The Immortal Bind

by Traci Harding

  ‘Well done!’ Connie applauded his efforts.

  ‘Thank you. Would you like to see what all the fuss is about?’ Jon held up the box in offering; after all, this was their land.

  Connie’s smile soured. ‘No. We don’t need the confirmation.’ She spoke for her husband, who was looking a little spooked by it all. ‘If Rosalind entrusted this mission to you, then so do we.’

  ‘Sandstone is the only stone I’m interested in,’ Richard confirmed. ‘We’ll replace the slab on Rosalind’s grave and get a nice engraving or a statue or suchlike, to mark her last resting place.’

  ‘I would love to have a hand in that.’ Jon shook Richard’s hand. ‘And I’m happy to pay all the costs you incurred for today.’

  ‘Tom and his Bobcat came at the huge cost of a few beers.’ Richard laughed off the expense. ‘And I plan to dig this all up now anyway, ghost permitting. But you keep in touch, and let us know when you get where you’re going safely.’

  ‘Well, I’ll talk with you at the exhibition, if not before.’ They were lovely people and Jon was so very grateful to them.

  ‘Don’t forget our invitation,’ Connie reminded him playfully. ‘I want to see that painting.’

  ‘Seriously—’ Jon held up the treasure box he was walking away with. ‘You guys are permanently on my guest list, but I’ll be sure an invitation is sent.’

  * * *

  Jon had rather thought that acquiring the stones would be the hardest part of this quest — and finding them had seemed so unlikely that he had yet to give any real consideration to the rest of the plan. He’d just taken possession of a one-thousand-year-old curse, and if he didn’t deliver on his promise to get the stones back to Somnath it could wreak havoc with heaven knows how many more lives, without anyone ever discovering why. He was in a unique position, so failure was not an option.

  ‘So are you going to show me your treasure?’ Simon queried in the car as they neared home.

  ‘Do you remember that courier I mentioned yesterday, who died of a mysterious illness after delivering the stones?’

  ‘That was me,’ Simon guessed.

  ‘Might be best not to go there again.’ They pulled up in front of Jon’s terrace, and Jon was surprised to spot Selene on his front porch.

  ‘Looks like you have company.’ Simon sounded like he expected Jon would not be happy to see her, as she waved and approached.

  ‘Selene?’ Jon was actually thrilled.

  ‘Is that her name?’ Simon was surprised Jon knew.

  ‘Thanks for all your help in the past few days, I really appreciate it,’ Jon said to Simon as he climbed out of car. ‘I’ll keep you informed.’ He closed the door and turned to greet his visitor.

  ‘I had a bit of a thought this morning.’ Selene cocked an eyebrow. ‘Just how are you planning to get your stones to India?’

  He grinned, amazed by how the stars just seemed to be aligning to aid his quest. ‘I am rather hoping you are going to tell me.’

  ‘So you found them?’ She asked in a whisper, rather excited.

  His grin was enough of an answer, as she quietly squealed with excitement.

  ‘I brought wine.’ She took his arm. ‘Come, tell me everything!’

  * * *

  ‘OH MY GOD.’ Selene gasped at the pair of stones, her eyes wide in awe as she viewed them with her loupe, which John had returned. ‘These are the real deal.’

  Jon closed the box. ‘It’s not safe to stare at them too long.’

  ‘Right.’ She collected her thoughts. ‘Here’s how you’re going to do this.’ She pulled a stack of packing from her bag. ‘You’re going to send them by courier—’

  ‘No, I couldn’t possibly—’

  ‘You must—’

  ‘These are not just jewels, Selene, it’s a curse!’ Jon stressed. ‘I can’t just sign it off to some poor unsuspecting courier!’

  ‘Well, you can’t carry them into India with you; if the customs authorities find them they’ll want to see proof of ownership, which I dare say you can’t produce. If they are confiscated they could—’

  ‘Disappear again.’ Jon conceded that would not be ideal.

  ‘If you package them properly, sealed boxes within sealed boxes, and label them as “parts” or “supplies”, they’ll arrive perfectly safe at your hotel in India, where they will be popped into the safe until you sign them out,’ she suggested. ‘You don’t have to be arrested, or attract any attention to what you are carrying.’

