“How did you…” I start. But curiosity takes over as Damon fishes the little note out of the box. “Your grandmother was a phenomenal woman.” He says without taking his eyes off the little note. “She asked me to create little secret compartments in the box. She had another one of these and she would leave…”
“Secret notes in them” I now gasp as I remember the little pieces of paper grandmother hid in puzzle boxes when I was only a little girl. Those little notes were often nothing more than a compliment, an expression of how much she loved me or - when I was really lucky, they would be a ‘candy bar coupon’. I would run to grandma with the little note in hand looking forward to the chocolate bar I was bound to receive.
I almost expected the note to read ‘Good work Isa! Come and get your candy bar from Gran. Love you’ but deep in my heart I knew this was more serious than pig tails and candy bars.
Daimon rolled the little piece of paper open between his thumb and index finger. I recognised the handwriting immediately. Grandma.
“Isabelle. If you read this, you will have met Daimon. Don’t ask me how I know. Trust him. Go to London and look for the Aberrant Sword. It is paramount Asmodeus does not get it in his possession. Do not trust anyone but Daimon and Gustav. Do not tell anyone. Find help at Apollyon. Godspeed. I love you. Gran’
Tears are rolling over my cheeks. “How did she know?” I look up at Daimon and his anchoring gaze is everything I can hold onto in order not to collapse onto the floor crying. He shakes his head.” I don’t…” He sighs. “She was a formidable woman. One of the most intelligent people I have ever met.”
He opens the window to the balcony. “Get a bag read. I know the pub she is referring to.” He says. “Meet me at Charring Cross.” A wild flutter of feathers later he was gone.
Chapter 10
My parents will kill me. I look around the relatively empty train carriage. It’s 5am and I took the first train out to Waterloo Station. The man a few rows down is snoring loudly with a pint of Stella balancing on the small table. An elderly woman is knitting something on the other end of the carriage and the guy who normally takes care of the trolley is solving a crossword puzzle on the seat across the aisle.
I look at the passing fields and houses. “What is happening, Grandma?” I mumble. Grandma has always been full of surprises. I still remember when my dad wanted her to step down from the council due to her old age. She would have fought him there and then. She stayed on until she… disappeared.
She was on a trip to Cornwall. Nothing special, I think. Just to check in with the local guild and to ‘network’ as my dad would call it. And then one day… POOF! She was gone. It has been just over six months now and we still don’t know what happened to her or where she is. Ser Desdemona says she probably fell off one of the cliffs - but I find that hard to believe. Dad and I went up to Cornwall in the first few weeks but could not find a trace of her. We quit looking not five weeks ago. My heart is hammering in my chest at the possibility of my grandmother being alive, of this having something to do with her disappearance.
How did she know to send Daimon to the ship anyway?
The door slides open and a familiar red bush of hair walks down the central path. “Finally,” she lets out a sigh.
“Kathryn?” I ask confused. “What are you doing here?” I take my backpack and kit off the chair next to me and clear the remnants of a croissant from the little table.
“You asked me to come, remember?” She says as she sits down and takes out her phone. “Anyway, why did we have to leave this early? Nothing will be open when we get there. When are we due in?”
Kathryn is my best friend. Mainly because she talks a lot and does not mind me being quiet. “You never really hit me as someone who would impulsively go up to London. Especially after… you know… what happened, and all”
I shake my head trying to get my cloudy and tired brain working again. “I never asked you to come… I think”. She smiles one of her massive signature smiles and pulls out a little note. “Of course, you did silly!”
I pull the note out of her hands and open it. “Good thing I woke up to get a midnight snack or I would have missed it! I hardly made the train.”
I try to focus on her voice but my heart beats heavily in my throat. I stare at the little note as tears are welling up and I need to bite my tongue not to scream.
“Meet me at station.
4:30
Train to Waterloo
Please. It’s important!
Isa”
I let out a little whimper as I stare at my grandmother’s meticulous handwriting.
