The Kin
By Elsye Harwood
Published by Lillian White Publishing
Copyright ©2015 Elsye Harwood
Cover Image Copyright ©2015 Phoenix Design
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Cover base images © Dollar Photo Club/Michal knitl /George Kuna/lena zamotaeva/Ricardo Reitmeyer
Dedications
This book is dedicated to my husband for his honesty, patience, and belief in me.
Also to Lily and Mollie who helped in their way and who will always have a place in my heart.
The Kin
By
Elsye Harwood
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty One
Chapter Twenty Two
Chapter Twenty Three
Chapter Twenty Four
Chapter Twenty Five
Chapter Twenty six
Chapter Twenty Seven
Chapter Twenty Eight
Chapter Twenty Nine
Glossary
Prologue
Vatican City; Early Twenty-First Century; September
The library was only a stone’s throw from the Vatican museums, in a peaceful tree-lined street of impressive classical buildings. Nervously, David Lowe checked the numbers for the umpteenth time. Then he punched them into the keypad and waited anxiously for the code to be accepted. The click was almost instantaneous and with a small push the imposing wooden door opened to reveal a plain white marble corridor. David couldn’t see any directions or notices to inform him that he was in the right place, so still clutching the instructions and his letter of introduction, he followed the passageway until he came to the foot of an ornate marble staircase. There was still no information, so he began to ascend the stairs, not really knowing where he was going. This, however, seemed to be the only obvious way. To his relief, when he reached a small landing, he heard voices; at least now he could ask for directions.
From the sound of it, there seemed to be two men speaking, but they weren’t engaged in the usual frenetic exchange that typified most Italian conversations. In fact, he wasn’t sure what language they were using, it sounded like it could be Latin, but a very different type to the sort he’d learnt at school.
Eventually the speakers came into view, and he saw them standing on the landing by an open door leading into an office with a huge reception window. This, David decided, must the Library of Arcane Knowledge, which his friend and mentor had arranged for him to visit to help with research for his Masters.
The man facing him was young, probably the same age as David, but he was dressed in an immaculate Italian suit and seemed to be the living embodiment of that annoyingly cool and well groomed look which came so effortlessly to some Italian males. He saw David and must have said something to his companion, because the other man glanced around briefly. Then they said their goodbyes, and the younger one turned the corner and disappeared.
The remaining man turned now and watched as David climbed the last few stairs, at which point his face broke into a huge smile of greeting. He was older than his fellow by a few years, but had the same easy self-assured confidence. He moved to meet David with his hand out in welcome.
“David Lowe, I presume? I’m Maurice Tully, but please call me Tully. We’ve been expecting you; welcome to the Library of Arcane Knowledge. I’m one of the main librarians and custodian of the artefacts. As I’m sure you’re aware, we’re also members of the Order of Arcane Knowledge. The man you just saw was Marcus Sylvain, my colleague.”
David was startled by the man’s clipped clear English accent. He sounded like someone from a British war film and it gave his voice a tone of natural authority.
He took the proffered hand noting the man’s firm grasp and smiling brown eyes. David decided that Tully was probably only in his mid-thirties, as his thick dark hair had only a few sprinkles of grey at the temples. “Pleased to meet you, and thank you for allowing me to visit here. Do you want to see my letter?”
“Oh no,” Tully waved his hand dismissively, “Elliot’s a good friend and he said you’d be fine. Come along, let me show you the place.”
He led David through the open door into an office with a desk facing the reception window, upon which sat the ubiquitous computer. The rest of the small room was lined with shelves crammed with books and folders, though David also noticed a strange dark hole in the wall, but before he could make out what was inside it, Tully had led him into a larger room, which was obviously the library.
“This is the first room,” Tully informed him. “There are another two like this one, though this is the brightest. The desk has shelves and drawers as well, but I have to warn you, there’s a strange atmosphere in this place. Your Wi-Fi won’t work. Only computers that are plugged into the network, I’m afraid. What are you studying?”
David flushed, slightly embarrassed by his line of interest. “How dreams and nightmares influence folk beliefs and myths and the consequences of that. I’m looking for a link between cultures to explain behaviour. I want to investigate anomalies like the night hag, which has been recorded all over the world, and mermaids and sirens, things like that.”
