Ankerita found some headphones. Although she didn’t realise it, these were wireless, and sat comfortably on her head. To her surprise, the music started seeping through as she settled into the cushions. Again she leaned on the door. She couldn’t hear anything other than the music, but at least she would have the warning if George should return. She thought of her housemate. Where was he? He had not been in touch, and it seemed like a long time since he left for the Christmas break.
“This isn’t easy,” she thought, as her mind skipped away on other dreams. “My brain is skittish; it keeps trying to distract me. Why?”
Dismissing the nagging feeling of disquiet, she again concentrated on her breathing. This time, imagining the word ‘So’ with the breath in. With the breath out, she imagined a long ‘Hum’. The music faded into the background. All she could sense were her breaths. She started counting again from the start: “one, sooo... hummm... two sooo... hummm... ... ...eighteen, nineteen, twenty...”
In her mind, a face began to appear. Normally, thoughts are deep inside one’s head, but Ankerita could see swirling images, almost immediately behind her eyelids. It was as though she was looking at a picture show. She almost lost the image, as her mind wandered again, but recalled it, firmly. There was something there, a soft, angelic face.
“What is your name,” she asked in her head.
There was a pause as the face drifted, and she heard the words: “Nithaiah. I am Nithaiah.”
“Who are you?”
“I am here to help you understand,” came the reply, after another pause.
“Understand what?” Ankerita desperately held on to the connection, still breathing deeply and forcing the ‘so-hum’.
“Hear me. I will grant you the knowledge to look below the surface of your understanding of life. You need to realise why you are here; what is the purpose of existence. I am able to tell you that if you listen to my voice. I can see the answers you need.”
“I saw a chair, when I last tried to contact you. Who was in that chair? Is it really God?”
“You must take that path again.”
“I nearly died last time.” Ankerita felt slightly annoyed. “Why can’t you simply tell me? Do I honestly need to go back through all that?”
The face smiled. “You do. If you want the answers.”
“And are you protecting me?”
“I am enlightenment.”
“Dulcis Jesu,” she swore. “Why does everything need to be so difficult? Just show me the way.”
“Follow. I will lead you.”
The images swam before her eyes again, and Nithaiah began to move. Ankerita forced herself to remain breathing calmly, and tried to keep up. She noticed her surroundings. They were in the forest, dense trees and bushes preventing her from seeing beyond the narrow path they were following. Soooo – hummmm. They came out into bright sunlight reflecting off a stream. There was a bridge, multi-coloured and fragile, but Nithaiah led her safely over, into a field of wildflowers beyond.
Ankerita concentrated on the back of the head. Was it a he or a she? The pale skin and soft white hair made it difficult to tell. She could not work out an age. Was Nithaiah a child or adult? The image faded and became more a sensation than an actual presence.
A dark tower loomed. Ankerita recognised it as that she had been to before, a massive fortification, both ruined and new simultaneously. They were on the correct path.
The heavy door opened silently before her, and she entered a vast hall, light coming in through a coloured glass window at the far end. She saw a spiral staircase, and began to climb. The feel of the cold stone of the walls on her fingers was strangely intense.
The guide had disappeared. “Nithaiah?” She called out, but there was nothing, other than the knowledge she had to keep climbing.
At the top of the spiral was another door, wooden, and studded with iron nails. Ankerita pushed. It opened without resistance on a large hall, carpeted, and with stone walls hanging with flags and tapestries. In the centre was a chair facing away from her; it was more like a throne, Ankerita thought. It was the chair she had seen before.
“Is this it?” she murmured. “Am I to see the face of God?”
There was nothing else in the room. She forced herself to take the final steps across to the middle. Was this to be her death? Her footfalls had nearly taken her over a precipice last time. She felt the fibres of the carpet in the library. “No, I am safe,” she said. “You can’t harm me. Who are you?”
Ankerita took hold of the throne, and pulled it around. She found herself face to face with a woman, a dark, handsome woman.
“Who are you?” she repeated.
A name formed in her head.
“You should know who your nemesis is.” The woman smiled. “I knew you were near.”
“Get out of my head,” yelled Ankerita. She was briefly staring at an office full of computer monitors, before she ripped off the headphones, and found herself still in the library. Why had her guide taken her to this? Another trick?
16. Invasion
T
he silver car was going past again. Ankerita took another furtive glance out of the window. She was sure it had been up the street and stopped by the shop. Was she imagining it, seeing danger everywhere, or was there something to genuinely worry about? A shiver of goose-bumps went down her spine. They were closing in, and Ankerita had a name for her enemy at last: Fantasia Maria Wanda Stanhope. George had said that the house was secure enough to stand a siege, so Ankerita could do nothing but sit tight and hope for the best until he returned.
The computer in the library was her only contact with the outside world. She started it up and typed the name into the browser. It gave her a few details about the Stanhope empire: security, insurance, investments, property. There was a link to the personnel section. Fantasia’s handsome features stared out at her. This was definitely the woman she had seen in the chair.