How did she do this? Why? Is she alive? Is she in Hampshire?
I hug my best friend as emotions overwhelm me. I cannot make any sense of what is happening anymore. If Gran thinks I can trust her, I should. And so, I tell my best friend the whole story.
“I know what you are thinking Kath…” I mumble as I look at my own reflection in the window. It is still dark outside. “But the council won’t be able to stop Asmodeus.”
Kathryn is silent for a moment. “But you should have at least told them.” She says ultimately. I know I should have. Dad and Kath’s parents are great members – well, maybe not Kath’s parents... But then you have the Desdemona family and the Bloodsworths. They are old school hunters who want our race to be pure, who want our order to be “uncontaminated” as they said when they almost cast the entire Le Blanc family out of the council when Camille explained she wanted to marry Santiago. Ever since, a massive rift has been dividing the council. The old ways and the new.
Gran always believed our kind had to go and grow with the times. She knew that we would never be able to exist on our own without the help of other creatures and humans. But the old school hunters wanted to keep the hunter kind pure - even if it meant we would go extinct.
The council is not what it used to be because of this struggle, and it was hard to know who to trust. As interim Council Master, dad could not be seen taking sides in something as controversial as this and him being my dad, he would not let me go… not in a thousand years. Because it is simply too dangerous.
I roll my eyes as I see Kath stare at my reflection in the window “You can stare at me for the rest of the ride, Kathryn, however, it’s not going to change my mind on this mission. If you want, you can just get off at the next stop and you will be in your cosy little bed within the hour.”
Kathryn scoffs and shakes her head, dropping her head down below as she runs her hands through her hair. “You do realize how incredibly dumb and stupid this is, right, Isabelle?”
I nod, my thoughts distant.
She is alive.
She has to be.
Was she hiding somewhere?
Was she holed up in Cornwall?
Maybe she was being held captive?
I almost slapped myself on the head. If she was being held captive, she would not have been able to write the letter. But what if something was wrong?
I need to find her!
I need to help her!
My heart is throbbing in my throat at the thought of the possibility of seeing my grandmother again. I take a deep breath and look at the crumpled train ticket in my hand.
A thought flashed through my head, but I discounted it as soon as it showed up. I could indeed buy a ticket to Newquay when I arrive in London, but that is not what she wanted. That is not what my path is. I need to find the Aberrant Sword; I need to help Daimon. Only then will I be able to find my grandmother!
I look up at my friend, eyes full of hope. She looks at me and shakes her head. “Did you even hear what I say?”
I bite my lip. “I am sorry. There’s just a lot going on and…” a little voice inside of me stops me from telling Kath about my hope - my knowledge, that Gran is still alive.
“Why did you trust him?” She asks again. “Because last time I checked we are supposed to hunt them, you know, drive a spear through their heart.” The snoring man a few rows down wak
es up violently as my friend raises her voice. “You of all people should know that their kind can NEVER be our allies.”
I sigh again. My head is spinning as the three short hours of sleep start to weigh on me. “It’s not that black and white, Kath.” I defend myself. “Yes, there’s bad ones out there but some of them are just… okay.” I try to explain. My head feels like someone replaced my brain with a tub of cotton candy. I realise I do not sound very eloquent, but I don’t care. “Not all hunters are good either.” Kath looked at me as if I just insulted her and her entire family.
“God. Kath! Did you learn anything in Saturday School? Bartholomew Grimsbane!” I try to point out the obvious. Grimsbane was the head of our council before my Grandmother took over. He collaborated with the Germans during the second world war and worked closely with not-so-friendly demons and evil warlocks to try and bring down London and ultimately the humans. He did this in secret in order to establish a bigger hunter society. When it came out, however, the hunters threw him out and gran took over. Last thing anyone heard he was living in Argentina.
