PART THREE – KNOWLEDGE
22. Kimberley Chartreuse
In her Leicestershire mansion, Kimberley Chartreuse (aka Wendy Tubbs) lay back amidst her white silk sheets on her monster-sized waterbed and looked contemptuously at husband number four. He was obedient and biddable, but boring as hell, as she’d found out too late, just after they’d got married.
It had seemed a huge laugh at first. Queen of Glamour gets hitched to Prince of the Reality World. He’d been a big hit on his reality TV show and everybody wanted a piece of Mikey-Boy. Including her. But once all the hype had been stripped back and his physical charms had started to fade, she’d found he was just a handsome husk with nothing between the ears.
He’d served a purpose, she supposed. Her ratings had been dropping slowly but surely, not catastrophically, but enough to get her agent worried.
“We need a big event, Kimberley,” he’d said, in his flat Black Country accent. “I don't care what it is. Well, not another breast enlargement. Perhaps husband number four? Someone that’s current you can ride on the back of, as it were.”
“Who d’you have in mind, Danny?” she’d asked
He’d twiddled his cigar and said, “Mikey-Boy, of course. He’s hot, he’s single and he’s gagging for you.”
She’d grinned, liking the sound of it and after that it had been easy. Leave it to the agents. They’d sorted everything: the first date, the declaration of love, the disagreement, the reconciliation, the proposal, the engagement and the wedding. The media had been alerted at every stage and it had worked a treat. Her ratings had soared and she was back on top. Even the national news had given her coverage. She was an icon, a national treasure, the darling of young girls everywhere.
For a time, it had been enough.
She’d had more modelling assignments than ever, a new TV show, her own brand of Forever Youthful make-up and perfume and enough product endorsements to last a lifetime. Whatever she touched became gold. The money poured in and her coffers were overflowing. She skied in Saint Moritz, sunbathed in Saint Tropez, cruised on a yacht, had a hair stylist in London, a Botox technician in LA and a costumier in Paris. All the usual clichés you needed to buy into the jet set.
But just recently, things had started to slip.
What had once been effortless, now seemed tiring. What had once been easy, was now hard work. Upward and onward had always been her motto. Now she felt gravity pulling her downward.
It was Mikey-Boy who’d first lit the blue touch-paper, which was when she realised just how much she despised him. They’d been invited to yet another celebrity function, some party or dinner or opening or first night, she really couldn’t remember. She’d been getting ready to go out, preening in front of the mirror, admiring her long, shapely legs, tight ass, flat stomach and voluptuous chest. Mikey-Boy had watched, fascinated: Kimberley Chartreuse, the living Barbie Doll, everything fake, everything false, from the sprayed on tan to the enormous, double ‘F’ bazoomers.
Then, horror of horrors, he’d leant forward, looked closely and said, “You’re getting lines! You’re showing your age.”
She’d frozen him with an icy stare, walked out without speaking and had hated him ever since.
That night, when she got back, she’d sat in front of her dressing room mirror for an hour and studied her face. She had a permanent trout pout thanks to too many collagen injections, she’d been under the knife more times than she could remember and it seemed every few weeks she was rushing off for a bit of ‘bo’.
“God, how I hate getting old,” she moaned to the mirror. “If he’s noticed it, others will, and I know what the press are like. They’ll seize on every little wrinkle.”
She picked up her cell phone and brought up an app that showed how you’d look as you got older. With trembling fingers, she selected a photograph of herself and, at the press of a button, watched her face transform into that of an old witch, creased and lined, hanging and drooping, everything going south. With a cry, she threw the phone across the room.
The thought of having to hide her ageing face made her feel physically sick.
“I was made for the limelight,” she declared. “I need people, I need fans, I need to be adored.”
She retrieved her phone and dialled her agent’s number.
“Danny? It’s Kimberley. I need you to do something. It’s urgent and it’s top secret…”
Danny listened silently as Kimberley outlined her requirements, then he puffed on his cigar and smiled.
“I know just the person. Leave it to me.”
23. Truth
At seven in the morning, I figured it was safe to open the church door. It was going to be a gorgeous day. The sun had already risen, streaking the few clouds that drifted across the sky with golden light, and all seemed fresh and clean and new.
I breathed in deeply, and looked around. The gravestones were serene and peaceful in the morning light, dew lay on the grass and birds sang in the trees. It was the kind of morning that made you glad to be alive, all the more so for looking out over a graveyard. I peered at the bushes, but could see nothing ominous or threatening. No evil yellow eyes stared back at me and I began to wonder if I’d imagined it. I daren’t even start to process what I’d experienced, I needed to get home and surround myself with the routine of everyday life.
More than anything, I needed time to sit and think, and decide what to do. I didn’t know when I’d next see Theo and I had to be prepared when I did.
I was still wearing the long blue velvet cloak and now I took it off and folded it carefully. Carrying it under my arm, I stepped out of the church and closed the heavy oak door behind me.
Ten minutes later I was back at home, creeping up the stairs and into my room. I hid the velvet cloak at the bottom of my wardrobe, pulled off my clothes and took a long, hot shower. I luxuriated in the hot water, feeling it wash the excitement, the fear and the passion of last night out of my system, and emerged feeling calmer, cleansed and able to think more clearly. I realised I was famished and, donning my dressing gown, went downstairs to have some breakfast. I made myself a large bowl of porridge, followed by a boiled egg on toast.
‘Now I feel more human,’ I said to myself, then shuddered at the thought.
