an eternity of suffering, torment and pain within him.
“I can’t let this happen…” he began to say, when voices outside the door stopped him.
We listened in horror as Aquila’s rasping voice spoke, “Pantera, I heard voices, I tell you…”
“It was probably our guests,” came Pantera’s reply.
“May be,” answered Aquila, “but we can’t leave anything to chance.”
Theo indicated the wardrobe at the side of the room and silently pulled open one of its heavy wooden doors. Just in time, we concealed ourselves within, pulling the door shut, as Aquila flung open the door to the room. For a few seconds, time stood still as he looked around and I held my breath, praying he wouldn’t detect our presence or hear my heart beating with the ferocity of an express train. Eventually, he went out and we could hear him moving down the corridor, opening other doors and looking into rooms.
We heard Pantera call out, “Aquila, did you find anything?” and from down the corridor, his answer, “No, I think you were right. It must have been guests.”
Then we heard her say, “Come Aquila, we need to secure the casket and the room. Then I’ll take a look outside.” There was a muffled sound of another door closing and then it was quiet.
“Quickly,” said Theo, opening the door of the wardrobe. “We don’t have much time. I have to get you out of here.”
“I’m sorry, Theo,” I started to say, but he cut me short.
“Not now, Emily, I need to think.”
He walked over to the doorway, opened it cautiously and peered out.
“Okay,” he whispered to me, “come quickly before they return.”
I followed him out, and the next minute we were walking rapidly along the corridor, our feet sinking into the plush dark blue carpet, down the old servants’ stairway and onto the main landing. My blue cloak billowed behind me and I gathered it close, pulling the hood down over my face. Theo led the way past the top of the main stairway and onto the other corridor that lead to the right. He indicated a doorway.
“In here, Emily, you’ll be safe for a while. This is just a store room.”
Looking around to make sure we were alone, he quickly opened the door and we crept in, breathless and tense. Theo closed the door and turned towards me.
“Now perhaps you’ll tell me what you are doing here, despite my warnings?”
I threw back the hood. “I’m sorry, Theo,” I whispered, “I had to find out what was going on.”
“And what did you see?” he asked urgently.
I bit my lip.
“I saw a lot of old people, all stooped and grey. I saw them going up the old servants’ stairway and along the corridor, up the spiral stairway that I assume leads to the Clock Tower. I saw a bright blue light shining down and then I saw the old folk emerging, rejuvenated. They were glowing, Theo. How did that happen?”
He thought for a second, then asked me, “What do you think? Do you have any idea?”
“Well, I don’t think you’re vampires…” I began.
“Vampires?” He laughed dismissively. “Who wants to be a vampire and drink blood for eternity? What we have discovered is far more seductive and a great deal more dangerous.”
“Then what is it, Theo? What have you discovered? You have to tell me ….”
He put both hands around my face and looked into my eyes. “Not tonight, Emily,” he said. “I will tell you, I promise, but not tonight. There’s no time. I have to get you out of here, before you’re discovered.”
He looked so beautiful and so vulnerable, it was all I could do not to kiss him again.
“Keep the cloak on,” he advised, “but keep your head down and don’t speak to anyone. I’ll let you out of one of the side doors. Don’t go down the main driveway. Go past the Clock Tower to the circular fountain. There, you’ll find the newly cleared pathway to the church. Take that pathway. If you feel anyone is following you, get to the church and stay there until daylight comes. You’ll be safe in there.”
“Theo, you’re frightening me,” I said. “Can’t you come with me?”
“Emily, I want to come with you,” he took my hands in his, “but I can’t. I’d be missed. And it’s not safe for you to stay. You cannot be discovered. It would mean certain death.”
I swallowed. “Okay, I’ll go.”
I drew the thick velvet cloak around me, and Theo carefully pulled up the hood. For a second, he gazed into my eyes, then his lips were upon mine kissing me hungrily and passionately. Despite, or because of, the danger, I responded with an intensity I had never known before, and as our lips fused together, I felt our souls touch and unite. If I didn’t make it, this might be my last encounter with Theo, the love of my life, my reason for being, and my future, if destiny allowed. I could feel Theo’s energy, his life force, filling my body with a spiritual consummation that possessed every fibre of my being.
