by Pat Spence
Kimberley looked at them, then raised her eyes to meet Mr Nelson’s. “Even their children haven’t aged,” she said excitedly. “How do they do it?”
Mr Nelson leant forward and said conspiratorially, “Something to do with crystals. I’m still working on it.”
“Sounds like new age gobbledegook,” said Kimberley disdainfully.
“Oh, this is the real thing, I quite assure you,” he said seriously.
She sat and thought for a moment, letting her brain compute the information, then turned back to the private detective.
“Mr Nelson, I’m no fool. Images can be manipulated. These pictures are not proof. I’m going to need something more than this.”
He looked at her without smiling. “Dear lady, one thing I would never take you for is a fool. You have been more successful in turning base metal into gold than any living creature. Perhaps you’ll let me continue?”
“Go ahead.”
“I’ve taken the liberty of booking you in to Hartswell Hall as soon as it opens. Second week in May. Giving you the opportunity to see the de Lucis family for yourself. The proof you seek will be in front of your very eyes.”
“Then what?” she asked. “If they truly have discovered the secret of eternal youth, they’re not just going to hand it over to me, crystal or otherwise. What we need is leverage. Some means of forcing them to share their secret.”
“All in hand, dear lady,” smirked Mr Nelson, and threw his last photograph on to the desk. “Emily Morgan, seventeen years old. Lives in the village. An ordinary college student…”
“Hm. Pretty, I suppose. But what’s she got to do with anything?” snapped Kimberley.
Mr Nelson smiled horribly. “A few weeks ago, Theo started a relationship with Emily. They are, by all accounts ‘in lurve’. It would seem that Theo would do anything for Emily.” He paused, letting his words hang in the air.
“You mean trading the family secret to ensure her safety ….” said Kimberley softy.
“Dear lady, you read my mind,” he said.
“Mr Nelson, you are brilliant. I could kiss you.” She thought for a moment, and said, “But I won’t.”
Mr Nelson sat back in his chair, puffing on his pipe and feeling pleased with himself. He’d found the proverbial goldmine and could see large rewards coming his way.
* * *
As the last of the guests left Hartswell Hall just after midnight, dark shapes and figures could be seen gathering in the fields around the mansion and a strange hissing filled the air. To the uninitiated it sounded like a hundred airbeds were being deflated.
To those who were attuned, words could clearly be heard, carried on the breeze, “Crysssssssstal… cryssssssssstal… cryssssssssstal. Give usss the crysssssssstal …..”
A large black panther with yellow saucer-eyes bounded down Hartswell Hall steps and made its way speedily through the grounds, dropping to its belly as it approached the fields, every sinew and every muscle tensed in anticipation.
Overhead an eagle flew, wings outstretched and talons at the ready. Together they struck: silent, ferocious and deadly.
For a few seconds, the air was rent with screaming and thrashing as teeth and claws, beak and talons did their worst. The black figures were torn to pieces without discrimination or mercy, fronds and shards of dark matter littering the grass or picked up by the breeze and dispersed into the hedgerows and trees, where they snagged on branches like flimsy black rags, flapping in the cold night air. Such was the ferocity of the attack, it was over in minutes.
Surveying the massacre and ensuring all were destroyed, the predators retreated as speedily and silently as they had attacked. One to the air, the other back into the undergrowth.
Slowly but surely, the pieces of dark matter were absorbed into the atmosphere, each becoming gradually more transparent before disappearing entirely, leaving not a shred of evidence that minutes earlier the field had resembled a battlefield.
Only one small shadow remained, hidden in the undergrowth, wounded and flailing but not destroyed. Once the predators were gone, it cautiously broke cover, looking around for other survivors. Finding none, it crawled to the edge of the field and lay waiting, weak and wounded, silently watching for some life form to appear. A sheep or dog would do, but a human was preferable.
