Autumn

by Lisa Ann Brown

  “We’ve found another shield,” he said abruptly.

  Arabel hissed out a breath. “D’you think Minnie’s murder is related?”

  Zander nodded solemnly. “Undoubtedly.”

  “Will you take me to it?” Arabel asked him.

  “Yes, it’s not far from here, we can walk.”

  Zander led the way toward the edge of the forest, away from the buildings of town and the hum of the people gathered. The forest surrounded Arabel and Zander as they picked their way through the muddy slopes and gullies and across fallen branches and other natural casualties of nature. Neither of them spoke. The few birds that were enjoying the quiet of the woods chirped occasionally, their shrill birdsong piercing the air intermittently with their calls, but the sound was not as beautiful as it was haunted, and Arabel detected the sorrow in their utterings.

  “Why, the very birds are in mourning today,” Arabel remarked softly and Zander glanced at her.

  “Yes, ‘tis a sad day for all,” he agreed.

  They came eventually to a denser part of the woods, a place where the redwood trees grew closely together. It was as if the forest had banded together in knitting a web of obstacles for weary travelers to traverse; a desire to pass meant threading through the majestic trees and careful consideration was needed to gauge the maze. Arabel was glad they were on foot; it made the darting back and forth much easier. They soon approached a vast clearing upon a hill, a spot Arabel was unfamiliar with.

  “I don’t recognize this place,” she said.

  “Barely anyone comes through here,” Zander replied. “Must be why they chose it for their ceremonial spot. It would have afforded them a great deal of privacy and given them time to enjoy their murderous activities.”

  The clearing was pleasant enough looking, a large flat expanse at the top of the hill with knotted pines and weeping willows dotting its landscape. But for the blood stained shield resting against a hardy oak, the clearing reminded Arabel of what would surely be a perfect spot to picnic.

  This shield was larger than the last one and covered in fresh blood, as if it had needed its power source renewed or replenished. As if the shield had needed yet another innocent death in order to rise to its full expression of dark strength. Arabel shivered.

  The birdsong had completely ceased now and the air seemed to prick her very skin with the shadow of lingering evil. Above Arabel’s head, she noticed the moon had risen in the sky although it was not even mid-day. The floating globe looked eerie, shining overhead, with no trace of the sun visible.

  “We found it this morning, well, rather, some of the other Gypsies did. They went this way to view the murderous offering at the Great Torch, and when they came back, they told the Council. Xavier sent me to scout it out. “

  “When will it be destroyed?” Arabel questioned.

  “As soon as possible. Tonight, most likely, if you’d like to come.”

  Arabel nodded. “Most definitely I would like to be there.”

  Arabel walked up to the shield, noticing its energy field pulsating as she approached it. If she quieted her mind completely, she could hear the cries, the voices of the tortured souls locked within its black boundaries as they begged for the merciful release of death. As they implored their captors for anything but the grey half-dark of the shield’s endless prison.

  Arabel sensed suddenly that she and Zander were not alone in the desolate clearing.

  Arabel immediately put a finger to her lips to ensure silence and alerted Zander to listen. Distinctly, Arabel heard the snap of a twig not far from where they stood, and then the muted sound of conversation. Two men were approaching the shield. Was it the murderers come to claim their bloody shield?

  Zander grabbed Arabel’s arm once again and they hid under the scrub brush nearby and waited to see who would arrive at the clearing. The voices were louder now but Arabel could not make out the identity of the speaker, nor clearly comprehend the sentences being uttered. Her heart raced and she wondered what she and Zander would do if they were confronted by the Dorojenja.

  Arabel twisted the protective ring Mireille had given her and uttered in her head the words to the easiest protective spell that Xavier had taught her. Arabel felt Zander’s mind closing in with hers, joining her in creating a protective web around them, and she tightly gripped the athame she kept upon her person at all times.

  The two men came now into view and Arabel gasped when she realized who it was: Mr. Akings and Sully!

  Zander sent Arabel a questioning look and she telepathically sent him her insight into the identities of the approaching men. Arabel was mystified as to what business the two men could possibly have in this place of death as she did not peg them for members of the secret society of evil.