  Jon noted that the sticky label seals she was showing him had Selene Love Quality Antique Clock Parts written on them. ‘I didn’t realise you did spare parts as well?’

  ‘I don’t. But you never use any jewellery-related terms when sending valuables overseas. There are many little tricks of the trade that will help get your treasure where it’s going safely, like . . . send the package early in the week so that it’s not sitting in a hub over a weekend, and check the package has not been tampered with before signing for it — the hotel management will do the same.’

  ‘I really appreciate your help with this.’

  Gratitude was not an emotion Jon felt towards another human being very often, for he did not often open himself to the kindness of others. But these past few days Jon had realised he was not an island, nor did he want to be any more. Subconsciously, maybe he had been hiding from love and this demon due to the tragic end that always came of it, but now he was aware of the probable cause of his phobias he could take decisive action to overcome them.

  ‘It’s a load off my mind. Frankly, I had no idea where to even start with the transportation, but this plan, fingers crossed, makes it easier and less risky than I imagined.’

  ‘These couriers are rather good, I’ve found.’ She handed over their details. ‘You won’t have to announce the stones to anyone before you’re walking into the temple to return them to the yogi, or whomever the custodian of the temple is now.’

  ‘I believe the temple is overseen by a council these days.’ Jon had researched that much.

  ‘How very anticlimactic. I’d rather envisioned a great holy man waiting to take possession.’ He laughed at her old-fashioned, romantic ideals.

  ‘As long as there is someone to receive them on the Lord Shiva’s behalf at the other end, I’ll be happy.’

  ‘Now, these items are obviously priceless . . . I would insure the package, but not for the true value, as you don’t want to tip anyone off to the contents. Value the parts at a few hundred dollars — that’s enough for the couriers to treat it as a priority, but not enough for anyone to risk breaking the seals . . . antique clock parts aren’t really in high demand on the black market. You’re going to be sweating the whole time they are not in your possession, which will be a few days at most, but better that than a stay in an Indian prison.’

  ‘I just have to hope that the Lord Shiva does not consider my method to be skirting my responsibility.’ Jon frowned, still uncomfortable with the premise. ‘Perhaps I should contact the authorities and allow them to facilitate my journey?’

  ‘The more people who find out the stones are in your possession, the greater the chance you have of them being stolen,’ Selene warned. ‘They’re not on anyone’s radar right now, best keep it that way.’

  IN FLIGHT TO INDIA

  The next morning the priceless package was collected by the courier; it would be twenty-four hours before Jon was reunited with the stones, and as Selene predicted he was going to be painfully aware of every second. That same afternoon he was booked on a flight to Diu via Mumbai; it would be roughly two hours by road from Diu to Somnath, after his twelve-and-a-half-hour joint flight. Jon didn’t care how tired he’d be upon arrival, he intended to head straight through to his accommodation in Somnath — he wouldn’t be able to sleep until the stones were back in his possession in any case.

  In the lounge, waiting for the boarding call for his Mumbai flight, Jon got a text message from Simon that read, ‘Recognise this guy?’ followed
by a photo of a man who was the spitting image of their nemesis.

  ‘Holy shit!’ The picture startled the life out of Jon and he quite forgot where he was. He glanced up to find many parents with young children glaring at him. ‘Apologies.’ He forced a smile, and grabbed his hand luggage to move further away from the families.

  ‘See this news article.’ Simon texted a link, which Jon clicked to view.

  The article was about a TV hypnotherapist, Robert Baxter, on the run from the Australian police after being charged with malpractice and sexual assault. There was a picture of the female victim bringing charges against Baxter, but it was not the woman Jon was looking for. ‘Thank goodness.’

  There was footage taken out the front of Baxter’s ex-fiancée’s house — she had called off the engagement and was currently hiding out from the press in her warehouse in Sydney. The footage showed a courier getting very annoyed at the press for hindering his job during a late night pick-up from the address. Jon felt it was no coincidence that he recognised this guy also. ‘Chisomo.’ Thanks to a break-in attempt at the house of the founder of the WJP fashion label by Baxter, the obnoxious courier had been recognised as the designer Willie-Jay Perilli — a close friend of Baxter’s ex-fiancée.