Kath threw her hands in the air and let out an exuberant sigh. “Sure. Whatever. I’ll come with you. But don’t expect me to …” She paused, looking for words to spit out. “To be friends with a Demon. Or whatever it is you have in mind.”
“Sure.” I giggle. “He really did save me, you know? He could have killed me at sight. Yet he grabbed me out of that rank water and basically nursed me on a cot. He just wanted to talk. He just wanted help.” I lick my dry lips. I was thirsty and vowed to buy a big drink when the trolley comes past. “He put himself in mortal danger by entering my room. What if my parents were home? I mean, he knows my Gran! They were friends!”
I can see the resistance melt in my friend’s eyes. I knew I would be able to convince her of this absolute bonkers plan! “Sure, you must see how absolutely insane this all sounds.” She tries one last time to defend her point of view. I nod. It does sound pretty coocoo if you ask me. But I am sure that what I am doing is the right thing. “Yeah. And that is why you need to trust me.”
Chapter 11
The train jolts to a halt. Most of the commuters who entered the train in Woking are waiting faithfully in the walkway for the doors to sigh open. I look on my phone. 7:30 AM. I would normally still be in bed by now. I grunt as I grab my heavy back off the luggage rack and start making my way to the exit of the carriage. Kath and I were both tired and did not feel the need to talk all the way through our train journey. I was also a bit nervous. I had been up to London numerous times, but that would be on shopping trips or to see some band in the Camden Ballroom.
My palms are sweaty as my feet hit the paved platform. “Where do you want to go first?” Kath asks next to me, yawning. I raise my shoulders. “He said to meet him at Charing Cross, so I guess that’s where we’ll head towards.”
It is raining cats and dogs and I fold the collar of my leather jacket up. We walk over the Jubilee Bridge walkway in silence, dreading the weather and the dark clouds keeping the sun ransom. “It’s supposed to be spring in a few weeks…” Kath mumbles as she looks up at the morning sky. The London Eye towers lonely on our right. A couple of American Tourists takes pictures with the Big Ben in the distance but most people on the bridge are sour faced commuters, rushing towards their offices. We walk through a sea of umbrellas towards the North bank. I try to think back to the summer days I spent around the river, to my evenings in the little wine cave at Embankment with Gran and how happy I was back then. The contrast with those sun-filled days could not be bigger.
We turn again and walk past Embankment station. I ready myself to walk up the hill that would lead us to Charring Cross station when suddenly a warm force grabs my hand. I look up, heart pounding, at the face of a strange girl. “Come with me.” She says quickly, looking straight ahead of her. “They are on to Daimon. He is waiting for us.”
My rib cage can hardly contain my heart. It feels like it is ready to jump out of my body. I look back at Kath and reach out to grab her hand while the stranger pulls me towards a familiar gate.
I almost stumble down the wet stairs as the woman lets go of my hand. She had pulled me all the way. She did not seem very friendly if you asked me, but neither did Daimon when I first met him.
I hear Kath panting next to me as I take in my dim surroundings. Isn’t this…? I let my hand slide over the wall next to me, moving up and down, looking for a light switch. When I can’t find one, I decide to use the torch on my phone. Yes. I knew it! This is the little wine bar Gran used to take me!
“Ah.” A deep voice rumbles from the dark shadows. “You’re here.” Daimon. “Good.” There’s something different. Something is wrong. I feel and see figures shift in the darkness. Candles are being lit. I look around and faintly recognise the guy behind the bar. Daimon takes my hand and pulls me through a little door by the large kegs filled with delicious port.
“We need to talk.” His voice is stern and bitter. It scares me. Has this been a mistake? Was this all an act? No, it couldn’t be… I bite my lip as I look over my shoulder. Kathryn has a disapproving look on her face and I can see the woman who picked us up following her.
Closing rank.
Maybe this had all been a set-up. Maybe they were working with Asmodeus after all. I shook my head to weed out these stupid thoughts. No. That couldn’t be.
Gran sent that letter.