Those people last night, surely they weren’t human? But if they weren’t, then what were they exactly? Theo had scoffed at the idea of vampires. So were they some kind of aliens? Let’s face it, I’d witnessed some very old people being transformed into young, beautiful beings, without blemish or imperfection. And Theo was one of them. As were all the members of his family.
I loved Theo to distraction and had never experienced such feelings of intensity and love as I had last night. But what had I fallen in love with? And where did that leave me? Theo had been most insistent I leave the hall as quickly as possible. He said I was in terrible danger. Was I still in danger? Or could Theo keep my presence last night a secret? Surely, if no one knew I’d been there, I was safe, wasn’t I? Or did I really see two yellow eyes watching me in the graveyard? And if I did, who was it? And did they know I’d been at the Blue Moon Ball?
I didn't have any answers. The only person who did was Theo and I had to wait until I saw him again before I knew what they were.
My mum came into the breakfast room.
“Hi, Emily, you’re up early,” she said, in surprise.
“Hi Mum, I couldn’t sleep.”
That was the truth, I didn’t mention I’d never been to bed.
She examined her face in the mirror on the breakfast room wall and exclaimed, “God, I’m looking old. I’m going to need a facelift soon.” She stretched the skin upwards with her fingers. “There, that looks better, doesn’t it?”
I stared at her in alarm. “Old is good, mum, don’t worry about ageing naturally. Take it from me, you’re fine the way you are.”
She stared at me in amazement.
“Well, thanks, Emily, I didn’t know you felt so stron
gly on the subject.”
“I don’t,” I back-tracked, “it’s just there’s nothing wrong with getting old gracefully. Anyway, if you’re worried, I’ve got this really good facial stuff Tash gave me. Made from beer. Makes your skin feel amazing. Allegedly.”
“So, you haven’t actually used it?”
“No, but look at Tash’s face. Her skin is amazing, you have to agree.”
“Alright, I’ll give it a go. Leave it out in the bathroom for me.”
“Okay. Always remember, mum, natural is best.”
“Er, haven’t I been saying that for years? Every time you attempted to go out plastered in make-up?” she said, looking at me strangely.
“That was in my Goth phase last year,” I informed her. “I am so over that now. Can’t you tell?”
“Yes, I think I might have spotted that. I must say, your current look is a huge improvement. In fact, just recently, you’ve been positively glowing. Must be love….”
It was definitely time to change the subject. This was getting into cringe territory.
“Is Granddad up yet?” I asked.
“No,” answered my mum, pouring a cup of tea and looking concerned, “he’s not too good. He says he’s going to stay in bed today.”
“It could be the virus I had,” I suggested. “We need to build him up with home-made chicken broth.”
“Yes, let’s do that,” my mother smiled at me. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. He’s made of strong stuff.”
“I'll take him a cup of tea,” I offered, jumping up and going into the kitchen. I needed to stay occupied, I felt jittery and on edge. I made the tea, dark and strong, just how he liked it, and carried it upstairs, knocking on his door.
“Come in,” said a weak voice inside.
It was dark in the bedroom, so I opened the curtains just enough to let in a little light.
“How are you Gramps?” I asked, looking down at him.
I was quite shocked by his appearance. He seemed to have aged since I’d last seen him, which had only been the day before. He lay back on his pillows, looking frail and ill. His eyes were watery and bloodshot, his face thinner with an unnatural flush to his cheeks, and his forehead was shiny with perspiration.
“I’ve felt better, Emily,” he said, smiling feebly and struggling to sit up. “It’s this old body. Can’t fight off the germs as well as I used to. It’s probably nothing more than a cold, a few days in bed will see me right.”
I looked at him with concern. He seemed to be breathless and struggled to get out his words.
“Do you want me to ring for the doctor?” I asked, feeling somewhat inept.
“No,” he said sharply, “I’ve no need of the quack. You know what he’d say: ‘Rest, drink lots of liquids, take paracetamol. ‘Can’t treat a virus, your body has to fight it off.’ It’s always the same.”
There was no telling my Granddad. He was one of that generation who had no faith in the medical profession and certainly not the village doctor. In Granddad’s book, there was no better medicine than fresh air, good food and a whisky nightcap. It had seen him in good stead so far, and he wasn’t going to change the pattern of a lifetime.
“Okay. Shall I bring you up some breakfast?” I asked.
“Not just yet,” he answered wearily. “Let me come round a bit first. I’ll be down for breakfast when I’m ready.”
“Alright,” I said, walking to the door, “but if you want anything, just shout. I’ll bring you a nice bowl of porridge, a bacon sandwich, whatever you want.”
“Maybe,” he said, looking exhausted.
I closed the door to his bedroom and went back downstairs.
“Gramps doesn’t look too good,” I informed my mother. “He says he doesn’t want the doctor, so what d’you think we should do?”
“You know what he’s like,” answered my mother. “Don’t worry, I’ll look after him. I can work from home today, and you need to get to college.”
College! I’d completely forgotten about it. Somehow, with everything that had happened, it seemed more like a weekend. Now, I realised it was Friday and I had just ten minutes to catch the bus. I tore upstairs, ripped off my dressing gown and flung on my clothes, and got to the stop with just a minute to spare.
“You look like you’ve been up all night,” observed Tash, which didn’t make me feel any better.
