The Amber Pendant

by Imogen White

  “Well, I wager the vagrants and the workhouse scum will be the first to be cleansed from this town once the shadows are walking,” Banks chuckled through a plume of smoke as he strolled away.

  “And it will be a kindness, I say,” Ormerod added, trying to curry favour as he beetled alongside the detective. “Let’s first collect the vessel of spiritual purity we need for the spell.”

  As their voices faded to silence, Rose let out the breath trapped in her throat.

  “Rose, I can’t believe we got away with that, but what are they collecting? It’s something to do with the spell. They plan to raise Verrulf!”

  Rose stepped onto the pavement. “We got to stop ’em.”

  “But, Rose, they’re after you.”

  “Then we have to be careful. I believe it all, Rui. Everything. That Verrulf, he’s real. And I am somehow related to his half-brother, Albion. This is bigger than my life, bigger than anything. If they’ve done something to poor Enna then it’s just down to us. And if they think I’m a danger to them, then we need to find out why – and fast. That pendant, my pendant, it tells me stuff. Enna said it would help me, didn’t she? We’ve got to find it so we can figure this out. Got to get to it before that lot do.”

  “We will find it first, because we have you, and the pendant calls to you, Rose. This situation is extraordinarily dangerous!” Rui raised his eyebrow, then grinned. “But it feels good, too. You agree?”

  “Yep.” She closed her eyes and breathed in, her adrenaline bubbling. “Right!” Rose looked down the road as the men began to disappear from sight. “Let’s see where this bunch of toffs are going. And then we’ll find out who has my pendant and get it back.”

  Neither noticed the pale face of a girl watching them from behind the curtains of the shop display, her white face framed by a shock of perfect blonde ringlets. Her mouth curled into a tight-lipped smile.

  Staying within the shadowed half of the pavement Rose and Rui followed the direction the brotherhood had taken, quickening their pace under the glare of each street lamp.

  “When we get back to the house we’ll see if you can make contact with the missing pendant,” Rui said, running along beside Rose. “And then tomorrow we will get word to my uncle and formulate a plan.”

  “I can see them. They’ve stopped,” Rose said, jumping to the side. She and Rui pressed themselves against Slater’s Ironmonger’s. Eventually Rose crept forward, signalling for Rui to stay behind.

  She returned a moment later. “They’ve gone into St Andrew’s churchyard. Quick, follow me, and stay low.”

  She lifted her skirt and coat to her knees and took off at a run. “I tell you what, you’re right about my new boots not being comfy. I can’t do anything in these heels, it’s like I’ve got a turnip nailed to each sole.” Her feet pounded the pavement at crazy angles. Rui chased behind.

  Rose flung herself below the churchyard’s flint wall and pulled her knees into the margin of its shadow. Rui copied, with Bahula crawling free by his side.

  Still catching her breath, she peered over the wall and squatted back down.

  “Can you see them, Rose?” Rui asked.

  “Yep, all of them by the looks of it, standing around a grave. We need to get closer; close enough to hear ’em.”

  A carriage clattered out from the road opposite. They waited for it to pass by, but instead it drew to a noisy halt about thirty feet along from them, by the pathway leading to the church.

  “Wait.” Rui leaned forward. “It’s theirs,” he said, pointing at the emblem of the black sun on the back.

  “Yep, the same one I saw at the house.” Rose nodded.

  The horses whinnied, their hooves scraping the cold road. Rose chanced another look over the waist-high wall. The men were chattering amongst themselves against the yellow light of a lantern, all of them looking in the direction of the newly arrived carriage.

  “Rui, this is our chance to get into the graveyard,” Rose whispered.

  Rui leaped up and grabbed Bahula. “Tally-ho,” he mouthed as he hopped over the wall. Rose followed, and they quickly moved behind the low branches of a yew tree. The canopy above cracked and shifted in the wind.

  Peering through the branches, they could see the men huddled together by the church now, the large graveyard spread out before them, unkempt and moody, with long grasses waving in the wind between the broken statues and fallen gravestones.

  “Good, they ain’t spotted us.” Rose flexed her icy fingers.

  “What are they up to?” Rui asked, straining to see. “Do you think we can risk getting any closer?”

  Rose nodded, and together they scampered from one tombstone to another, edging ever closer. Cloaked by darkness, they stopped behind a large stone angel covered in ivy, only a few yards from the men.

  Rui gave a satisfied nod.

  The brotherhood stood around a deep grave-pit with a high pile of soil stacked next to it. Snodgrass’s lantern swung in the wind, casting its light at different angles.

  A man dressed in a greasy coat leaned on the handle of a spade. He doffed his flat cap at Funnel. “I’ve dug the grave, nice ’n’ deep, Sir, just like the policeman said. And I kept a good watch over it ’n’ all. And no one’s said boo to a goose anywhere near.”

  Funnel dug deep in his pocket and flicked two shillings to the ground. The man fell to his knees. “Gord bless ya, Mr Stitchworthy,” he mumbled, stuffing the coins in his pocket.

