Second Night

by Gabriel J Klein

  Daisy had duly sworn her solemn oath, donated the candles and suggested she talked to John about the chrysanthemums.

  ‘Goddesses are usually reckoned to be more cooperative if there’re plenty of flowers,’ she said. ‘Old Sir Saxon’s wife, Lady Christina, was always fond of Freyja the Golden by all accounts.’

  ‘I know. Sir Jonas told me. Why do you call her Freyja the Golden?’

  Daisy glared. ‘I’ve lived here all my life and in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m neither deaf nor daft, girl! That’s what she was always called here in the old days!’

  She saw the look of surprise and hurt on the girl’s face. There I go again, giving myself away and regretting it, she thought remorsefully.

  ‘Lady Christina had red hair too,’ she said, by way of a peace offering. ‘Did he tell you that?’

  Jemima forgave her on the spot. ‘No! Was it horribly curly like mine?’

  ‘We’ll have to check. There’s a pile of pictures of her hidden around here somewhere. We’ll have to fish them out and see.’

  ‘But not until after the ceremony,’ said Jemima. ‘I’ve got to concentrate or else I won’t get it right.’

  Buying the incense had been the biggest trial. It had taken a long ten minutes in the cough and choke shop, being accosted by the weird, pasty-faced witch woman and her fat friend. She had come away with a packet of White Jasmine incense sticks and a handful of their horrible gold and purple business cards.

  ‘Tell Sir Jonas we haven’t forgotten about the ballroom,’ sang Tairmair Folpham. ‘We’re always in need of good venues for our nature spirit conferences. We pay top rates, and if you ever need a tarot reading you know where we are. Or crystal healing. We’re very versatile.’

  The cards were dropped in the nearest litterbin and Jemima had held the incense to her nose all the way home in the bus, trying to get the reek of stale patchouli out of her nostrils.

  When she was satisfied that the altar was perfect, she knelt down and lit the candles. She kindled the incense, pressing the sticks into the soft black earth so that the white smoke curled upwards among the great boughs of the tree. The fragrance filled the air. She felt very ancient and holy, alone in that sacred place, but it was difficult to know what to say. Sir Jonas hadn’t mentioned anything about using special words and she didn’t want to overdo it. In the end she decided it was best kept simple and to the point.

  ‘I pray to Freyja, Golden Goddess, to help us find a Master of Hounds to buy Andy, our foal. He’s going to be an awesome hunter and only the best yard will be good enough for him. I will be very grateful to you if you would help him.’

  Nothing happened at first. The tree was silent. The candles burned. An ant busied itself among the flowers. She stood up slowly and bowed, first to the altar and then to the tree. A camera hidden in the boughs of an ash tree close by tracked her movements, recording her filling the silver jug that was always kept by the spring and watching her walking solemnly across the clearing to Bryn’s burial mound. A second eye, hidden in another tree, stayed focused on the makeshift altar.

  Jemima sprinkled the grassy mound with the water and arranged a handful of horse nuts in a horseshoe shape under the name on the white marker stone: Brynhilde.

  ‘We still miss you, Bryn,’ she whispered. ‘We’ll always love you and we’ll never forget you. I wish I had been able to ride you before you went away.’

  She looked around the great circle of trees, thinking that the clearing looked more like a well-kept garden than a wild place in the forest. Acorns and leaves and grass clippings had been left in neat piles under the perimeter trees. Her eyes strayed to the patch of worn grass and the stack of firewood beside the ring of blackened hearthstones. She didn’t need much imagination to guess who sat on the two timber blocks, cut from the base of a large tree, warming themselves at the fire on a long cold night.

  ‘I’m glad they don’t leave you all alone, Bryn. Caz misses you most of all, even though he’s got Kyri. I know you’re running wild and free with the gods, so don’t forget to put in a good word about Andy while you’re about it.’

  A light breeze, cool and insistent, whirled under the tree, catching at the candle flames and whipping the fragrant smoke around the clearing. A crow perched on the bough over the altar, its head on one side, staring cross-eyed at the bread. Nanna lifted her head and called as the bird swooped down and made off with the image of the goddess clamped in its black beak. Breathless with excitement, Jemima ran back to the altar. The candles and incense were blown out and an army of ants was swarming over the chrysanthemums.