In her office, Fantasia’s hand hovered over the console. “So, there you are,” she said. “Having a look at our web site. I knew you wouldn’t resist. Your IP address confirms it. My team are definitely in the right area.” She made a call to a silver Mercedes, patrolling the streets in Ankerita’s estate.
“Yes, Ma’am?”
“Danny, good to see you.” It was one of Fantasia’s management skills that she was able to remember the names and faces of every one of her employees. “How are you settling in after your recent move?”
“Comfortably, thank you, Ma’am.”
“Are you missing your last job?”
“Not at all, Ma’am.” Danny smiled.
“I don’t suppose you’ve heard from your former colleagues?”
“I think they’ve been told not to contact me.” His face clouded.
“And how does that make you feel?” Fantasia’s voice was coaxing, probing for a reaction. She got it.
“Let down.” Danny spoke a little too firmly. “After all those years in the Force, doing the right thing, and when I eventually found something a little weird, they hushed it up, and made me into a scapegoat.”
“And that girl?”
“I don’t know how she managed to escape, but I vowed to find her again, one day.”
“Not on company time, I hope, Mr Keech,” said Fantasia, half smiling.
“Of course not, Ma’am,” replied Danny, seriously. “I have been conducting enquiries, when I’m not working.”
“Any news?”
“I’m afraid not, Ma’am.”
Fantasia beamed. “I think I can help you. Would it interest you to know that the reason you are patrolling this estate is that I’ve had confirmation that your friend, Anna, is nearby? She was seen on the CCTV in a corner shop, and has been looking Stanhope up on the internet. I’ve narrowed her down close to your current location.”
Danny’s mouth was open. He shut it with a snap. “Are you sure it’s her?”
“H
ave a look.” Fantasia sent the CCTV images to Danny’s handheld.
“No doubt,” he breathed. “It’s her. She haunts me.”
“I had no doubts, either. She’s near you. Find her.”
Ankerita was slipping into bed when she heard a key in the front door. She put her dressing-gown on over the skimpy nightdress she was wearing while her ‘shrouds’, as she called them, were in the wash. She went to listen at her own door. “Thank goodness George is back,” she muttered.
Someone came into the downstairs hall. There was no welcoming call, but a murmur of men’s voices. Ankerita leaned against the wall, her heart pounding. Had they found her? If this was not George, she was in big trouble. Her bedroom door was locked, but she was trapped. She dashed over to the window, and looked down. There was a chance she could get out, and make an escape across the garden. It was a long drop, though. She cursed herself for not planning a getaway route. At least she could have put something beneath the window to make it easier to escape.
She heard men’s voices below. There was a slight accent, but the English was impeccable. “George. Where are you, you reprobate?” Footsteps sounded on the stairs. “Are you in bed.” They went past Ankerita’s room.
“El nu este aici,” said another voice.
“I can see he is not here. In English please, Mr Popescu. Remember, we are guests in this wonderful lawless country of opportunity.”
“Sorry Illy.”
“I suppose we should have called to let George know we were on our way,” said Illy’s voice, “but it wouldn’t have been a surprise check-up, would it?”
“Looks like the end room is where he’s camped,” said Popescu after a pause. “Are you having the master suite as usual?”
“Will do,” said Illy. “You have the other one with an en-suite, as George has got the back room.”
Ankerita trembled. It was her room Popescu was planning to take. The handle of her door turned.
“It’s locked,” said the man, in surprise.
“Can’t be,” said Illy.
Ankerita could hear someone trying the knob again. The door creaked as someone put their weight on to it.
“There’s someone in there,” said Popescu.
“I think you’re right,” said Illy. “If that’s you, George, it’s only Poppy and me, not the Swedish Ladies’ Football team after your body, as you might have hoped. Come on out and show yourself.”
“And if it’s not,” added Popescu, “you can come out, anyway. Don’t make us break the door down.”
“There’s probably a spare key downstairs,” said Illy. “No need to destroy the fittings, Poppy.”
“Right you are, Boss.” Popescu raised his voice. “If there is anyone in there, open now, or I’ll be moderately annoyed when I come in.”
“And you don’t want to see that,” added Illy.
There was no escape. Ankerita was trapped, and it would only be a few seconds before the men forced their way in. She took a breath, unlocked the door, and stood back.
“Doamne ne salveze, este o bucată amendă de Totty,” said the man recognisable as Popescu.
“Nici nu te gândi la asta. Nu e treaba noastră,” replied the other man.
“I thought you said you were going to speak in English,” said Ankerita indignantly, deciding that attack was the best form of defence.
“I’m sorry.” Illy recoiled in mock surprise. “Forgive me. I am Iliesca, but you can call me ‘Illy’, if I decide to like you. This great lump of gristle here is Popescu.”
The huge man eyed Ankerita up and down, and his face split into a grin, reminding the girl of a halved watermelon. “You can call me Poppy if you like.”
“And your name is?” Iliesca gave an encouraging smile, as Ankerita tried to pull her dressing-gown tighter.
“Anna Koress,” she said, determined not to give anything away, and returning the name she had used when first she escaped from the abbey.