How I wished I could have told her what I’d experienced the night before. Never had I needed a friend to confide in more than now. But how could I? For a start, it sounded incredible. Old people going into a room with a blue light and coming out young… What would I think if someone told me that? Either they were winding me up or had been drinking. Then, there was the danger element, which was a great deal more worrying. If I really wasn’t safe, then I couldn’t drag Tash or Seth into this. I’d chosen to go to the Blue Moon Ball, despite all the warnings. I’d seen more than a few things that didn’t add up at Hartswell Hall, and yet I’d still gone back, aware that something strange was going on. I simply couldn’t involve my friends.
Tash had been right to be suspicious of Theo, but she had no idea what was really going on. I had to wait until I’d spoken with Theo, then decide whether to tell them.
The day passed uneventfully and I had great difficult staying awake, particularly in the Modern History lecture. Mr Greaves’ monotone voice droned on soporifically, citing battles and dates and theory and strategy until everything blended together and I couldn’t stop myself dozing off, prompting his sarcastic comment, “Are we keeping you up Miss Morgan? Please don’t let my lecture interfere with your need to nap.”
The end of the day couldn’t come soon enough and I gratefully climbed onto the bus, feeling worn out and drained. Never had I been happier to get home and I slumped against the front door once it was closed, hanging my head and staring at the carpet.
“Are you alright, Emily?” asked my mother, walking into the hall. “You look done in. I hope you’re not coming down with that virus again. They do say viruses come back if you do too much.”
“No, I’m fine, mum,” I answered, “just tired. How’s Granddad? Is he any better? Can I go up and see him?”
“Leave him be for the moment,” she advised. “He’s sleeping and I think it’s better not to wake him. He’s had a reasonable day… came down this afternoon for a couple of hours and had a bowl of soup. I’m sure he’ll feel better tomorrow.”
She put her coat on. “I have to pop out for a while. I need to return my library books and pop in to the vicarage. Can you listen out for Granddad waking up and, if he does, see if he needs anything?”
“Yes, of course,” I said, stifling a yawn. “I’ll see you later.”
“Bye, love,” she kissed the top of my head and was walking out of the front door, when she turned to me and called back, “Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell you, Theo called.”
A bolt of adrenalin shot through my system. “What?” I asked, suddenly wide awake. “What did he say? Why didn’t he call my cell phone?”
“He says he tried, but you weren’t answering, so he called the landline instead. He said not to call him, he’ll call back. Now, I must go. See you later.”
She walked up the front pathway and I shut the door behind her. I searched frantically for my cell phone but couldn't find it anywhere. In a panic, I remembered photographing the beautiful people the night before. That was the last time I’d used it. I’d been so tired today, I hadn’t even missed it. I couldn’t lose my phone.
In desperation, I searched my pockets and my backpack, then ran upstairs and searched my bedroom, pulling out the clothes I’d worn the previous evening, looking under the bed and in the bathroom. But it was nowhere to be seen.
I sat on my bed with my head in my hands, various scenarios racing through my mind. Could I have dropped it at Hartswell Hall? That was worst-case scenario, particularly if it fell into the wrong hands and they saw the pictures I’d taken. Could I have dropped it while runn
ing through the woods, or while I was in the church? There was nothing for it, I would have to go back and search. But I couldn’t leave Granddad. I paced across my bedroom, feeling powerless and afraid, willing my mother to come back. I had to find my phone.
Just as I heard my mother’s key in the lock, the landline rang downstairs. I heard her pick up and answer as she walked in to the hallway. Jumping down the stairs, two at a time, I nearly collided with her as she handed me the receiver.
“It’s for you,” she said. “It’s Theo.”
“Hello,” I said, walking quickly into the lounge and shutting the door behind me. This was one conversation I didn’t want my mother overhearing. “Theo?”
“Hi Emily,” he said. “Where’ve you been? I’ve been trying to call you all day.”
“Sorry,” I said, “I’ve lost my phone. I can’t find it anywhere.” I couldn’t bring myself to tell him I’d taken pictures of his guests with it the night before. It seemed too voyeuristic.
“How are you?” he asked. “You obviously made it back to the church okay.”
“Yes,” I answered, unable also to tell him about the two yellow eyes I thought I’d seen in the undergrowth watching me. Now it just seemed ridiculous.
“Emily, I need to see you…”
My heart was thumping in my chest.
“Okay,” I said, wanting to say so much, but hardly able to speak. I didn’t know where to start, so I let him take the lead.
“Are you alright?” he asked again.
“I don’t know, Theo, I’m very confused.”
There was a silence before he said, “Can you meet me tonight? In the church?”
“Yes,” I said breathlessly, “What time?”
“11 o’clock. Our guests are in the process of leaving. I should be able to get away by then.”
“Is it safe?” I asked.
“Emily,” he sighed, “Nothing is safe.” And the line went dead.
At ten minutes to eleven, I started out for the church.
It was the second time this evening. Earlier on, I’d searched inside the church and along the pathway, looking for my phone, but it was nowhere to be found. I’d encountered Father James, just finishing evening prayer, who was somewhat confused at the likelihood of my phone being in the church, given my lack of attendance at services, but he said he’d look out for it.
I told my mum I was going to bed, and guiltily putting a pillow under the blankets to resemble my sleeping form, I crept quietly down the stairs. Granddad was sleeping peacefully in his room and my mother sat watching a comedy show on TV in the lounge, the canned laughter so loud she didn’t hear me open the front door and close it carefully behind me.
I walked on tiptoes up the front pathway, then started to run down the road and didn’t stop until I reached the old Lych Gate leading to the church. I looked around furtively, feeling suddenly scared I’d see yellow eyes watching me. It was a cloudy night and the moon was obliterated, so there was very little natural light. I stepped through the Lych Gate and into the graveyard. The undergrowth that surrounded the graveyard was black and impenetrable, which only increased my fear.