The battle had seriously depleted its strength, and its energy was all but gone. It needed to feed quickly if it were to survive. As if in answer to its prayer, old Grace Wisterley stepped obligingly into the field, shot gun at the ready, eyes peering through the darkness. She’d heard noises and was determined none of her sheep would die that night.
“Come out, yer blighter,” she said into the night, “show your face. I’ll make short work o’ thee.” She shone a torch around the field but could see nothing out of place. “Just as well I penned the sheep up las’ night,” she muttered to herself.
The shadow crept up silently behind her, and in an instant it attached itself to her back like a limpet, feeding off her energy field. Grace walked on, unaware of the parasite she’d picked up, flashing her torch and peering through the dark for any sign of the predator she knew was out there. She checked the pen and finding all her sheep accounted for, walked back to her house, feeling suddenly heavy and tired and old.
“Crikey, Grace Wisterley, yer age is catchin’ up wi’ thee,” she muttered to herself.
The shadow continued to feed, getting stronger with every mouthful of energy it consumed.
* * *
Back at Hartswell Hall, in a small underground room beneath the Clock Tower, a door opened and Theo stepped over the threshold, cautiously looking around him. Fortunately for him, he hadn’t been missed.
25. Granddad
At 6.30am, I opened the church door and once again ran down the hill towards my house. I’d spent a cold, difficult night in the church, trying to sleep on one of the pews. It had been a futile exercise. The heating was switched off over night and I was freezing.
On the few occasions I managed to drop off, my fevered imagination created such horrors, I woke within minutes, heart beating rapidly and bathed in a cold sweat. In one nightmare, a blue crystal hovered before me, but when I reached out to touch it my hand turned black, and stumbling backwards I felt a black beast sink its teeth into my shoulder. When I turned round, I was faced with three luminous beings firing bolts of lightning from their fingers, each one searing and burning my skin.
In another, I saw Theo ahead of me in a dark passageway and ran to keep up with him, but always he was one step ahead and I just couldn’t reach him. I called his name again and again, and when finally he turned round, his face looked different. Blood-red eyes shone through the darkness and when he smiled at me, he revealed huge white vampire teeth stained with blood. At one point when I woke, I could swear I heard screaming and crying somewhere outside, but as I strained to hear more, all was quiet and still, and I decided it was yet another nightmare. Eventually, not wanting to risk sleep any more, I sat in the cold until I saw the first rays of dawn break in the sky.
Arriving back at home, I let myself in through the front door and attempted to climb the stairs and creep into bed. But my mother surprised me by coming through the lounge doorway fully dressed.
“Oh, there you are. Where d’you think you’ve been all night?” her voice had an edge to it I didn’t like.
“It’s not how it seems, mum, I wasn’t with Theo.”
My reply seemed to surprise her. It was obviously not what she’d expected to hear.
“Well, if you weren’t with Theo, where were you? This had better be good. I’ve been sitting up worrying half the night. Every time I phoned you I got voicemail.”
I thought quickly, I had to find some excuse that sounded plausible. Secret passageways, blue crystals and eternal youth would not go down well.
“For a start, I’ve lost my phone,” I said, “I can’t find it anywhere. That’s why you couldn’t reach me. I was in the church.” I decided hones
ty was the best policy, well up to a point.
“The church? What were you doing there?” This was a curved ball and took her by surprise.
“I, er, went to pray,” I said, failing to convince even myself.
“To pray? You're not even religious. Since when did you go to the church to pray on a Friday night? Please credit me with a little more intelligence and at least come up with a more plausible excuse.”
This was not going well. I tried one more time.
“I’ve been studying George Herbert’s religious poetry for English, and I decided I wanted to look in the church. While I was there, I decided to say a prayer for Granddad, then when I came to go out, the door was locked and I was stuck overnight. I couldn’t call because I didn't have my phone. Believe me, it’s not an experience I want to repeat. It was freezing and I didn’t sleep. I only got out when someone unlocked the door.” It was as close to the truth as I dared tell, just a couple of small white lies in there.
My mother looked at me as if I’d totally lost my marbles.