Tully regarded him thoughtfully for a moment. “I can see why Elliot sent you here then. This place is ideal for you.” He paused and looked around. “I suggest that you use this chap.” He marched over to the shelf and picked out a huge book. “Tullius Varens, a Roman soldier who became an investigator and the second in command of the Order. Tullius wrote an encyclopaedia of the creatures he came across and gave detailed accounts of what they were, what they did and how to deal with them. It’s our bible and our ‘go-to’ book. But then I’m biased, as he’s also my ancestor.” He placed the book on the table. “It’s all there. That’s definitely your starting point. I suggest you read him and get a feel for what he says and move on when you’re ready. I can guide and answer any questions you have.
“In the meantime, I’ll be at the reception desk. We have our own work to do, as well as research for cardinals who can’t be bothered to come along themselves or even send their minions.” He smiled and began to move away. “Oh, I close for lunch at one and open again at three for two hours. There’s a lovely place to eat down the road. Say Tully sent you and they’ll do you a good deal.”
Moments later, David was alone in the shadowy library. He set himself down and breathed in the musty smell of old books and knowledge. Libraries were the same the world over; the stillness and peace couldn’t be replicated. It was as if the books breathed their serenity into the room. Even though he was alone he’d still be as quiet as possible; it seemed appropriate in a tranquil place like this.
When he’d drunk in enough of the atmosphere he opened the book and found the index page. He hadn’t heard of at least ha
lf the creatures listed here. Some, though, were well known, but according to Varens there were five different types of vampires. Intrigued, he looked up the different types and saw that the various descriptions covered all the myths he’d ever come across. This, he realised, was a comprehensive and thorough work. Then for amusement he read about the strange creatures called Rabisu, which apparently were Sumerian seizer demons who had the ability to drain the life force from their victims, but they could also be beneficial and benevolent and use their power to heal. It apparently depended on their personality, and Varens advised getting to know them before deciding whether to dispatch it or not. David had never heard of them before and he’d researched a multitude of myths and legends. So he eagerly flicked through the book to find more examples of the weird and wonderful.
Eventfully his eyes were drawn to the chapter on spells and there he found one that could be useful to him, if he believed in such stuff, as it promised to help in the quest for information and hidden knowledge.
David rummaged in his pocket for the new pad and pen he’d bought for the trip, then settled down to make some notes. He wouldn’t try the spell here, but maybe back at the hotel, he could give it a go; it couldn’t hurt, as this sort of stuff was only a form of psychology, anyway.
As he read, David flicked the metal clip of his pen lid back and forth, a bad habit that he had when he concentrated. He normally used plastic pens, but he’d treated himself and this more expensive one had a metal clip. The constant bending was straining the thin steel and it eventually snapped, sending the jagged edge straight into the soft pad of his thumb. David winced and dropped the pen, bringing his hand up to examine the wound. To his surprise blood was trickling out of the cut, and he stared in shocked dismay as a red droplet fell onto the page where the spell was printed.
Panicking that he’d ruined a priceless tome, he stuck his finger in his mouth to stop any more blood falling and rummaged around in his pockets for a tissue. Luck was with him. He found the remnants of an old one, which was more holey then whole, but at least it was something, and holding the manky rag in his left hand he blotted ineffectually at the stain. At first he thought it was his imagination playing tricks on him, but soon he couldn’t deny that something strange was happening when the mark began to grow tendrils, which rapidly spread across the page, consuming the paper and completely obscuring the text.
He watched helplessly as a black mist rose from the blood and swirled around, forming a vortex. David had no idea what to do, and stared horrified as the mist began to morph before his eyes into the form of a human hand. He could see now that it was growing out of the book, because a wrist was emerging and soon he could even make out the beginnings of an arm.
“Close the book, you idiot,” a voice commanded.
Stunned, David looked up to see the same young man who’d been on the stairs earlier come racing into the room, and with lightning speed, he’d leant across the table and slammed the book shut with a thud. David found himself staring into a pair of intense green eyes, which blazed with anger.
“What the hell were you doing?”
But David’s mind was still stunned; he could only stare mutely at the handsome Roman who spoke with that same old-fashioned accent.
“Marcus, he’s in shock. He’s probably no idea what happened.”
“Idiot,” the young man hissed at him. “What’s the book?”
Tully came to stand behind David. “Tullius Varens. I thought it was a good place to begin his research, so it won’t be anything too nasty.”
Marcus straightened himself. “You take him upstairs and I’ll clean up down here.”
“But…” David began, then wisely closed his mouth when Marcus glowered at him.
Tully helped him to his feet and led him from the room. As he left, David glanced back and saw that the young Roman had moved the book and was now flicking through it.