Why had Theo suggested we meet here? Of all places, it was the scariest. But also the safest, a little voice in my head reminded me.
Forcing myself to breathe slowly and walking with my head high, I made my way towards the church, passing the vestry and along the church’s east wall, before reaching the entrance. Quickly, I turned the heavy iron door ring and pushed open the door, just as the clock was striking eleven o’clock in the bell tower. The church was in darkness and I faltered as I closed the door behind me, dropping the iron latch into place. What if it was a trap?
Almost immediately, I heard a voice to my left. “Emily, I’m here. Don’t turn on the lights. Come this way.”
I felt Theo’s hand reach for mine and lead me into the church. We seemed to be going down the central aisle and into the nave, past the choir stall and organ pipes, and up to the high altar. As my eyes grew accustomed to the dark, I could just make out Theo’s blond hair ahead of me.
He led me to the wall on the right hand side of the nave, where a large tapestry hung. He lifted it up, revealing an arched recess and door concealed behind it, and placed a key in the lock. He turned it and the door swung inwards. He stepped in, pulling me with him and I heard the door close behind us. It was pitch black and smelled dry and dusty. I guessed we were in a passageway, but didn’t feel brave enough to put out a hand and feel the walls.
Almost immediately, Theo said, “There are spiral steps leading down. Put your right hand on the wall and you’ll find a handrail. Keep hold of it as you go down, it’s quite steep.”
I let go of his hand and did as he said. My hand touched an old stone wall, with large, uneven bricks. I ran my fingers down until they touched a handrail. It felt like polished wood and I guessed it had been worn smooth by generations of hands holding on to it as they descended.
“Where are we going, Theo?” I whispered.
“To the vault,” he whispered back to me. “It was the safest place I could think of.”
For the next couple of minutes, I concentrated on holding the handrail tightly and putting one foot in front of another as the spiral steps led down and round. It was not a pleasant experience in the pitch darkness and I was glad when my feet touched a flat, even surface.
I heard Theo say, “That’s it. We’re at the bottom of the steps.”
Then there was the sound of a door being opened in front of us, the hinges creaking loudly, and I felt Theo’s hand reach for mine and pull me forward. The air smelt dry and stale, as if untouched for many years, but it was still pitch black and I could see nothing until Theo struck a match. In the faint glow, I could see a small room, maybe three metres square. He lit two candles, placed in a recess hewn into the thick stone walls, and I was able to make out an arched ceiling above us, and two more recesses containing old books, candlesticks and some ancient tools. An empty shelving system stood against one wall and apart from that, there was little else of interest. I was very relieved to see an absence of coffins. I didn’t think I would have been able to stay for a chat if I was sharing the room with mouldering old skeletons.
“Where are the coffins?” I asked Theo, whispering in the gloom. “I thought this was a vault.”
“They were removed a long time ago,” he whispered back. “This room isn’t used for anything now. I don’t think many people know it exists.”
“Except you,” I pointed out.
“Yes. And Joseph. He discovered it when he was looking at some old plans. It links to the hall.”
“You mean there’s a secret passage way?” I asked, incredulously. This was like an Enid Blyton story, or it would have been if it weren’t so scary.
“Yes,” said Theo, “there’s another door over there, under that tapestry, leading to the hall.”
“Is that how you got here?” I asked, walking to the ancient tapestry covering the wall and lifting a corner. Sure enough, there was a door behind it.
“Yes, it seemed the easiest way. I didn’t want anybody to see me leaving.”
“Are your guests still there?” I asked, pulling the tapestry back into place.
“They’re getting ready to go, so I won’t be missed for a while. But I don’t have long.”
I turned to him. “Theo, what I saw last night…”
“I know,” he said, “you need an explanation. And I’ll do my best to tell you everything, but I must be back before midnight.”
As yet, apart from holding hands, we’d kept our distance from one another. Now, I yearned to be held by him, to kiss him, for things to be normal, to say last night had all been a misunderstanding, and they’d been playing a strange kind of party game. I looked at him closely, so ethereally beautiful in the flickering candlelight, his skin smooth and white, his hair golden and his eyes large and dark. I felt the energy around him, almost crackling in its intensity
and experienced the most intense desire within me, heightened by the darkness, the mystery and the danger surrounding us. But there was no time for embracing. I had questions that needed answering and the clock was against us.
“Go on,” I demanded. “Tell me what’s going on… Who you are? What are you?”
He hesitated for a moment, then started to speak.
“What you saw last night really happened. You saw old people being rejuvenated, their youth, vitality and beauty restored. You also saw what happened to the one that didn’t make it. You saw him decay before your eyes, and that is the danger facing us all, unless we bathe in the light given out by the crystal of eternal youth.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “What? Are having me on? This sounds more like some kind of weird science fiction story.”
“Emily, believe me. It’s true.” Theo’s voice became more urgent. “You need to know, so you can understand the danger you’re in.”
“Carry on,” I said, hardly able to believe what I was hearing.
“It began many thousands of years ago, in the time of the Ancient Egyptians. It was 1350 BC and Viyesha was a High Priestess in the reign of the heretical king, Amenophis IV-Akhenaten.”
I cut in, my voice scathing, “You mean Viyesha is thousands of years old?” Now I really was having difficulty suspending my disbelief.
