The Necronists

by J M Bannon

  There was no arguing with him. He was right, no one would dare think of saying a thing to her with the burly Pacific Islander hovering nearby. In a city containing every mix of race and creed, Pāora stuck out, finely dressed but covered head to toe in tattoos. Once Rose invited him to stay or rather insisted, he had settled into the house as the Major Domo and de facto security guard. The man never shared why he was so compelled to be with Rose and her family, only that after the incident on the Thrift, he knew he was destined to be with them. Violet also knew Pāora had secretly been receiving help from Oscar Owen's man to learn how to provide suitable service at the house.

  "Can you return at half past two to escort me home?" Pāora nodded in acknowledgment then rested his forehead on Violet's their noses touching. Violet had learned the Māori sign of affection and was growing used to it.

  Violet briskly walked to the front door, the March air was damp, and the overcast sky refused the sun an opportunity to burn off the cold morning air, even this close to mid-day. Before her foot hit the stoop, the door opened. "Welcome, Miss Caldwell," said the middle-aged butler. "May I take your coat?" Violet took the servant's help to peel off her wool overcoat. Anna Moore presented herself out from the front parlor. "Ms. Caldwell, I am overjoyed that you could attend to us today. I had hoped that we would have a more temperate climate and could luncheon in the garden, but we will take lunch in the dining room instead," greeted the young mistress of the manor. She wore her hair up and chose an embroidered light blue crinoline skirt with a fitted velveteen jacket to show off to her new friend.

  Violet, was already feeling overwhelmed, was it tea or lunch and does the change of venue mean anything? Her curiosity in knowing more about Jacob Moore encouraged her to accept Anna Moore's invitation, even at the risk of looking boorish.

  "I brought you a little something," said Violet handing a small box of candies to Anna.

  "Thank you very much, this confectioner is my favorite. Please come with me I have someone for you to meet." The two entered the dining room where an older woman was already seated.

  Could this be Anna's mother? Violet contemplated, attempting to calm herself. "Ms. Violet Caldwell, this is my aunt Cecilia Moore, my father's sister. She will join us for luncheon today."

  Violet's stomach sunk. She was already concerned with this affair and how to conduct herself but felt she could count on Anna's good nature to make up for any foibles of her manners. She thought quickly and gave the elderly woman cloaked in black lace a quick courtesy. Cecelia nodded in acknowledgment. "Have a seat dear," the woman offered.

  "Will Jacob be joining us?" She knew from the date of the invitation he had said he was otherwise engaged but she hoped he might at least drop in to say hello.

  "See Auntie, Violet can only think of Jacob. No, he’s at lunch with his old mates from his days in East India. That's all an excuse I believe, to stay distant. Don't lose heart Violet," added Anna who signaled the staff to begin service.

  "Your brother sees you're up to matchmaking again and doesn't want a part of it," said Cecilia.

  "Why don't you tell us about Paddington, young Lady?" Asked Aunt Cecilia.

  "There is not much to share, I live with my sister. She purchased the old Hawkin's Townhome and made the place habitable again," She was just about to say who lived there and paused out of embarrassment of her personal situation, so she shifted the topic. "We are originally from up north, Chester, to be specific where my father worked at a small grain mill," Violet offered with a nervous smile.

  "It must be difficult living in London with your circumstances," commented the older Lady.

  "What circumstances?" Asked Anna.

  "Her sister being a witch," offered the old woman as if it were a matter of fact while taking an egg salad sandwich off the tray the servant held for her.

  Violet wasn't thinking her sister would add to her notoriety, she was concerned of her daughter she had out of wedlock. She suddenly was feeling less hungry.

  "The Minister at our Parish says she is the sign of the end times,"

  "Aunt Cecelia, enough of that nonsense. If I knew you felt this way, I would not have invited you," Anna admonished.

  "I didn't say I felt that way, I just offered what our Minister said in his sermon the other day,"

  "My sister is an officer of the crown and some might argue with your Minister that if the Queen, the head of the Church of England sees fit to have appointed Rose as part of the police force that she has a rightful place in the Empire," defended Violet.