  But Baxter had fled the scene when the police arrived.

  Jon glanced up from his reading to note most of the passengers on his flight had boarded. He scrolled down, wanting to read the rest before they made him turn off his phone, and there she was, Sara Dash. A young steampunk fashion designer and Baxter’s ex-fiancée.

  ‘She was engaged to him!’ He was gutted for her. What must she be going through right now? The marriage was off, but Baxter was on the loose and she was vulnerable.

  It made complete sense that the demon had decided to specialise in hypnotherapy, with those eyes of his he could make anyone do anything he wanted — including convincing a woman who despised him to agree to be his wife.

  ‘Australia.’ Jon swallowed hard on the knowledge, tempted to change his flight. ‘I know exactly where she is.’ He had never felt so torn in all his life.

  Jon had a flash recollection of what Rosalind had said to him in the wood the other night. ‘Our mistake is always in thinking we know better than the divine, just stay the course, and know that the gods always want what is best for us.’ As much as he wanted to resist learning from lessons past, what was the point in having divine guidance if you weren’t prepared to heed it?

  ‘You can’t.’ Jon had posted the stones, he had to be there to meet them at the other end. Hard as it was to let go of his want, the final boarding call compelled him to finish this and catch his flight.

  The chairs had given his unknown woman all the same insights he’d had, he had to trust she was taking measures to distance herself from Baxter. Was that why Chisomo was there? Was he still protecting her from Blackheart and his demon?

  Unfortunately she didn’t know that Jon had found the real stones, or that he even existed! But Jon knew she existed, and now he even knew her name. Sara.

  * * *

  ‘I demand to see the man in charge!’ A flamboyant fellow in drag approached the main counter at the WJP city store, above which the fashion company had offices.

  ‘Hi there, I’m Troy, the new brand ambassador for WJP,’ the young man behind the counter informed the customer. ‘Can I assist you?’

  ‘No.’ The customer was adamant. ‘You’re not Willie-J. I demand to see Willie-J!’

  ‘Our fearless leader is taking a well-needed vacation.’

  ‘Well someone must know how to contact him,’ the customer demanded, making a scene. ‘This is the digital age, you know?’

  ‘I’m very sorry but—’ The phone on the counter rang. ‘Excuse me one moment.’ Troy answered the phone.

  ‘I’ll come out.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll tell them.’ Troy put down the phone and roused an accommodating smile.

  ‘Willie-Jay’s personal assistant will speak with you in just a moment.’

  ‘Fabulous!’ The customer looked about for the camera, and then blew it a kiss.

  Tyrell, who’d been watching the scene unfold from his security room out the back, came around the dividing wall behind the counter to greet the disgruntled customer. ‘What seems to be the problem?’

  ‘I have an issue with my last order’ — the customer lowered his voice — ‘that I don’t really think you want me to discuss openly on your shop floor.’

  ‘Then you’d best follow me.’ Tyrell motioned towards the back room.

  ‘Thank you, sweetness.’ The customer pinched Troy’s cheek quite hard, but he managed to maintain his smile.

  ‘Enjoy your day.’ Troy moved on to his next customer, cushioning his wounded face.

  ‘Bound to.’ The customer followed Tyrell out the back and to his office, where the security guard closed the door behind them.

  ‘Now, how can I assist you?’ When Tyrell turned to address the customer, he saw his eyes were black as night.

  It was Baxter, under all that bling. ‘Let’s start with where Willie-Jay Perilli is.’ He approached Tyrell, who for the first time in his adult life was frozen with fear. Baxter’s dark gaze had an unnatural hold over his mobility, he literally could not move a muscle from the neck down.

  ‘I don’t know where he is.’ That was the truth.

  ‘Do you mean to tell me that he wouldn’t tell his little bitch where he was going? Tell me where he is?’ Baxter moved in closer to exert his influence.

  ‘He’s on a boat, I don’t know where.’

  ‘But where is he going?’

  ‘India.’

  ‘India?’ Baxter appeared to find that most curious. ‘Somnath?’