She knew Daimon.
She trusted him.
I trust him.
His shoulders are tense. I have never seen him this uneasy. I have never seen him this on edge. I mean, I have only just met the guy, but he had always seemed very chill, relaxed, confident – maybe a bit angry, but never tense. “What’s happening?” I asked. But he did not turn around. We took another left and went up some old stairs. “Not here.” He mumbled. He looked back over his shoulder at me and that’s when I saw a dark glint in his eyes. Worry. He was worried about something. Someone maybe.
He rings the little bell next to the door on the end of the landing. The door itself looked like any other door. Dark brown hard wood with what looked like a double lock. An old ‘welcome’ mat that had lost all its hairs was haphazardly thrown in front of the door and the wallpaper next to the wooden frame was peeling away. The corridor itself had quite a musty smell and I could imagine an old crazy cat lady looking after her fur babies behind one of these doors.
Something or someone stumbled behind the door. “Yes?” Someone said through the little gap of the letterbox. “Gustav it’s us” Daimon said. A little couch and at least four locks later, an old man opened the door. We all stepped into the warm apartment. The man looked surprised to see him, almost annoyed. “What is it now?” He asked scratching his wild bush of white and grey hair.
Daimon pushes through to the living room. The whole apartment is a mess. Papers and books were thrown around like confetti and I am pretty sure that the closed, dark brown curtains were once supposed to be white. The apartment stinks of old paper and cigarette butts. The old man tidied away some of the papers in the middle of the room where Daimon stood fierce.
“Gustav. This is Isabelle.” Daimon nodded to me. Kath and I stands in the door opening, not quite sure what to do. We are pretty sure the old man isn’t very happy to have us in his house, and the last thing we want to do was impose. I guess that sounds weird, but all in all we are still British, and the last thing any British man or woman wants to do is to “impose”.
The old man straightens his glasses and looks at me. He has a light stubble across his cheeks, and I am not sure he recently showered. “Yes?” Gustav looks at Daimon. Daimon takes a few large steps towards me and says “She is a keeper. She is Bridget’s granddaughter.” Gustav takes off his glasses and shuffles closer in his old slippers.
“But that means she must have known…” He looks up at Daimon. “Why didn’t she tell us?” He licked his lips and scratched the stubble on his cheeks.
“Look.” Daimon shook
his head. “We do not have time for this. We need to get word out to the others. Asmodeus is after the sword and word is that he is close.” Daimon sounded desperate. “Now we have Isabelle to help us, we have a bigger chance to actually win this fight.”
He now looked at the thousands of papers and loose books covering the surfaces. “We need everything you got on the Abarynthian Artefacts.”
Chapter 12
We had spent the afternoon in the little cramped apartment, and I was very happy to get some fresh air - even though it meant walking into one of the most notorious hunter bars in the country.
Kath and I had helped Daimon and Gustav dig through books and papers for any reference or mention of the Abarynthian Artefacts. In the end we had a pile of eight or so books and about three hundred loose pages that would hopefully help us find the sword before Asmodeus does.
I walk through the cobbled streets with my heart pounding in my chest. I was about to walk into one of the most dangerous places in the country - bar from that one vampire lair in Skye.
I shake my head and take a deep breath. The cold London air seeps into my lungs. The afternoon was a drag. Gustav knew my grandmother and he was happy to share a couple of stories about her. They had worked together on multiple occasions and it was Gustav who introduced gran to Daimon.
He had always been a bit of a weird guy, Daimon told me when we were making tea in the cramped, dirty kitchen. He has been a walker since the twenties and became a local librarian. He had been obsessed with history - demonology and arcana in particular. If you were looking for information about something obscure, something arcane, Gustav was an easy first step. It was a small miracle Asmodeus had not bled him dry from any drop of information he might withhold. But then again: he became interested in these tomes only after he swore off his existence as an infernal.
The Aberrant Sword Page 5