  "Well said," urged Anna.

  "So, she's not a witch?" asked Cecilia.

  "Correct, she is not a witch. Rose is about as far as you can imagine from that," asserted Violet. While she mindlessly put food on her plate in hopes the attending servant would leave and have at least one less person in the room.

  "Tell us, Violet. So, I can defend you and your sister and you can put this old bird's squawking to rest," said Anna rallying Violet's spirit.

  If I don't stand up for her who will. "Rose is a very devoted, faithful person she has always had a very strong spiritual bend, but it hasn't anything to do with a conventional religion. She tried that route and entered the convent at age sixteen, but before that, for as long as I can remember she has had visions and dreams. She used to share them with me at night as we would go to bed. Strange visions of angels and spirits, I thought as a little girl these were just stories she told me to help us fall asleep. After she became a nun, she had an experience where she came in contact with the skull of a saint that was kept in the reliquary of the nunnery. Just touching it she produced visions of the archangel Ariel who told her she would be the first in a line of humans to speak the language of the angels. Since then Rose has been tirelessly seeking ways to find the metaphysical truths of the universe. Her quest has put her at odds with the Church,"

  "You're Catholic?"

  I wouldn't refer to myself as a religious person and I can't speak for Rose, either. She left the sisterhood and has been doing her own thing for many years now. What she does is beyond silly concepts like witchcraft and wizardry, it is more scientific and spiritual. Yes, I have seen her do things you might say like casting a spell, or someone else may say performing a miracle but how she does it is different. She will often use a type of ancient relic, other times she builds these contraptions like a mechanist; but rather than steam and pistons it is powered by the mystical. If you were trying to pigeonhole her, I would call her an artist, not a witch."

  "Did you say an artist?"

  "Yes, like Leonardo Di Vinci, Michelangelo or Rembrandt. She is a creator and seeker of the truth beyond. The medium she uses is varied to suit the subject of study."

  That left the old woman puzzled.

  "You know the real issue I think is that those old men in the frocks have too much riding on this religious business and are afraid that a young lass might figure it all out in her basement without a man around to take credit," suggested Violet, feeling more confident. That made Anna and Cecilia chuckle and the conversation during lunch went to a lighter subject.

  Later after Aunt Cecilia left the two young women took a stroll in Regent's Park. There Violet got up the courage to turn the topic to Jacob and to probe the situation further. Although only the second occasion spending time together, Violet felt that Anna, while well-bred did not have airs and showed a true friendship towards her.

  "I think your brother is handsome and charming, but you come from a well-to-do family with deep roots in the community and Rose and I are simply two girls from the country and as you said, a bit notorious. My father held a poor reputation and if it were not for Rose's skills we would be on the street,"

  Anna explained, "Violet, my brother's issue is not with your station or your family name. If anything, he looks for controversy and adventure but you need to understand he is not who he used to be. Jacob never wanted to be in the Admiralty, he was a seaman before he was born," Anna leaned in and spoke softly. "As a commiss
ioned officer on a ship in the East India Company, he served in the protective fleet for years patrolling the trade routes through the Indonesian archipelago, a very dangerous business. The ship was lost in a storm, and we all thought Jacob had perished. He was gone for four years, but together with a small group stranded on a remote island, they survived. After the rescue, when he finally returned, there was an inquiry, and the case was sealed along with my brother's mouth on the incident. He was promoted in rank and became the undersecretary, but he never looked to the sea again and his demeanor is now melancholy."

  "And no-one knows what happened to him, to place him in this state?" asked Violet.

  "There were three other survivors. He still meets with them and they all keep mum on what occurred at sea and on the savage island they were stranded upon. So, he receives comfort from socializing with the other survivors, but that is all, and certainly not what I want for my brother. Jacob is a closed book to all but me I suppose, and I only get to skim the pages he lets me read. That is why when my brother mentioned you, I thought it was my duty to pursue this matter and see where things may go. I do so want him to be rid of those horrid nightmares and to get back to living," Anna said pulling Violet closer as they walked arm in arm.