“Now then, Anna Koress,” said Iliesca. “And what might you be doing here? I expected to find George house-sitting for us, and instead, I find a squatter.”
“I’m not a squatter. Is this your place?”
“What else would we be doing with a key?” He looked thoughtful. “Have you got any coffee? It’s been a long drive. You can explain your presence, while you make it for us. And none of that instant muck either. If George hasn’t got the grounds in, I’ll be docking his wages.”
Ankerita had no choice, and followed the men down to the kitchen. She fumbled with a fresh bag of coffee grounds from the cupboard it fell to the floor. “I’m sorry,” she faltered. “What are you planning to do with me?”
Popescu grinned. “We will think of something, depending on your story. Give me the bag. You can sit there and watch a professional.”
Ankerita shook with fear, fearful about what else was going to happen. She eyed the door. Could she make a run for it? Iliesca saw her looking.
“There’s no need to escape,” he said kindly. “You wouldn’t get far. If you’re not a squatter, I presume you know the man of the house. Where is he, by the way?”
“George went home for Christmas.” blurted Ankerita, and instantly regretted it. She should have said she expected him any minute. “I’m, er, looking after the place while he’s away.”
“Standing in for him?”
“Yes, of course. He wouldn’t leave the place empty,” she ad-libbed. “He wanted to go home to see his family.”
“You’re not his woman?”
Ankerita paused. How to answer this? If she said she wasn’t, these guys might not be so polite; if she said she was, would they believe her? “A friend,” she settled on. “A good friend... but not in that way,” she added quickly.
“Right.” Iliesca gave her a strange look. “As long as the house is occupied,” he said, “I’m happy. You don’t want to be paid I trust?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“That’s good, but I’m sure we can find something for you.”
“Seriously?”
“You are doing a job. You deserve to be paid.” The coffee percolator started to bubble. “Ah, five minutes should do it.” Popescu rubbed his hands and sniffed appreciatively.
“So, what do you do?” Iliesca prompted, squinting at the girl. “When you’re not hiding in bedrooms, that is?”
“Mostly hiding,” said Ankerita before she could stop herself.
“Hiding from what?”
“You wouldn’t believe me.”
They fell silent. Iliesca stared thoughtfully at the girl. She squirmed for a while, until he lost interest and started investigating the kitchen. “The gym door’s broken,” he said. “I must get someone in to fix it.”
Ankerita stayed silent.
“I’ve got coffee,” said Iliesca as his colleague popped a steaming mug of black liquid in front of him. “I’m not going anywhere. Tell me your story, Anna Koress, and I’ll tell you if I believe it.”
Based on what George had said about the house owners, Ankerita took a gamble, and decided to truthfully relate events so far. She left out the supernatural details, and the fact that she was five-hundred years older than the men, and concentrated on highlighting that she had been wrongly imprisoned, and was being hunted by both human traffickers and the woman, Stanhope, if they weren’t the same thing. The men seemed interested, and nodded sympathetically when Ankerita mentioned Fantasia. “So, I’m at your mercy,” she concluded hopefully.
“I know that woman,” mused Iliesca. “At least I know of her. Her family came over from the old country two generations ago, and they seem to be making good here. Why would she be after you, Anna?” He studied her face.
“I don’t know, I really don’t. But everywhere I go, these cars turn up, and they are after me for sure.” She took a breath. Oh fie, in for a groat, in for a mark, she thought. “I’m sure they are something to do with some people I got mixed up with last year. I e
scaped from them that time, but they won’t leave me alone.”
“Bloody slavers;” muttered Popescu, “so ‘last century’. I wondered if Stanhope was up to something like that. They give us real businessmen a bad name.”
“What makes you think they are still searching for you?” Iliesca stretched backwards in the kitchen chair. “Must fly over, next time,” he said. “I’m as stiff as a...”
“Poker?” suggested Popescu.
“I told you about that.” Iliesca grinned. “If nothing else, we behave like gentlemen here; remember that. We attract no attention.” He returned his gaze to the nervous girl. “Why do you think they are chasing you?”
“Every time I go out,” said Ankerita. “They turn up. Usually in a black Mercedes, but occasionally a silver one.”
“Like the one I saw up the road?” Popescu walked up the hall, and parted the curtains on the front door.
Ankerita joined him at a rush. “Just like that one,” she said, trembling as she recognised the car. It drove slowly past and carried on along the road. “I think I know the man in the passenger seat.”
“Are you alright, Anna?” Iliesca joined them. “You’ve gone white, well, whiter than you were before, that is.”
“I’m sure that’s the policeman who tricked me.”
“Are they the police?” Iliesca scowled. “I thought the Champions of the Law used cheaper crates. There’s no way they would drive something that obvious.”
“Especially around here,” added Popescu. “If someone is after you, that car must certainly belong to Stanhope.”
“I think there are people in there with her, Ma’am,” said Danny over the video link.
“How many?” Fantasia was thoughtfully tapping her fingers on the desk.
“Two, as far as I can see.”
“Can you take them?”
“They look tough. Their car has foreign plates too; from your family’s part of the world.”
The Summoning Page 18