  ‘Yes,’ Tyrell spat out begrudgingly — he couldn’t stop himself from answering.

  ‘When?’

  ‘Eight days’ time.’ He gritted his teeth, but it didn’t stop his tongue wagging.

  ‘From where?’

  Tyrell smiled. ‘Your guess is as good as mine. Fuck you.’

  ‘He didn’t trust you.’ Baxter faked sympathy and then smiled. ‘A wise move.’

  ‘He’ll outsmart you.’ Tyrell was confident about that.

  ‘Will he now?’ The demon seemed very amused by the boast. ‘If he couldn’t best me as a rebellious slave, nor in the guise of a wolf, what makes you so sure he could do so now?’

  Tyrell had no idea what Baxter was on about. ‘You’re insane.’

  ‘He didn’t tell you why I’m chasing him, then?’ Robert made out that Willie was keeping secrets. ‘You never questioned his devotion to my fiancée? Ha! Perhaps we’ve both been duped?’

  Tyrell couldn’t deny the accusation cut straight at his heart, but if it was meant to cast a shadow in his mind about his lover’s devotion to him, it didn’t. ‘Maybe we’re a threesome?’ Tyrell struck right back.

  Baxter, smouldering under the surface of his cool facade, grabbed hold of Tyrell’s head to hold his eyes open and stare deep into them — all Tyrell could see was deep dead, blackness. ‘Forget this meeting. But remember this, if you do happen to see your love again, you give that black my regards, and kill him for me, will you?’ Robert let him go and left the office.

  Tyrell staggered to a seat. ‘Damn.’ He was so dizzy suddenly, and he felt kind of nauseous. ‘What brought that on?’ He couldn’t remember what he was doing just now, let alone what had made him feel ill. Did he drink this morning? Could he have been drugged? As Tyrell regained his sensibilities, he found the turn very odd. ‘Check what the cameras have to say.’ He jumped straight back into work mode.

  * * *

  In a no-land-access bay, only Willie knew where, on the eastern coast of Australia, Sara was lying in the sun on the back deck of the boat, her feet dipping into the water as the boat bobbed up and down on the waves. As they’d been heading north, the water was becoming less green and more turquoise, and Sara guessed they were bound for a flight out of either Brisbane or the Gold Coast. A
s she did have to hide out, she could think of no place better to do it, yet the waiting around for a visa was driving her nuts. She missed her chair and its handsome ghost.

  ‘I’ve paid the consulate to put a rush on them.’ Willie hung up from a call as he came to sit beside her.

  ‘So how long now?’ Sara sat up to attention, hopeful.

  ‘A few days,’ he said flatly.

  ‘Oh, damn.’ The news was deflating.

  ‘Welcome to India.’ Willie had travelled there a few times.

  ‘They have an entirely different concept of time and due process.’

  Sara roused a smile. ‘I don’t want to seem ungrateful, this is such an awesome hideout, the best! But—’

  ‘But . . . it’s really hard to relax and enjoy when you know you’re being chased by an immortal demon, while in search of your true love. I get it.’ He sympathised completely.

  ‘I’m sure you’d much rather be out here with Tyrell.’ Sara sympathised with his predicament too.

  ‘Baby girl, I’m just glad we aren’t both at a wedding today.’

  Sara gasped. ‘I’d forgotten all about that.’ It certainly served to put the smile back on her face, however.

  ‘At least you didn’t have to call everyone and tell them it was off.’ Willie always found the silver lining.

  ‘I guess the press do have their uses.’ Sara found a silver lining too. ‘Most of the guests were Robert’s associates, and after what’s happened I doubt very much they wish to be associated with him any more.’

  ‘I’ll drink to that.’ Willie rose to fetch glasses and a bottle, when his phone rang. ‘Speaking of my angel.’

  Sara knew by the ringtone it was Tyrell. ‘I’ll get the drinks,’ she volunteered, clambering to her feet — a little wobbly as she hadn’t quite got her sea legs yet.

  Willie took the call. ‘My man, what’s up? . . . Define weird?’

  The comment stopped Sara in her tracks.

  ‘Just static?’ Willie queried. ‘So are you saying our cameras are busted? . . . No? Then what is the problem?’