  ‘We’ve done it, Nanna!’ she cried excitedly. ‘The Goddess has answered us! She has accepted the offering and she’s going to help Andy!’

  Dark purple clouds were swallowing up the white masses racing before them to shut out the sun. She slung her backpack over her shoulders and mounted the mare, eagerly searching the sky for another sign of favour. Briefly, the clouds parted. A single bright plume of vapour, crossed by a wisp of grey, spiralled downwards, slicing through the serene blue beyond.

  ‘A sword!’ she whispered, aghast. ‘It’s a sword!’

  The hidden eye in the ash tree zoomed in, recording the expression of horror on her face. The other turned towards the sky, but the heavens were closing over Thunderslea and the wisp of cloud was already breaking up.

  Nanna tossed her head, troubled by the trembling hands holding the reins. Jemima was shaking.

  It’s just a cloud, she told herself desperately. Not all swords are bad. Some are beautiful. I’m really sure it’s nothing to do with Andy. It can’t be anything to do with Andy. It must be something else.

  The mare backed away from the old tree, pawing the ground and calling out. Unchecked, she turned and galloped towards the tunnel with Jemima leaning along her neck, thankful for her warmth and speed. Only when the tree and the labyrinth were far behind them and she could see the tops of the tall chimneys of the manor house, did she remember a story Caz had once told her. She had forgotten to ask if it was true or one that he had made up.

  The sacred king saw the sign of the sword and it had been his doom. An army from far away lands had invaded his kingdom and the high priests and priestesses had sealed the holy places, sacrificing themselves to save them from desecration. Out of all the ruin and death, a hero arose and became the new king. He defeated the invaders and the gods loved him, but even he was doomed and was sacrificed and died young.

  CHAPTER 19

  The big table in the corner of the coffee shop was marked with two RESERVED signs. Caz pulled out the middle chair on the long side facing the wall. Lauren sat down. He went to the counter and came back with two mugs of coffee and took the seat beside her.

  ‘What’s happening?’ she asked.

  ‘You’ll see.’

  He turned and grinned at someone who had crept up behind her. She glanced over her shoulder. Jasper was looking down at her as though she was an insect. Seeing him close up for the first time Lauren thought his hair was prematurely flecked with grey and quite attractive, until she realised it was paint. She held out her hand. ‘Hello, I’m Lauren Taylor-Tanning.’

  Jasper raised an eyebrow. ‘A Titan, no less,’ he remarked, waving a languid paw to the group waiting behind him. ‘Be seated everyone.’

  He sat down opposite Lauren and made room for Sara beside him. Jemima took the seat opposite Caz. The others sat down in silence. Tristan squeezed in between Melanie and Kerys. They shuffled their chairs apart. Tristan mumbled his apologies. Melanie smiled. Kerys sighed. All eyes turned on Lauren.

  Jasper tapped the sugar bowl with a spoon. ‘Order, order! Let’s get this over with.’ He pointed to Caz. ‘Blood credentials, bro?’

  ‘Hot.’

  Lauren’s eyes widened. ‘Blood credentials?’

  Jasper ignored her. ‘Band practice report, anyone?’

  ‘Four,’ said Melanie.

  ‘Two,’ said Kerys.

  Julia nodded. ‘Two.’


  ‘Three,’ said Hayley.

  Lauren was mystified. They could only be talking about the number of times the girls had taken lunch breaks with her.

  ‘Password approval?’

  The girls nodded.

  ‘Tris? Loz?’

  ‘I’ve got the camera,’ said Tristan.

  ‘Fine by me,’ said Laurence.

  Jasper unwrapped a sugar cube and broke it in half. He put one half in his coffee and gave the other half to Lauren.

  ‘Titan it is then,’ he announced. ‘How soon, Loz?’

  ‘Tonight if you like.’

  ‘Good. Motion carried. Now Lauren can buy us all a muffin.’

  ‘But Titans are men, not women,’ objected Melanie.

  ‘They can be both,’ said Tristan, producing the camera.

  ‘How would you know?’ asked Jasper.

  ‘We did it in ancient history.’

  Before Lauren realised what was happening, there was a flash and she was on film. Fighting down every instinct to demand to see the picture, she turned to Caz. ‘Does this mean I’m branded?’

  ‘Looks like it.’

  ‘Does it mean I’m allowed to ask a question?’

  ‘You can try.’

  ‘What are blood credentials?’