  Rose and Rui looked at each other. Anthony Funnel had faked his own death and become Cuthbert Stitchworthy, and no one but she and Rui seemed to know.

  “That will be Mayor Stitchworthy, to you,” Funnel spat. “And mark my words, if I ever get an inkling you have opened your trap to anyone about this, I’ll feed your guts to the gulls. Have I made myself clear?”

  Terrified, the man nodded.

  Funnel leaned in close. “Now SHOO!” Jumping back, the man scooted off. “And take that stench with you.”

  How could Enna ever have liked Funnel? He’s so nasty, Rose thought, with a frown.

  Laughter echoed around the brotherhood as the poor man slipped in his haste to take the corner. He disappeared into the night.

  “Where’s Banks?” Rui whispered.

  Rose looked about. “He’s not here?”

  “So, let us begin!” Funnel spun round, his wonky smile slapped across his face.

  Several men took hold of the ropes coming from either side of the grave. To the whispered count of three they heaved, until a plain wooden coffin came into view. They dragged it out onto the damp grass.

  Funnel forced his cane under the coffin lid. “The cold ground,” he huffed, levering it open, “should have kept the body…fresh. Banks arranged for him to be kept here, ready for us to collect tonight. What better place to hide a body than in a graveyard, hey.” The coffin’s lid creaked open. He smirked and peered under the lid. Others clambered to look behind him.

  With a gasp, Ormerod backed away, his monocle dangling loose on its chain.

  “It’s perfect!” Funnel boomed. “Banks has done well and he will be rewarded. Get the body out, bag it, and take it to the carriage,” Funnel growled. “Where he – our vessel of spiritual purity – can be prepared in the shop cellar tonight, for his starring role at midnight tomorrow.” He rubbed his hands together greedily.

  Rui looked at Rose.

  “Prepared ready for the spell,” Rose asserted, peering back around the statue.

  “Now, we just need to find the blessed spell and the other pendant.” He stabbed his cane into the cold earth. “Tomorrow night is All Hallows, when the planets align and the supernatural energies will be at their zenith. There is no margin for error.” Funnel clapped his hands together. “Hurry along!” he barked at his men.

  Three of them tipped up the coffin and a body covered in cream silk thudded onto the ground. The head landed last, swinging to face them, a turban toppling loose from its head.

  Rose’s hand snapped to her
mouth.

  Mr Gupta’s bulging eyes seemed to cast a look of surprise in their direction. His hooked arm stretched towards them.

  “Ahhhhwoooohhh.”

  Bahula’s gut-wrenching wail filled the graveyard.

  Rui pulled Bahula back towards him, his eyes jammed open with terror.

  The men standing around the grave looked about at each other.

  “It’s him!” Snodgrass whined, pointing at the corpse. “His tortured soul has returned to punish us.” Backing away, he misplaced his footing and teetered on the edge of the grave-pit. He cried out, his arms flailing, only just managing to find his balance in time.

  “Quiet, Snodgrass.” Funnel’s good eye scrutinized the graveyard. Rose and Rui pinned themselves against the cold statue as his shoes squelched towards them. He leaned over, sniffing the air. Rose could hear his laboured breath above them.

  Just then, a freezing gust of wind whipped through the graveyard, bending the trees and tall grasses.

  Rui’s eyes squeezed shut, his lips moving as if in silent prayer. Bahula clung onto him, shivering. Rose dared not breathe as fear anchored her to the spot.

  Branches snapped in the yew tree behind them, drawing Funnel’s attention. “What the—?” Funnel turned. A large white owl broke free and swooped just inches above the men’s heads. It let rip an ear-piercing screech. The men lunged to the ground. Only Funnel remained upright.

  “An owl. See?” he confronted his men.

  Rui placed his palms together, looked up to the sky and bobbed his head in thanks.

  “Now, enough of this claptrap.” Funnel teased his sideburns. “This is no time for indecisiveness, Brothers.” He smiled.

  Their cheers and mumbles of agreement were cut short.

  CRW-aCK!

  Rose stiffened and slowly peered back round. Funnel’s cane had struck the side of the empty coffin. Grunting, he swung the cane high, and thwacked it again. Each strike shook Rose, until the empty coffin clattered back into the grave. Funnel wedged his cane under his arm and wrung his hands. “Bag him, Grobbs.”

  Funnel sauntered away with Ormerod and seven others, leaving Grobbs, Snodgrass and a man swamped in a cashmere coat by the graveside.

  Grobbs, an ox-sized man with a tiny head, stooped over the body and, with the help of the man in the big coat, shunted Mr Gupta’s corpse into a hessian tobacco sack.

  “Rose, how could they treat his body like this?” Rui sniffed, turning away to shield Bahula.

  Rose placed an arm around him, anger coursing through her. “Coz they’re monsters,” she hissed.

  Snodgrass grabbed the loose turban and readied himself to stuff it in the sack too, but then he paused and examined it. His thin moustache twitched.

  “He’s spotted the ruby, the greedy toad,” Rose murmured.

  The jewel glinted in his lamplight. Turning away from the others, Snodgrass prised it off. An oily smirk turned up the ends of his moustache as he stashed the gem in his pocket. Turning back, he shoved the turban into the sack with the body.