But time was against us and he broke away, pain and anxiety etched across his beautiful face.
“You must go, Emily, before it’s too late.”
Silently, he arranged the hood so that it hung over my face, concealing my features.
“Say nothing to anyone,” he cautioned. “Walk slowly and purposefully. Don’t draw attention to yourself.”
He opened the door and looked out.
“All clear,” he said. “Let’s go.”
He led the way along the corridor to the head of the main stairway and slowly, we started to walk down. Fortunately, there was some kind of commotion going on in the reception area that was claiming the attention of all present.
A male guest appeared to have collapsed on the floor and others were tending to him. I could see a figure in a black dinner suit lying on the black and white tiles, his legs splayed out awkwardly, with others leaning over him.
I saw a beautiful woman in a red ballgown, with blond hair piled high and long red gloves, say tearfully to Viyesha, “He arrived too late. There was a delay in his travel arrangements and he arrived too late. This is our worst nightmare. Is there nothing we can do for him?”
Viyesha put a protective arm around her shoulders and I heard her saying softy, “No. I’m sorry. The power of the Blue Moon has passed. There is nothing more that can be done.”
The red gowned woman stifled a sob, and there was a collective gasp from all those who attended the man. I felt Theo’s hand on my waist, guiding me past the assembled guests and projecting me forward. As I walked around the edge of the crowd, a sudden gap presented itself between the guests and I was able to see the man.
It was all I could do not to cry out in horror.
I saw a wizened, shrunken face, surrounded by wispy white hair. His mouth was open as if gasping for air, his claw-like hands were up round his throat as if he’d been trying to open his shirt. That he was dead was bad enough, but in the brief glimpse I had of him, I saw him decay before my eyes. I saw the flesh disintegrate on his face, falling into his cheekbones, I saw his eyeballs dry out and shrink, leaving two cavernous eye sockets, and I saw his lips draw back to reveal yellowed, blackened teeth in a hideous grin. The man was turning into a skeleton before my eyes.
For a second I was frozen with fear, unable to move another step, then once again I felt Theo’s firm hand behind me, guiding me forward. I moved on autopilot, incapable of rational thought. The next thing I knew we were in a small passageway and Theo was opening a door.
I felt the cold night air on my face and heard Theo say, “Go left past the Clock Tower, keep going until you reach the fountain, then take the pathway through the woods to the church. Go quickly.”
The door closed behind me and I was on my own.
Instinctively, I kept close to the walls of Hartswell Hall, bearing to the left until I reached the Clock Tower. The mist had lifted and a magnificent full moon filled the night sky, providing all the illumination I could ask for. Looking up at the turreted upper windows of the Tower, I could see a faint blue light and I knew that was where the guests had been. There was no time to linger and I ran on, reaching the circular feature in just a few minutes. Amazingly, it had been transformed into a beautiful fountain, the water spraying upwards to a height of about two metres, glinting seductively in the moonlight before falling back into the dark waters below, where I saw the silver moon clearly reflected, shimmering in the rippling water.
Fleetingly aware that it was impossible to have renovated the fountain in such a short time, I kept moving.
Behind the fountain was the pathway, leading through the woodland, the undergrowth cleared away and fresh bark laid down to create a good walking surface. I knew it wasn’t far to the church, no more than a few hundred metres, but it seemed to take an eternity, my breath shallow and harsh, my heart beating fast, the blood rushing in my ears. The woodland was alive around me, every rustle, every sound making me jump.
Then the church was in front of me and I ran as if possessed through the graveyard, along the ancient path that led past the vestry, until I reached its main doors, praying silently that they would be open. I turned the old metal door ring and thanked all the angels in heaven when the huge old studded door opened before me.
Quickly, I pushed it wide and fell into the church.
As I turned to close the door, I glanced into the graveyard, where the gravestones glinted spookily in the moonlight. There, in the undergrowth, I saw two huge yellow eyes watching me. With a cry, I slammed the church door shut, dropped the latch and fell sobbing to the floor.