  "I am unsure how much you may already know about my situation?" Violet said with a wavering tone.

  Anna gave her a look. "I don't give a lemon's pip for all that supernatural talk. And as far as your position, I am liberal in my thinking about classes, anyone should have the opportunity that you and Rose have to pull yourselves up."

  "It's more than that. It wasn't too long ago after my Pa passed, I was living on my own. You see, Rose had her own struggles, and I had no interest in making my trouble hers. I fell in…" Violet was concerned sharing this part of her past. While she loved her daughter and would not want anything to change, being a single unwed mother presented a stigma she was certain a family like the Moore's couldn't be affiliated with. More so, she was worried about losing a friend near her age. "You say you're liberal, but I wonder if you are broad-minded enough to believe I am worthy of your brother.”

  "You're going to tell me you have a daughter. I know, Jacob mentioned it after we met at the dress shop," Anna interjected.

  "Then why would you have invited me over if he doesn't approve?" Violet was confused.

  Anna laughed "He doesn't care and as I said earlier, whatever he suffered through in the savage jungles he believes is far more reprehensible than having a bastard child.

  "So, you have known this whole time." "Yes, and I worried you might blab that out over lunch with Cecelia and ruin any chance I have of getting you two together! Just because I know doesn't mean I consider it a topic for Christmas dinner. The best action is to keep that quiet and let me do what I can to persuade Jacob to conceive that he deserves a little happiness. I believe that whatever dark secrets he keeps makes him feel undeserving, and you, dearest Violet, given your circumstances, maybe just who our Jacob needs to remedy his situation."

  9

  Monday March 11th

  8:10 a.m. Scotland Yard, London

  The Detective's branch policy dictated for Detective to wear plain clothes; nothing Rose wore was plain. Riding pants and oversized white men's shirting made up the base of her uniform, deluxe casual clothes suitable for sport, liberating her from the constraints of the corseted silhouette. The attire allowed Rose to move as freely as her male counterparts. Along with her full length, oiled overcoat, she had commissioned a unique waistband from Parisian leather maker Louis Vuitton, a designer of luggage and intricate, lightweight leather goods. This belt held her supply of tools and tinctures. It coordinated nicely with her leather Hessian boots, made for her by the Duke of Wellington's personal equestrian tannery.

  Scotland Yard bustled with the comings and goings of police business at all hours. Yet when Rose arrived, many took pause to watch her as she proceeded with confidence through the doors of the police headquarters.

  Since Rose began her career as a Constable nearly three years ago the city and department had struggled with the constant influx of new citizens. This was a census year and projections cited growth by fifty percent to a sum of approximately three million people.

  Along with the building boom and new construction throughout the metropolis and outlying areas, the Yard had undergone an expansion in physical space and head count. The crime detection division counted nearly one hundred detectives and five special branches. The special branch of Paranormal Investigation and Crime Detection occupied a special section in the new addition. Rose Caldwell, Dolly Williamson, Adam Burton and the newest detective, Damian Shaw made up the Paranormal branch with Detective Inspector Williamson the commanding officer of the branch. The team had a small office off the main detective pen. Scotland Yard and the Metropolitan Police Force was growing as fast as the city. It stood to reason that as the population of London increased so would crime rates and the need for more investigators.

  Rose entered the office and threw her bag down onto her desk, across from Detective Burton. Detective Inspector Williamson dropped a wire-type onto her desk. "What do you make of this, Caldwell?" Asked the Scot. Rose gave it a read.

  INQUIRY REGARDING COLONIAL INCIDENT. SIMILAR CIRCUMSTANCES IN TERRITORY TOWN. ALL FIFTY DEAD .