  A general smirk zipped around the table.

  Jasper put his arm round Sara. ‘Speak up Loz!’

  Laurence grinned and dutifully obliged. ‘Blood credentials range from hot to glacial, with optional intermediary bubbling and sizzling stages.’

  ‘Basically you snog it, dine it, nuke it and leave it,’ put in Tristan.

  ‘More or less in that order,’ added Jasper.

  ‘This applies to either sex,’ said Sara quickly, glancing at Jasper.

  Lauren frowned. ‘I don’t follow. You’re talking about hooking up together, right?’

  Jasper nodded. ‘The very same boy meets girl makes sex stuff.’

  Tristan unwrapped four sugar cubes and laid them in a line on the table. He picked up the first one. ‘It works like this. You snog it in hot blood.’ He put the cube in his mouth.

  Laurence picked up the second one and fed it to Jemima. ‘Taste approval sets you bubbling.’

  Jasper dropped the third one into Sara’s coffee. ‘And sizzling nukes it.’

  Tristan crunched the last cube, looking forlornly at Julia. ‘As long as you leave before everything goes pear-shaped and you freeze-burn.’

  Lauren’s jaw dropped. ‘That’s outrageous! So where does love come into it? Or isn’t that allowed?’

  ‘That’s lift-off and can happen at any stage,’ said Sara, while Jasper drew circles with his finger on the back of her hand and smiled.

  Jemima spoke for the first time. ‘But we do have one, never to be broken rule, Lauren.’ Her tone was off-hand, even distant. ‘We might talk about sex but we don’t get personal, not amongst ourselves.’

  ‘Not ever,’ added Kerys.

  ‘But you all know my blood credentials now,’ said Lauren with an arch look at Caz. She saw him raise an eyebrow to Jemima and the almost imperceptible shrug in return.

  ‘We limit discussion to hot and glacial,’ explained Melanie. ‘Bubbling and sizzling stay private by mutual agreement.’

  The others nodded.

  ‘Okay, I get the picture.’ Lauren gripped Caz’s hand tightly under the table to make him turn and look at her. Now we’re official, she thought happily.

  Mary arrived with a plate of steaming muffins, mouth-wateringly delicious with dark chocolate. ‘They’re just baked so you’d better leave them another few minutes. I’m sick of being stuck here until midnight clearing up the mess of crumbs you leave behind you.’ She handed Caz the filled thermos, grimaced briefly and went back behind the counter.

  ‘One day that face of hers will crack open and she’ll frighten herself to death with a smile,’ observed Jasper.

  He clutched at his throat, his eyes glazing. Laurence tapped the sugar bowl twice with the spoon. Tristan sat up and hastily smoothed out his sugar papers. The girls shared out the collection heaped up around Caz’s coffee mug and searched through their bags for pens. Melanie loaned one to Tristan in exchange for a paper.

  ‘It is said that,’ intoned Jasper.

  ‘Who?’ asked Hayley.

  ‘Mary.’

  Caz scribbled a word on one of his papers and gave the pen and another paper to Lauren. ‘Write a word, any word.’

  ‘Just anything?’

  ‘Whatever you want.’

  Jasper collected the papers and laid them out in the middle of the table. ‘We have eleven words: kind, microwave, melting, knickers, hot, makes, smile, coffee, intergalactic, sizzles, cake.’

  ‘Tris always writes knickers,’ sighed Julia.

  ‘And of course Jas is responsible for sizzles,’ observed Sara, elbowing him sharply in the ribs.

  ‘Ouch!’

  Kerys began rearranging the papers. ‘Okay, I have nine words, without any help from Jas and Tris.’

  ‘Say on,’ said Jasper.

  ‘It is said that Mary smiles and makes hot, intergalactic coffee cake of a melting kind in the microwave.’ She sat back, triumphant. ‘How about that?’

  ‘Not bad,’ commented Caz.

  ‘Nice try, Kis,’ said Jasper. ‘But I think I can go the whole two words better.’ He reshuffled the papers. ‘It is said that only the microwave melting her kind of intergalactic coffee makes Mary smile as she sizzles hot cake in her knickers!’

  ‘Jas wins!’ crowed Laurence, thumping the table.