“I guess you’d better go to bed for a while. Just as well it’s Saturday.”
I climbed the stairs to the landing, then called softly back, “How’s Granddad?”
My mum looked up worried. “He’s okay, but he’s not getting any better. I may ring for the doctor this afternoon. We need to keep an eye on him.”
“He won’t like that,” I commented. “Once I’ve had a sleep, I’ll sit with him.”
“Thanks, Emily, he’ll like that.”
I went into my bedroom and crawled into bed fully clothed. Worn out by the events of the last two nights, I fell immediately into a deep, dreamless sleep and didn’t wake until two in the afternoon. I showered and pulled on fresh clothes, then went downstairs. My mother was sitting in the breakfast room, drinking tea.
“Would you like a cup? There’s tea in the pot,” she said.
I poured myself a cup and proceeded to make myself cheese on toast.
“You had a good sleep,” she commented, coming into the kitchen. “Do you feel a bit better now? I can’t believe you spent the night in the church.”
“Neither can I,” I said, and that was most definitely the truth. “How’s Granddad?”
“Still not good, I’m wondering whether to call for the doctor. Have you seen him?”
I shook my head. “I’ll pop in when I’ve eaten.”
As soon as I saw Granddad, I knew something was wrong. The room felt hot and airless, and the curtains were partially drawn, keeping out the daylight. Granddad lay back on the pillows, his eyes closed, face pale and his lips a blue colour. He seemed to be having difficulty breathing.
“Granddad?” I called, trying to rouse him. “Granddad, can you hear me?
His eyes flickered open, trying to focus on me.
“Emily?” he said faintly.
“Don’t try to speak,” I instructed him. “I’ll get mum. You don’t look well.”
His eyes flickered shut again and his breath sounded ragged and shallow. I ran to the top of the stairs and called down to my mother.
“Mum, mum, I think you’d better call an ambulance. Granddad really isn’t well. I don't know if he’s had a heart attack.”
My mother appeared downstairs carrying the portable phone.
“Let me see,” she said and ran up the stairs into Granddad’s room. She took one look at him and said, “Right, I’m dialling 999. Hang on in there, Dad, we need to get help.”
Ten minutes later, the paramedics arrived and my Granddad was on oxygen. It seemed to revive him a little and he gave me a weak smile. They placed him on a wheelchair, wrapped him in blankets and carried him carefully downstairs.
“Can I come with you?” I asked, as they wheeled him into the back of the ambulance.
“Yes, that’s fine,” answered the young male paramedic who was tending him. “He may have had a mild heart attack, we need to get him to hospital as soon as possible.”
“I’ll drive behind in the car,” said my mother, her face white and drained.
In no time we were at the hospital and Granddad was placed in an Assessment Bay. A young male doctor came to see him immediately.
“We need to get him up to the Assessment Ward straight away and ensure he’s stabilised.” Seeing our distraught expressions, he added kindly, “ Please don’t worry, he’s in the best possible hands. Wait in the Relatives’ Room and we’ll let you know as soon as you can see him.”
My mother and I waited, barely speaking, for what seemed an age.
“He can’t die,” I said tearfully, “he’s the only Granddad I’ve got.”
Eventually, a dark-skinned nurse in a starched white uniform, with a jolly Caribbean accent informed us that we could see Granddad.
“We don't think he’s had a heart attack,” she informed us. “It’s more likely he has bronchitis and needs antibiotics. We’ve booked a chest x-ray and will know more then.”
Granddad sat up in bed with a clear oxygen mask around his face, attached by a tube to a large oxygen canister. He looked much better than I was expecting and even managed to smile.
I put my arms round Granddad and gave him a big hug.
“Gramps, you had us worried,” I said. “I thought you were at death’s door.”
“Glad to see you’re looking better, Dad,” said my mum. “Sorry to get the ambulance, but I didn’t have any choice.”
“I know,” he said through the mask, “don’t worry, I’ll be back at home in no time.”