  “He said it was here, somewhere around here,” Mr. Akings was saying.

  Sully bobbed his head up and down in agreement.

  “Yes, he did say somewhere in the clearing, but what good will it do us to find it?” the larger man replied with a small amount of whine to his voice.

  Mr. Akings looked briefly annoyed as he surveyed Sully.

  “If we can find them once, then that means we have found them!” he declared rather sharply.

  Arabel wondered whom the two men sought to find. Their friend was dead, they knew that, so it could not be him. Had Indra Northrup had an accomplice that Mr. Akings and Sully were now desperate to find?

  Arabel bit her lip in confusion as the two men gained ground. They were now directly in front of her hiding place with Zander. Arabel barely dared draw a breath for fear of exposure. She watched as Mr. Akings scoured the clearing with his eyes, searching. Arabel was certain they would see the shield any second now, as they were not far away from it at all.

  “It was here! It was here, I say!” Mr. Akings cried, shaking his grey head in consternation. Sully looked at him with patience.

  “Well, ‘tis plain to see it no longer abides here,” he said companionably, which appeared to irritate Mr. Akings no end.

  “We must find it!” Mr. Akings exclaimed and Arabel was certain now that they were referring to the Dorojenja wheel of death.

  “D’you think they returned for it already?” Sully now asked as the two men poked and prodded the bushes, searching.

  “Oh, poor Indra!” Mr. Akings moaned. “Why did he ever get caught up in such evil mischief?” The old man began to sob and Sully moved at once to him and comforted him with a bear hug.

  “We’ll find it yet,” Sully consoled his friend. “Don’t fret.”

  Arabel knew she had to speak with them. She carefully leaned over to Zander and whispered her thoughts to him. He nodded in agreement and the two of them emerged from the scrub brush, slightly less than clean, and made their way to the strange duo of Mr. Akings and Sully.

  “You!” Mr. Akings cried upon seeing Arabel.

  “You were at the inn!” Sully exclaimed.

  “Hello again Mr. Akings, Sully,” Arabel said. “This is Zander Cross.”

  Zander nodded a quick greeting to the two men and let Arabel take the lead on questioning them.

  “What are you looking for?” she asked.

  “Why, we were just out taking a stroll,” Mr. Akings stammered, his sad face reddening slightly with the lie. Sully glanced over at him in surprise.

  “This is not the way in which to assist your deceased friend,” Arabel said calmly, bartering on their sorrow to ease her way into a truthful account of their activities.

  There was a long pause as the two men exchanged guilty glances. Finally Mr. Akings broke down.

  “We were searching for the shield, the one from the secret meetings. Indra told us about it and said they met here twice a month to perform some ritual. Some blood ritual.” The small, sad man shuddered as he pulled a worn hanky from his pocket and loudly blew his nose.

  “Indra was part of a secret society?” Zander queried, his tone excited.

  Arabel glanced at him; she could see Zander probing Sul
ly’s easily penetrated mind and she watched the blue flow of energy as Zander tracked the movements of the man’s thoughts telepathically.

  Mr. Akings bowed his head, his features drawn and solemn.

  “He’d found his one true love, Alice-May Marpole, and he swore to do what he must in order to save her.”

  “What does that have to do with Indra’s involvement in the secret society?” Arabel asked.

  “Why, it was the only way he could befriend Alice-May without her husband learning the truth, miss. Indra loved Alice-May, and she returned his affections, but her husband weren’t in no way one to make do with being cuckolded! So, Indra joined up with the husband’s secret society to cover up their acquaintance,” Mr. Akings explained, blowing his nose again.

  “Who is Alice-May’s husband, pray tell?” Zander asked.

  “Why, Saul Porchetto,” Sully put in and Arabel’s heart leapt at recognition of the name.

  “Porchetto! The Gypsies my grandparents were involved with!” Arabel exclaimed in excitement.