“Emily, you have to listen,” said Theo patiently, “I don’t have long.” He took a deep breath and continued, “Viyesha was the daughter of a slave girl and, amidst a nation of dark-skinned people, was revered for her white-blond hair, blue eyes and pale skin. She grew up in the palace of Queen Nefertiti at Amarna, and when she was thirteen, she became a High Priestess in the temple at Akhenaten, known today as Tell el-Amarna. The temple was dedicated to the worship of Amun-Ra, the Hidden One, God of Eternal Life, and it was said that a powerful crystal, kept within the temple’s inner sanctum, was a gift from the God himself and had the power of bestowing eternal life. As High Priestess, Viyesha had made a sacred vow with Amun-Ra to keep the crystal safe and protect it with her life. All was well until the king, also known as Akhenaten, prohibited the worship of Amun-Ra and insisted, on pain of death, that his people worshipped Aten, the Solar Globe. Viyesha fled from the temple, in fear of her life, taking with her the precious blue crystal and escaping into the mountains.”
He paused, but I remained silent and he continued with the story.
“For a number of years, she lived alone in a cave, guarding the crystal. Every so often, she would take it out and run her fingers over its hard, smooth facets, and every time she did so, she experienced the most exquisite feelings of energy, well-being and power. When she looked at her reflection in a nearby pool, her skin was glowing, her eyes bright and her hair shining. She had never felt or looked so amazing. Occasionally, followers of Amun-Ra would visit her secretly and ask after the crystal, but fearing spies from the king, she could trust no one and always denied its existence. Over time, it fell into the realms of myth. Still she guarded it, touching it only once a year, to renew the feelings of well-being and vitality that it promoted within her. The revelation of the crystal’s true power came in the year 1332 BC, when Viyesha was 30 years old. It was the night of a Blue Moon, an important and mystical event in the ancient calendar. As she brought out the crystal to touch it, the moon’s rays fell upon it, activating its hidden properties. Blue flames leapt from the crystal and Viyesha was bathed in their brilliant blue light. She felt like never before. Renewed, restored, rejuvenated. After this, she stopped ageing. As all around her began to show signs of the passing years, she maintained her youth and beauty. Now, at last she understood the meaning of the strange hieroglyphic in the temple’s inner sanctum: a circle crossed through by an infinity sign.”
“The same sign on the back of the cloaks and on the Clock Tower,” I declared, “and I saw it again on the shoulder of one of your guests.”
“We all bear the mark of the crystal,” said Theo. “I, too, have such a symbol on my shoulder. It glows brightly or grows dim, depending on the lunar cycle. But let me finish my story, Emily. I don’t have much time. Two years after Viyesha had discovered the crystal’s power, the king died under mysterious circumstances and was succeeded by Tutankhamun, who proceeded to reinstate the cult of Amun-Ra.”
“D’you mean the famous Tutankhamun? The one whose tomb was found by Howard Carter in 1922?” I asked, remembering amazing pictures of the golden and blue death mask.
“The same,” replied Theo. “Viyesha shared her knowledge of the crystal’s power with Tutankhamun. He told her he would start using the crystal’s power in his eighteenth year, but before he could do so, he fell ill and died, some say murdered. Fearing for her life once again, Viyesha took the crystal and disappeared.”
At this point, I interrupted. “It’s a brilliant story, Theo, but do you really expect me to believe Viyesha is over three thousand years old? Even ‘vampires’ is a more believable story than that. And if she’s three thousand, how old are you?”
“My story is for another time,” he said, hurriedly. “I must get back, but there are things I still need to say.”
“Go on, then,” I said, my mind reeling. I still thought it was some kind of elaborate joke.
“To maintain our youth,” he continued, “we must bathe in the light that emanates from the blue crystal when it is at its most powerful, at the time of the Blue Moon….” he paused, “…an event that happens once every three years or so, in a year which has thirteen full moons.”
“And if you don’t, you age rapidly and die,” I said, thinking of the unfortunate guest.
“Exactly,” said Theo. “Ageing and death occurs within minutes.”
“So your guests…” I said slowly, “all those famous people that I recognised last night….those distinguished men and women…”
He finished my sentence, “…. have all been rejuvenated using the blue crystal. Each one of them enjoys eternal youth… more accomplished, more beautiful and more charismatic than ever before, all blemishes, imperfections and irregularities removed.”
“But why them?” I had to ask. “Why were they selected?”
Theo smiled ruefully. “Some because we chose them, others because they can afford it. Eternal youth doesn’t come cheap, Emily. Privilege and opportunity has always been the domain of the super-rich.”
“And you can trust them to keep the secret?” I asked. “Surely they could sell the information and make millions?”
He laughed. “Money has no meaning to them. They have all the wealth they need. They count currency in something far more valuable: longevity. Besides, each one has sworn never to reveal the secret of the crystal, or be cast out and face annihilation.”
“Cast out by whom?”
He looked down and considered his words before replying. “The Lunari,” he replied, “the order that was formed many years ago to protect the crystal.”
“Lunari?” I echoed, remembering the strange chanting from the previous night.
“You must understand,” said Theo, “this is a secret that can never get out. If it fell into the wrong hands, its power could be abused and employed as a destructive force. Nations have fought wars for less. The Lunari exists to ensure this never happens. And if they find that anyone has gained knowledge of the crystal whom they have not initiated, they take immediate steps to eradicate the threat.”
“Eradicate is a strong word,” I said. “These Lunari people… do they know about me? Were they at the Blue Moon Ball?”
“No, they weren’t at the Ball. They have their own means of ensuring their immortality and have no need of a blue moon. For the moment, I believe they don’t know of your existence. We have contained the information, but the Guardians are unhappy.”