  STRANGE CIRCUMSTANCE BODIES THE CAUSE OF DEATH APPEAR SIMILAR TO COLONIAL PER DESCRIPTION IN NEWSPAPER. REQUESTING YOUR HELP IN OUR INVESTIGATION.

  AWAIT YOUR REPLY.

  U.S. MARSHAL QUENTIN

  COLORADO TERRITORY

  "Do we know if this is a legitimate claim, this Marshal Quentin a credible source?" Rose replied handing the paper back to Dolly.

  "I am confirming through my channels the legitimacy of this Lawman, then we may share our evidence. As the ship departed from the United States, I don't see why this wouldn't get the thumbs up,” said Dolly.

  "My first reaction is to investigate, and see if they have a common metaphysical cause. We are the team most capable of helping," finished Rose. "Help Burton pull out all the files and get them together for review,” Dolly instructed looking through his reading glasses at the wire-type.

  "It sure would be nice if we still had the Colonial for evidence, don't you reckon?" asked Burton looking at Rose.

  "Well, under no circumstances would Spiros Saganaki allow a million pounds sterling airship remain Crown evidence," replied Dolly when he overheard his subordinates' complaint.

  "I heard he renamed the ship and has commissioned cruises in South America so that passengers never find out what happened aboard," added Burton.

  "We don't know what occurred, they worked so quickly to return that boat back to him. It would have been helpful to perform a complete investigation before they turned it back to the Greeks," Rose said crossing her arms and putting her boots up on her desk.

  "Rose, get that sour look off yer face and yer ass off the chair; help Burton go through the evidence. As soon as I receive permission the Home Office, I want to share our notes with the Marshal in hopes of reciprocity," said Dolly going back to his office.

  "The Zeus Colonial was traveling from America with Americans aboard when the incident happened. What was the name of the town the Marshal mentioned? I could review the ships passenger manifest and confirm if anyone was from this town," Burton suggested, moving from the office he shared with Rose to the file cabinets in the ward room. "He didn't mention the town," said Rose.

  Near the file cabinets was a large table for laying out evidence. It was already stacked high with file folders. Most of the files were the initial statements taken by constables or detectives from witnesses or victims believing they had been party to some supernatural event. The bulk were crackpots. A growing trend of "informants" hoping to secure a meeting with Rose, the famous White Witch of London, a moniker Gerald Welsh from the London Guardian had given her.

  She was a celebrity now with crime reporters noting where she had shown up to investigate utilizing her strange kit of po
tions; the case that thrust her into the spotlight was the Zeus Colonial.

  The Zeus Colonial incident had completely consumed the public imagination for months. The pleasure cruiser had left Boston with a planned arrival in Paris. The airship was discovered foundering off course, in Irish airspace when Her Majesties Air Service intercepted the ship. Upon boarding the marines discovered all passengers and crew deceased.

  Rose was quoted in the newspapers citing a supernatural influence as the cause of death. A death toll of one hundred and thirty-two from eleven countries was a tragedy. All that death combined with the international complexities of a Greek flagged airship crossing international waters from the United States to France, but ending up in the United Kingdom made for a complex and highly publicized case.

  Rose was thrust into the spotlight as the investigation became daily fodder for reporters across the globe. This was Rose's first highly media storm, others had been covered in the news but only after she had made significant progress or delivered a solution. The Colonial was different. The public obsession fueled the newspapers' frenzy seeking answers; just as she was conducting a detailed investigation, her superiors informed her that the ship was to be returned to Greece.

  She flipped through the files reviewing the evidence pictures and investigation notes. It took days, multiple investigators and photographers just to gather the standard crime scene documentation. Rose and Dolly's frustrations were compounded by the likeness of the victims to the Moya and Chilton cases. Those cases closed after the demise of the prime suspect, Angelica Moya. The Haitian Voodoo Queen murdered at the hand of a Necronist cult member. Rose witnessed the whole incident and knew with certainty that the powerful priestess was responsible for the deaths of Hernando Moya, Emilio Moya, Sir Francis Chilton, and Detective Cullam Keene.