  “Well, I don’t rightly know nothing ‘bout that, miss,” Mr. Akings replied. “I only know poor Indra died and there’s somethin’ fishy goin’ on with those meetings he went to so’s he could see his love. He fell hard for Alice-May and they made plans to run away together but I reckon we all know how that tale ended.”

  Sully let out a low mournful sigh and pulled out a worn hanky of his own and proceeded to loudly blow his nose as well. Arabel turned to Zander.

  “At last we have a name,” she said excitedly.

  Rain was falling now with a monotonous frequency and Arabel felt her cape beginning to soak through with moisture. Ira suddenly reappeared, his black feathers gleaming with wet beads and he shook himself before landing upon Arabel’s waiting shoulder. Ira nuzzled Arabel’s neck and sent her pictures, yet again of the thief Jonty Governs, apparently the bird’s favourite subject. Although Arabel had not asked Ira to continue to watch the small man, the bird had made it his mission to make sure the thief obeyed the directives of the Gypsy Council, and Arabel was certain that the bird kind of had it in for the thieving fool.

  Jonty was in his mother’s caravan and he was alone. A knock on the door sounded and Arabel saw him open the door, and the look of fright which immediately overtook him. Hands reached out to enclose themselves around the circumference of the thief’s unwilling neck. The choking pressure began immediately and Arabel could feel traces of it upon her own person.

  “Jonty’s in trouble,” she said urgently to Zander.

  Ira cawed loudly, flapping his wings emphatically, and Arabel’s expression was worried.

  “We must go to him,” Arabel said quickly and Zander did not question her. “But we must hide the shield, first.”

  “You know about the shield?” Sully asked in surprise.

  “Yes, but I don’t know what you wanted to find it for,” Arabel replied.

  “Well, we reckoned if we could find it, we would know we’d found the spot where the meetings take place, and we could spy on them, and maybe do something to help poor Indra!” Mr. Akings said wearily.

  “You can still help Indra, and Alice-May,” Arabel said and hastily laid out a course of action for the two men to follow.

  Arabel advised them to go to Chief Constable Bartlin and to supply him with the name of Alice-May’s husband, and to inform the Chief of the secret meetings Indra had been a part of. Arabel knew the Chief would be most interested to hear about the mass hypnosis techniques Indra had been taught; she was well aware also that the Dorojenja would know soon enough that their secrets were slowly but surely becoming exposed.

  “But we will lose the element of surprise, miss; Porchetto will know we’re on to him!” Mr. Akings protested.

  Arabel surveyed him patiently. His grief flew off of him in multiple waves of sorrow; she wished to lighten the sad load he carried in his heart, not add to it.

  “You were never any risk to Porchetto, nor indeed to any of the evil folk responsible for the murders,” Arabel replied softly, “but you can help Indra and Alice-May now by telling what you know to the Chief.”

  Mr. Akings nodded slowly and Sully did as well.

  “We’ll do that now, then, miss,” Mr. Akings said, tipping his old cap to her briefly, and then the two men shuffled off in the direction of town.

  “Now,” Arabel said, “we must hide this evil thing before anyone else comes!”

  The two companions quickly hid the bloody shield under some stout bushes and placed large rocks around the outside, effectively camouflaging the evil talisman. Arabel found that when she hazarded to touch the dark object, her very skin recoiled and the screams inside of her head multiplied to the point where she had to let go for a moment, in order to breathe. Zander seemed unaffected but Arabel was sure he could both feel the murderous energy and hear the screaming soul destruction of the victims.

  Arabel was glad to leave the haunted clearing and make their way to the Copse. Every step they took away from the Dorojenja ceremonial site lightened her own energy field until she felt the evil dropping away from her, thankfully unchaining her mind from its dark embrace.

  Arabel could see a faint trail of astral energy hovering above them as they hastened toward the Gypsy encampment. It was the only part of Minnie Carlyle that was not trapped within the shield.

  Minnie was confused. She did not understand what had happened and she did not know where she was. Arabel felt her heart wrench as she realized Minnie had likely been the same age as herself, but unlike Arabel, Minnie would never know the joys of loving. Minnie would only know the pain of death and the half-dark of eternal imprisonment within the negative forces. Locked within the evil shield, Minnie cried out in pain and fear. Arabel felt as if her own head and her own heart would wrench themselves into unbearably broken pieces if they couldn’t free the unfortunate souls soon.