“And they are?” I asked, although I suspected I already knew the answer.
“Aquila and Pantera,” he answered. “You may not know it but you have been under surveillance for some time. They
are shape shifters appointed by The Lunari to safeguard the crystal and advise of any threat they detect. The Lunari have given them absolute power to destroy where necessary.”
“Shape shifters,” I repeated. “You mean people who can assume other forms?”
“Yes, Aquila becomes a black Eastern eagle who sees everything, and Pantera a black panther, with exceptional speed and strength…”
“And large yellow eyes?” I asked.
“Why yes,” said Theo, puzzled. “You’ve seen her?”
“I think so,” I swallowed. “I think she may have seen me entering the church last night, although the hood was pulled around my face, so she may not have identified me. There again, if they have the authority to kill and I’m such a threat, why am I still here?”
“Because you have protection,” said Theo, reaching over and hooking the silver chain that hung around my neck with his finger. The blue crystal shone in the candlelight, its many facets sparkling and twinkling.
“Is that…?” I started to say and Theo smiled.
“Yes, it’s a tiny fragment of the big crystal. We all wear them. They give us protection. As long as you wear this, Aquila and Pantera cannot touch you.”
“And you wear one as well,” I said, “but yours has a white cameo placed at its centre… bearing the picture of the girl who looks like me…”
Theo looked into my eyes. “Emily, the girl doesn’t just look like you. I believe it is you.”
“What do you mean?” I cried, “I’ve never met you before.”
“It’s a long story and one I don’t have time to tell now,” he said. “But many, many years ago, I met a girl who was the very image of you. I loved her more than life itself, but something happened and I lost her. I thought I would never see her again, until the day I went to Hartsdown College and there you were. We shook hands and the connection was there, do you remember?”
“How could I forget?” I murmured. “You gave me an electric shock.”
“The energy is there between us, the same energy that existed before. Believe me, I fought against it. I didn’t want to endanger you and risk losing you again. But the pull was too great. I had to be with you.”
“How did you lose this girl? What happened?”
“That is something I will tell you another time. I cannot speak of it now.”
This was all getting too much to take in. I needed time and space to digest what he was saying. But there was more…
“Emily, you’re not just at risk from The Lunari.”
“Great, this gets better and better. Who else wants to get rid of me?”
“We have enemies,” he said flatly. “There are those that know of the crystal’s existence and would steal it from us. We call them the Dark Ones, shadow beings who live by dark means, who crave the crystal’s light to assume human form. Some, known as The Reptilia, have achieved a low evolutionary form; others remain dark creatures of anti-matter, parasites who leach the life-force out of living beings to stay alive. We call them Feeders. All are malignant and deadly, and would stop at nothing to possess the crystal.”
“But how are they a danger to me?” I asked. “They know nothing about me.”
“These creatures are waiting and watching all the time. They are constantly looking for the crystal. That’s why we had to leave Egypt. It was getting too risky. They will search for any way to gain leverage over us and compel us to hand it over.” He dropped his voice, “Emily, they will exploit any weak link in our armour.”
“And that weak link is me,” I said faintly. “I’m not just in danger from The Lunari and the Guardians, but some kind of weird reptilian shadow creatures who drink human energy and crave human form, who would use me as leverage to get to you.”
I looked into his eyes.
“Theo, please tell me this is some kind of elaborate wind up.”
“I can’t, Emily. I’m sorry. These threats exist. And there may be more: scientists searching for the elixir of life; powerful individuals looking to cheat death; others who would stop at nothing to possess the crystal. That’s why we must protect it at any cost.”
“At any cost,” I repeated after him. “That doesn’t sound good for me. According to what you’ve just said, you'd be better off getting rid of me.”
I looked at him wide-eyed, the enormity of the threat facing me just beginning to dawn. “It would appear I don’t stand a chance. Especially not now you’ve told me everything. At least an hour ago I still had ignorance protecting me.” I glared at him angrily. “Why have you told me all this? Now I have this knowledge, my life really could be in danger.”
He looked at me sadly. “Your life was in danger the first time I brought you back to Hartswell Hall. I should never have done it. But don’t you see? You’ve come back to me. I thought we could be together again.”
I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “For a start, I’m still having difficulty in believing all this. But just supposing it’s true…. I can see only one solution to the problem.”
I paused and bit my lip, then looked him straight in the eye and said, “I have to join you. I have to bathe in the light of the crystal and become one of you. That’s the only way we can be together.”
“No,” he cried, “it’s too risky. The crystal is too powerful and not everyone survives. And if they do, well…… It’s a blessing and a curse. Eternal youth, beauty and special powers are yours, but your whole life is governed by the crystal and the necessity to bathe in its light every Blue Moon. Should you survive the initiation, and many people don’t, how can I put that burden on you?” he broke off, looking desolate.
“Is there any other way?” I asked.
Just as I spoke, we heard the distant chimes of the church clock striking midnight.
“I must go,” he declared anxiously. Placing his hands around my face and looking deeply into my eyes, he said in a broken voice, “Emily, forgive me. I love you. I never wanted to do this to you. I only ever wanted to be with you.”
My mind reeled and a thousand thoughts crowded in at once.
“I need time to think, Theo. This is all too much to take in.”
“I must go,” he said again, “every second I spend here puts you at greater risk. If The Lunari find out about you…”
I stopped him. “They may already know,” I said. “I’ve lost my cell phone. I think I may have dropped in at Hartswell Hall last night. I’ve looked everywhere, but I can’t find it. ”
“You could have left it there on an earlier occasion,” he said. “It doesn't prove you were at The Blue Moon Ball.”