He wasn’t though. While the x-ray showed no evidence of a heart attack, it did reveal that he had emphysema of the lungs, which was not good news. We were told it was too risky for him to go home while he had a chest infection and that he needed to stay on oxygen until he’d stabilised. There was no cure for emphysema, it was a chronic lung condition probably brought about by many years smoking Woodbine cigarettes when he was younger, and in latter years a pipe. We sat with Granddad until early evening when it was obvious he needed to sleep. The sister suggested we go home.
“I’ll call you if anything changes,” she told us, “but the best thing you can do is get some rest and come back in the morning. I’ll take care of him, don’t worry.”
My mother drove home slowly, both of us shell-shocked. Granddad was the lynchpin that held us together. We simply couldn’t comprehend a world without him. At home, we drank sweet tea to give us energy, but neither of us had much appetite. My mother sat in the lounge watching Saturday night trivia shows on television, but taking nothing in. I went upstairs and lay on my bed, feeling empty and strange. I thought about the last few days and all that had happened. It seemed dreamlike and remote, as if it had happened to someone else, and I could hardly focus on any of the detail. The reality was Granddad lying gravely ill in hospital, suffering from a condition that would never get better and which would eventually kill him.
If only there was a magic potion, I thought, that would heal his lungs and make him better. Then I remembered the kitten. Violet’s kitten that I’d seen run over and killed in that terrible accident, then miraculously brought back to life with no apparent injuries or after-effects. And what about the old people at the Blue Moon Ball? Those gnarled old fossils who’d been restored to youth. Would it be possible? I hardly dared hope… I knew the de Lucis family had the power to heal and restore. All I had to do was ask Theo. They had the blue crystal. If it could keep them young for centuries and bring a kitten back to life, then it could surely heal Granddad’s lungs.
I went downstairs to find the portable phone and took it back up to my bedroom. With trembling hands I dialled Theo’s number. As I waited for him to pick up, one hand went subconsciously to the crystal hanging round my neck and squeezed it tightly.
Then Theo was speaking on the phone. “Emily, are you alright? What’s happening? Are you in danger?”
“No, no,” I’m fine,” I said, unsure what to say next. Then suddenly my words came out so fast they were falling over one
another. “It’s not me, it’s Granddad. He’s in hospital. It’s serious. We thought he’d had a heart attack, but it’s bronchitis. They’ve done a chest x-ray and discovered emphysema. Theo, he could die.”
“Emily, I’m so sorry,” he said gently. “It must have been an awful shock for you and your mother. Do you want me to come over?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” How could I ask him? I had to. He was the only person who could help me. “Theo, I need your help.”
“Yes, anything, just say.”
“Anything?”
“Anything within reason, Emily.” I think he was beginning to see where this was going.
“Can you make him better, Theo? Like the kitten and those old people at the Blue Moon Ball? Can you use the blue crystal?”
There was a silence on the other end of the phone. Then he said, “It’s not quite as simple as that, Emily. We can't make an old person young and well again. It’s not possible.”
“But you brought the kitten back to life.”
“That was different,” said Theo. “The kitten had a faint pulse when we picked him up. He was badly injured but his life force was strong. We were able to heal him. Your Granddad no longer has that life force. We can’t make him young or healthy again.”
“But you made all those old people at the Blue Moon Ball young again?” I persisted.
Theo sighed. “Emily, they were young when they first used the crystal. That’s the way it works. It restores you to the age you were when you first used it. The only reason they were ageing is that it was time for them to renew their energy. At your Granddad’s age, he’d never survive the crystal’s power. He’s not strong enough. And even if he did, would he want to stay at that age forever? For all kinds of reasons, it’s not possible.”
“So you won’t do it?” I asked.
“Not won’t, Emily, can’t.”
“You mean we’re not rich enough,” I said coldly. “I remember what you told me. ‘Eternal youth doesn’t come cheap.’ What you really mean is my Granddad isn’t wealthy enough.”