  Zander put his hand on Arabel’s arm briefly, grounding her.

  “We’ll set them free, Arabel,” he promised.

  “We have to!” she cried and Zander nodded solemnly.

  “We will.”

  When Jonty’s mother’s caravan came into view, Ira flew ahead of them, calling raucously and imperiously. Arabel could hear the bird very distinctly, “Quickly!” the bird was screeching. “There’s not much time left!”

  The door to the caravan was open and Arabel saw the thief lying on the floor of it, his face ashen, his chest still, and an expression of utter horror upon his countenance. Arabel feared they were too late, that the thief had already expired.

  “We’re too late!” Arabel exclaimed in misery.

  Zander moved quickly to Jonty and laid his hands upon the thief’s head. Zander shut his eyes and his lips began to move in a silent chant, reminding Arabel of Francesca’s chanting at the séance. Zander moved his hands from Jonty’s head to his neck and then to his chest, resting them above the thief’s heart.

  Slowly, Arabel detected a slight rise and fall beginning from within Jonty’s chest.

  “You did it!” Arabel cried out happily and Ira chortled and cawed his approval, hopping from one foot to another in some weird and humorous corvid celebratory dance.

  Zander’s face was flushed; his green eyes a bit wild.

  “They’re on the move,” he said thickly and Arabel had no idea what he meant. She was about to question him further when Jonty’s mother appeared, rushing up to the caravan door.

  “What is goin’ on in here?” she called out warily.

  Zander poked his head out and she calmed immediately.

  “Mrs. Governs,” Zander replied evenly, “it appears Jonty has had an unfortunate mishap. You will need to keep him still, and safe. Do not let him leave and do not leave him alone!”

  Mrs. Governs quickly agreed and together they moved Jonty onto the small cot in her main living space, obviously where the thief had been sleeping for the past while.

  “What did they do to him?” Mrs. Governs asked and Zander quickly ex
plained how they’d just found the thief unconscious.

  “He’ll be alright,” Zander said. “But we must leave now and speak with the Council.”

  Arabel and Zander left the woman tending to her son and Ira communicated to Arabel that the danger had not yet passed for Jonty; the evil would return to finish the job left undone.

  “Why did no one know that Alice-May’s husband was Saul Porchetto?” Arabel asked Zander. “It doesn’t make sense. Saul is a Gypsy; surely someone in the Copse must have known who he was married to!”

  Zander’s eyes were troubled green orbs. “I’d no idea Saul was even married. He must’ve had some reason for keeping it secret. I’d never met Alice-May in my life; nor was she residing here with Porchetto in the Glen. I’ve never been particularly friendly with him.”

  “And he has a partner, at least one; I’ve seen two men in my dreams.”

  “I’ll let the Council know and we’ll ascertain who Porchetto has ties to, see if we can’t figure out why he’d have kept his marriage a secret. There must’ve been some logic to it.”

  “When you were attending to Jonty, you said someone was on the move; whomever did you mean?”

  Zander turned to look at Arabel, surprise showing clearly upon his handsome face.

  “Strange,” he said slowly, “I don’t recall that. In fact,” Zander ran a hand through his unruly auburn hair, “I no longer have any memory of even helping the thief!”

  Arabel set her jaw firmly; it was as if Zander had suffered an involuntary memory-wipe. Arabel could feel the danger lurking in the air, waiting. The grey energy behaved as if it had all of the time in the world in which to strike, and it preferred to indulge itself in a long, heavily drawn-out stage of play.

  You will not win, Arabel declared fervently in her mind to the pervasive grey energy. I promise you, you will not win!

  Arabel heard the guttural laughter in her head. It was getting closer.

  An Understanding of Sorts

  Arabel shifted her feet somewhat impatiently as Mrs. Ingemyer pulled her closer and almost stabbed her with a pin.