“I’m afraid it does,” I said miserably. “I took photos of the beautiful people as they came out of the light and walked down the corridor. It’s irrefutable proof I was there and I know what is happening.”
I couldn’t mistake the panic in Theo’s eyes.
After he’d left, I spent a cold, sleepless night in the church for the second night running, once again too afraid to leave. This time I understood the threat that existed out there, and the four old stone walls of the church seemed my only sanctuary.
24. Under Threat
Kimberley Chartreuse drummed her perfectly manicured fingers impatiently on the table. She wasn't used to being kept waiting. She was the one who made people wait. Now she was sitting here in this grotty little office in a back street in Digbeth, in down town Birmingham, waiting for some slimy little nobody, who had the temerity to be late. Didn’t he know who she was? She had vaguely toyed with the idea of bringing the cameras with her. It would have made a great storyline for her reality show, but some things she knew had to remain private and, given her reasons for employing this man, this was better handled in the shadows. Pulling out her phone, she impatiently called her agent.
“Danny,” she drawled, in her flat, pseudo transatlantic tones, “I’m still waiting for this joker to turn up. If you've made a mistake, you’re fired, d’you hear me?”
He was prevented from answerin
g by a shuffling and snuffling outside the door. Kimberley clicked off her phone and turned her head, a look of disgust flitting across her features. A middle-aged man in a brown raincoat had opened the door and was blowing his nose loudly on a handkerchief that had clearly seen better days.
“Ms Chartreuse?” he asked, in a down-at-heel, flat Brummie voice. He extended his hand. “I’m the joker you’re waiting to see.”
She made a show of refusing his hand, saying to him coldly, “Mr Nelson? You’re late. I’ve been waiting for over five minutes.”
He grinned at her cheerfully, revealing a row of black and yellow-stained teeth. “Sorry,” he said, making it quite plain he wasn't. “Bit of business to attend to.”
She noted the bottle that stuck out of his pocket, the florid cheeks and the alcohol fumes that wafted across the room. He leered at her appreciatively. “Won’t you sit down? Ah, I see you’ve already made yourself at home.”
She regarded him disdainfully. The man was a fool, a grubby, drunken idiot. She’d made a huge mistake coming here. He sat at the desk opposite her and proceeded to rummage around in a drawer.
“Mr Nelson, I really don’t…” she began, but he interrupted her.
“Aha, here it is” and pulled out a gnarled old pipe which he stuck between his teeth and proceeded to suck on with great vigour. She shuddered and looked at the wall over his head, where an old tattered picture of Columbo was pasted. He saw her glance upwards and said, “Columbo, greatest living detective. I model myself on him. Genius, pure genius.”
“Mr Nelson,” she said icily, “Columbo was a TV detective. He wasn’t real. Everyone knows that.”
“Ya don’t say?” he said in his best Columbo voice, raising one eyebrow at her. “Ya learn somethin’ new everyday.” She looked at him coldly and he sat back, eyeing her with interest.
“Mr Nelson, unless you have anything to tell me, I’m wasting my time.”
He said nothing, just carried on watching her.
Leaning forward over the desk, she whispered through clenched teeth, “I thought you had something for me.”
“All in good time,” he said, enjoying her discomfort. And he grinned at her, until she began to wonder if he was mentally deficient. Suddenly, his grin vanished and he pulled a small, torn notepad out of his pocket and carefully leafed through it.
“Aha,” he declared. “Here it is.”
“Yes?” she demanded, trying to see.
He looked up at her and grinned again. “Fee first, information second. Do you have the cash?”
“Yes, I do,” she said, patting her handbag, “but it’s ‘no information, no fee’.”
Two could play at that game. If he wanted to play hardball, he’d get it.
He regarded her for a second, then said, “Compromise. Half up front, the remainder when you’ve verified the information.”
“Deal”, she said, satisfied, reaching into her large red Jimmy Choo hand haversack and pulled out a thick brown envelope. She tossed it over the table to him. “£25k. Now, what have you got for me?”
At the sight of the money, he snapped into professional mode.
“As I understand it, you were looking to acquire trade secrets of up and coming new health and beauty products; new recipes, latest formulations, herbs, plants, vitamins, minerals, anything, I believe, to help you push back the ageing process?”
“Carry on,” she demanded.
“Oh, we have it all here. Amino acids, Alpha Hydroxy acids, Omega fatty acids, Hyaluronic acid, Glycolic acid, Beta-Glycyrrhetic acid … Green Mussel, Brown Algae, Black Cohosh, alfalfa, allantoin, horsechestnut, calendula, ginseng… Locust Bean Gum seeds, yeast extracts, Grape polyphenols, anthocyanidins, ubiquinol, pycnogenol, bisabobol, silicon … There are creams and peels, serums and scrapes, masques, milks and moisturisers, treatments, toners, cleansers, concentrates, lotions and gels …”
He paused to draw breath.
“There’s ultrasonic cavitation, micro-dermabrasion, radio frequency… mesotherapy, thermotherapy, LED light therapy… micro current therapy, 24 carat gold therapy… not forgetting Far Infra Red therapy for increasing atomic activity, and Cryolipolysis Fat Freezing, with anti-freeze to stop you getting frost bite. Jesus, do you women really go for all this stuff? They used less than this to create Frankenstein.”
He fixed her with a world-weary expression.