  The girls groaned and rolled their eyes. Tristan laughed and choked on his muffin, biting his lip. He tasted the blood, turned a sickly greenish colour and bolted blindly across the crowded room, taking a last minute turn to the left instead of the right, and vanished, gagging, through the door discreetly marked Ladies.

  ‘Nice one, Tris!’ someone shouted.

  A scream of laughter followed the initial stunned silence.

  Julia yelled after him. ‘Tris, you great goof!’

  ‘Someone help him!’ cried Melanie.

  Laurence pushed back his chair and ran after him.

  Gin promptly stepped out of her place in the queue. ‘Get me a cappuccino, will you, Bry?’

  ‘Call of nature I presume?’ said Bryony acidly.

  ‘Of the mating kind.’

  ‘Is Tris always so pathetic?’ asked Lauren.

  ‘He’s a musician, he’s naturally sensitive,’ explained Jasper. ‘Loz’ll sort him out.’

  Jemima watched Gin slipping through the door. She’s hunting like a cat, she thought, and Loz is her prey unless I’m very much mistaken. I wonder how long that’s been going on?

  Lauren thought it might be a good moment for a diplomatic diversion. ‘Does the game always turn out like this, Jem?’ she asked. ‘I mean, does someone always throw up?’

  Jemima pursed her lips. ‘No. Like a lot of things, it was better at the beginning.’

  It was an uncharacteristically cynical reply that made Sara and Melanie exchange looks in surprise.

  Caz’s eyes narrowed. Whatever she saw at Thunderslea has really upset her. When the sibyl speaks pay heed.

  Jemima shrugged. ‘It came out worse than it was meant.’

  All the same, she couldn’t make up her mind about Lauren. She was gorgeous to look at and seemed nice, but there was just something about her that made Jemima feel distinctly uncomfortable. Was the sword in the sky anything to do with her and Caz? Why did it feel that next time Jasper changed the password it would be the last?

  A great cheer signalled Tristan’s watery-eyed reappearance. Laurence hauled him back to the table and gave him a handful of paper serviettes. ‘Here, wipe your mouth.’

  ‘He really has thrown up!’ exclaimed Melanie. ‘Poor Tris!’

  ‘He would!’ said Julia cuttingly.

  Jasper squeezed the fragments of the abandoned muffin between his fingers.

  ‘Now, com
e along Tris,’ he said kindly. ‘You’ll feel all the better for a little light refreshment. Loz, hold him down.’

  ‘Don’t do this, Jas!’ warned Sara, watching Mary.

  Jasper grinned evilly. ‘Fresh and warm from Mary’s knickers. Heh, heh, heh.’

  The sticky brown lump circled closer and closer to Tristan’s injured lip. He struggled frantically, wailing, ‘No, Jas! It makes me chuck up!’

  The room went instantly quiet. Hayley giggled.

  Julia hissed. ‘I’ve had enough of us getting banned!’

  Mary wiped her hands and came round the side of the counter, her eyes fixed on Jasper. ‘Now what’s going on here?’ she demanded.

  Jasper palmed the incriminating sugar papers and slipped them inside Tristan’s jacket, whispering, ‘Sit down, Loz. Everybody stay calm.’

  Tristan collapsed on the floor.

  Mary glared down at Jasper. ‘What’s the matter with that cake?’

  He popped it into his mouth. ‘Nothing at all, Mary. It’s quite delicious. Same again all round, please.’

  ‘And who’s paying?’

  Jasper prodded the prostrate body with a booted foot. ‘Tris is getting this one and he‘ll have currant cake, won’t you Tris?’

  Lauren whispered to Caz. ‘Does Jas know about democracy?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But what did he mean about a password?’

  ‘It’s for the air band fan site. Strictly members only.’

  ‘Does that include me now?’

  Caz shrugged. ‘You put the sugar in your coffee.’

  ‘But he didn’t tell me what it is.’

  ‘Yes, he did. It’s Titan.’

  CHAPTER 20

  It was already more than a fortnight since Sir Jonas had telephoned Charles Fordham-Marshall. The month was rapidly passing by and he had yet to speak to Caz about the Guardians and the invitation to join their order. The perfect opportunity appeared to present itself one evening after supper when he found Caz in the library sitting cross-legged on the top of the ladder, with a book from the Arms and Armour section in his lap.

  ‘I thought I heard someone about,’ he said, doing his best to appear a great deal more affable than he was feeling. ‘Can I help you with anything, Caspar?’