Tully guided David into another room of the library where a door amongst the shelves was standing wide open. This had obviously been where Marcus had come from. It led out onto the same staircase but opposite the reception area. Tully led him up the stairs and stopped outside a huge wooden door. David, still numb with shock, waited as the man punched some numbers into the keypad and the door sprang open.
“Welcome to the custodians’ apartment. This is where the Order’s based. It’s big enough to house all our members but only Marcus and I live here currently; the others prefer to be what you might call ‘field operatives’. You’ll find a washroom on your left, so you can freshen up. I’ll be in the kitchen.” David stepped inside and felt that he was entering another world. The flat was huge, light and full of space. It was mostly open plan and dominated by windows, which ran the length of the right-hand wall and drenched the flat in sunlight. They revealed a balcony, dotted with furniture, which also stretched the entire length of the wall. There were several seating areas scattered around the flat and on the furthest wall was a modern kitchen area, which was almost entirely closed off by units. Next to it and contrasting with the high ceilings and white plaster walls, sat a huge rustic wooden farm table with matching chairs.
Tully shut the door and directed him to the washroom, which was next to an impressive marble staircase.
When David had splashed his face with water and collected himself, he opened the door and surveyed more of the stunning apartment. Facing him was a walled sitting room, which was also dominated by huge windows that bathed the room in sunlight. Next to it, though, was a dark mysterious opening, hinting at another older section of the flat.
David could see Tully in the kitchen area, so he wandered over, avoiding three couches set around a larger table in the middle of the room.
“I know it’s early, but you’ve had a shock, so I’ve poured you a drink,” Tully said handing him a glass of amber liquid.
“Thank you. I’m so sorry. It was my pen, the lid broke and cut me,” David explained.
“No harm done, Marcus will sort it out. I’ll get you a plaster.”
David studied his finger. “It’s only a scratch and it’s stopped bleeding.”
“But it could start again, and we don’t want a repeat occurrence.” David had to agree, he took a sip of his drink as the older man searched in a drawer.
David has just secured the dressing when Marcus entered the flat.
“What the hell were you playing at? Elliot said we could trust you,” he said coming to stand in front of David.
“David, meet Marcus Sylvain, the other custodian who’s mostly based here.” David nodded bashfully, but the Roman ignored it.
“Why the hell did you drop blood onto a spell? Are you stupid or doing hexes without permission?”
Tully interjected. “He was fiddling with his pen and it broke, it wasn’t deliberate and not his fault. Unhappy chance, I’m afraid.” David glanced gratefully at the older man.
Marcus shook his head in disbelief. “I suggest that you wear some gloves in future and take a lot more care with our books.” He paused and sighed. “What are you researching?”
David flushed; the younger man was intimidating and made him feel uncomfortable. For a moment he forgot his study, then thankfully his brain rebooted and he was able to speak. “Um, the relationship between dreams and myths or folktales and how they influence a culture.”
The young Roman stared at him for a moment, and David felt himself flush even more, but what Marcus said next surprised him. “Tullius is a good place to start. Could we have a copy of your paper for our library when you’ve finished it?”
David went even redder and stammered his reply. “Uh, y-yes, of course, though why would you want it?”
“It’s the sort of thing we collect and file for reference and there’s always the possibility that it might be interesting,” Marcus replied, clearly amused by David’s nervousness.
“What did Elliot tell you about us?” Tully asked leaning forward on the counter.
David turned to him,
grateful for the change of subject. “Not a lot; he told me that you’d give me information as and when I needed to know it. But he did say that you aren’t a religious Order, though you do have strong links with the Church and work closely with them sometimes.”
The two Romans exchanged looks. But it was Marcus who asked the next question.
“That’s all you know?”
“Um, also that the Order of Arcane Knowledge are the guardians of the library, which is where the Church keeps books it doesn’t want people to know about, but needs to keep hold of in case they’re useful.”
“And that’s all?” Tully asked.
David nodded. “Well, now I know that magic is real.”
“You have no idea,” Marcus said shaking his head and smiling ruefully as he walked towards the window.
“I’ve got to get back to the library. Are you ready to try again, David?” Tully asked.
David nodded and gulped back his drink.
Tully looked at his colleague. “You’re meeting with the cardinal, aren’t you?” Marcus was looking out of the window. He glanced over, grimacing. “Behave this time, please.” In response Marcus rolled his eyes but acknowledged the request.