“Need I go on?” he asked. “There are a million different products out there, and a million more being researched, each claiming to keep you young, reduce wrinkles, tighten skin, boost collagen, plump you out, firm you up, improve pigmentation, increase density, enhance elasticity, fight ageing… nurture, nourish, soothe, oxidise, repair, replenish, support… and so on and so on and so on.”
“Is that all you’ve got for me?” she asked scornfully. “I know all this. You've told me nothing.”
“Precisely, my dear,” he said, making a revolting popping noise with his pipe. “I could have brought you any manner of new formulations from the latest laboratories in LA, claiming this, that and the other. Industrial espionage is my second name. But d’you really think it’s going to do anything for you? D’you really think a cream or a potion or a lotion is going to halt the ageing process? My dear, you are subject to the laws of physics, as are we all. There is no magical potion that’s going to stop you getting old, other than the surgeon’s knife. And that’s only superficial. Won’t stop your organs ageing.” He leered at her triumphantly.
She smashed her fist down on the table.
“Then what am I paying you for, idiot? To sit there and tell me the bleedin’ obvious? I wanted something new.”
He watched her closely with rheumy, bloodshot eyes. He might go under the guise of an idiot, but he had the survival instincts of a sewer rat and the morals of an alley cat.
“You want something new, Wendy Tubbs,” he rolled the name around on his tongue, “or should I say Kimberley Chartreuse, Queen of the Falsies?” he leered at her suggestively.
“How dare you…” she began, but he cut her short once again.
“I’ll give you something new, lady. Something so unbelievable, it’ll blow your mind, let alone stop you ageing.”
“Really?” she snarled at him. “I doubt that.”
“What if I told you I’d found something that would stop the ageing process altogether, give you eternal youth and beauty so you never need think about using one of these potions ever again?” He had a glint of satisfaction in his eyes.
“I probably wouldn’t believe you,” she admitted. “It sounds too good to be true.”
He smiled. “I’ve had my spies out and about, on the ground, underground, looking, listening, learning… And word has it there’s a cult of people who have found the secret of eternal youth.”
“Really,” said Kimberley in a sceptical voice. “Do you have any proof?”
Mr Nelson didn’t answer. Instead, he took a large brown envelope from his desk and opened it.
“Viyesha and Leon de Lucis,” he said, pulling out a photocopy of a yellowed old press cutting and placing it on the desk. “Tel el Amarna, Egypt, 1955.”
He placed a photocopy of a more recent press cutting next to it. “The same couple. Tel el Amarna, Egypt, 1995.”
Then he placed two colour photographs alongside the press cuttings. “Viyesha and Leon, taken a week ago in the UK.” Looking at Kimberley, he said, “Notice anything strange about these photographs, Wendy Tubbs?”
She gasped and said in a whisper, “They haven’t changed.”
The colour drained from her face and she felt a tremor of excitement in the pit of her stomach.
“Exactly,” said Mr Nelson, triumphantly.
“What more do you know about them?” she demanded.
Mr Nelson sat back and plumped out his chest. “They are wealthy hoteliers. Recently renovated a large country house in the village of Hartswell-on-the-Hill, set to open as a luxury hotel and conference centre in two w
eeks time. They have two children, Violet seventeen years old, and Theo two years older, plus a nephew staying with them, Joseph, early twenties.” He threw down photos of each on the desk as he spoke. “These photos were taken last week using a telephoto lens. But this picture,” he threw down a third photocopy of another old press cutting, showing a family group, “was taken twenty-five years ago.”
Kimberley looked at them, then raised her eyes to meet Mr Nelson’s. “Even their children haven’t aged,” she said excitedly. “How do they do it?”
Mr Nelson leant forward and said conspiratorially, “Something to do with crystals. I’m still working on it.”
“Sounds like new age gobbledegook,” said Kimberley disdainfully.
“Oh, this is the real thing, I quite assure you,” he said seriously.
She sat and thought for a moment, letting her brain compute the information, then turned back to the private detective.
“Mr Nelson, I’m no fool. Images can be manipulated. These pictures are not proof. I’m going to need something more than this.”
He looked at her without smiling. “Dear lady, one thing I would never take you for is a fool. You have been more successful in turning base metal into gold than any living creature. Perhaps you’ll let me continue?”
“Go ahead.”
“I’ve taken the liberty of booking you in to Hartswell Hall as soon as it opens. Second week in May. Giving you the opportunity to see the de Lucis family for yourself. The proof you seek will be in front of your very eyes.”
“Then what?” she asked. “If they truly have discovered the secret of eternal youth, they’re not just going to hand it over to me, crystal or otherwise. What we need is leverage. Some means of forcing them to share their secret.”
“All in hand, dear lady,” smirked Mr Nelson, and threw his last photograph on to the desk. “Emily Morgan, seventeen years old. Lives in the village. An ordinary college student…”
“Hm. Pretty, I suppose. But what’s she got to do with anything?” snapped Kimberley.
Mr Nelson smiled horribly. “A few weeks ago, Theo started a relationship with Emily. They are, by all accounts ‘in lurve’. It would seem that Theo would do anything for Emily.” He paused, letting his words hang in the air.
“You mean trading the family secret to ensure her safety ….” said Kimberley softy.
“Dear lady, you read my mind,” he said.
“Mr Nelson, you are brilliant. I could kiss you.” She thought for a moment, and said, “But I won’t.”
Mr Nelson sat back in his chair, puffing on his pipe and feeling pleased with himself. He’d found the proverbial goldmine and could see large rewards coming his way.