  “Let’s get out of here,” the man in the coat muttered. “I feel like we’re being watched.”

  “Yes, I feel it too, it’s the spirits of the undead,” Grobbs grunted.

  With the scraping and shuffling of booted feet, the three men dragged the sack along the path.

  Funnel’s carriage rattled away and the remaining figures departed into the windswept night. They were alone.

  “Where is that wretched detective now? He weren’t here with the others, was he?” Rose pressed her back against the angel statue and rubbed her temples, her teeth chattering against the cold.

  “This is deeper and darker than I could possibly have imagined,” Rui said as he stood up and gazed far away into the distance. “Banks murdered Mr Gupta, and now they plan to humiliate him further by using his body for this wicked spell. We must stop them.”

  “And Enna – they’ve done something with her ’n’ all.” Rose clenched her fists; she couldn’t bear to think about what might have happened. “Who can we trust?” She frowned as they sneaked past the tombstones and through the graveyard exit.

  “No one,” Rui said, his eyes fierce. “And who would believe us if we tried?”

  Rose knew he was right. Verrulf wanted to return to the earth, and only they could stop him. “Then it’s just down to us.”

  Rui nodded.

  The buildings of the Tamplins Brewery cut into the roadway ahead creating a dark bottleneck on the otherwise wide thoroughfare. They slipped down the narrow passageway separating the brewery from the shop opposite. Smoke still blew inland from the brewery’s simmering chimneys.

  Rose’s mind raced. So, Banks doesn’t have my pendant. Could Mr Gupta have been wrong about “JB” having it? But if he don’t have it, who does? Rose felt exhausted.

  The giant barrel of the gasometer came into view, signalling the junction of Sackville Road.

  “We’ve got to stop them – no matter what – from doing that necro-thingy, tomorrow night, when the planets line up,” Rose said, breaking through the silence again.

  Rui glanced back the way they had come. The road remained deserted right back to the brewery, but beyond that he couldn’t see. Satisfied no one had followed them, he nodded. “What we need now is a brilliant plan.”

  Rose agreed, her loose hair blowing wildly around her face.

  “We must hope the pendant tries to contact you again,” Rui said over the wind.

  Rose nodded. It was their only hope. With the pendant they could find the answers to everything. Of that she was certain. “And if the brotherhood don’t have it, we’re still in with a chance.”

  They both failed to notice the trail of Woodbine smoke carrying on the wind as they walked back past the shadowed alcove just a few houses before thirteen Sackville Road. Banks chuckled to himself as his shoe squished his cigarette butt into the pavement, obliterating it.

  There’d been no trace of Enna Lee at her caravan when they’d visited early the next day, and no clues left as to what might have happened to her. The man on the gate to the Pleasure Gardens said he’d not seen sight or sound of her since she’d left for the museum the day before. Which means the Brotherhood of the Black Sun must have… Rose couldn’t bear to think about it. Besides, Enna had told them to do what they could without her, and they had done just that. And now they’d formulated a plan: a brilliant one.

  “Any contact from the pendant?” Rui asked for about the twentieth time that day. It was seven o’clock in the evening as Rose changed into her disguise in the pantry cupboard.

  “Not a whisper,” she said, placing the last golden threaded scarf over her shoulder, just as Rui had instructed.

  “Fear not, it will happen. We must be patient a little longer,” Rui said. Rose hoped he was right. They were depending on it. But in the meantime, they’d spent the day doing everything they could without it.

  Rose sniffed the material, which smelled of faraway places. Places where people laughed and monkeys roamed freely. She touched the jewel hanging from her hairline and smiled to herself.

  “So,” Rui broke into her thoughts from the kitchen, “we have seen the Brotherhood of the Black Sun and we now know that our missing, and presumed dead, Anthony Funnel has changed his identity and become the Mayor of Hove, and goes by the name of Stitchworthy. We also know that the police are involved.”

  She could hear Rui pacing backwards and forwards on the tiled floor. “But, the spell they require will already be halfway to London town by now.”

  “Yep.” Rose grinned.

  That morning, they had carefully wrapped Mr Gupta’s journal and taken it to the post office addressed to his uncle, the maharajah, who was staying at the Savoy Hotel in London.

  “Meanwhile,” Rui continued, “our urgent telegram should already be with my uncle.” Rui recounted its message with gusto:

  “GRAVE DANGER (STOP) WILL BE ABOARD LAST TRAIN TO LONDON VICTORIA (STOP) BRINGING FIRST CLASS COMPANION
(STOP) IN DISGUISE (STOP) TRUST NO ONE (STOP) THIS IS REAL NOT HOLMESING (STOP).”

  And he’ll help us find Enna Lee, Rose thought, biting her lip. “But, do you think your uncle will believe you? You know, with all your ‘Holmesing’ and what have you.”

  Rui ignored her. “Plus, I have managed to compile some notes in our decoy book.”

  Rose tapped down her disguise. She loved it. No silly stockings and heavy dresses – this was the sort of outfit you could run in, and from what Rui had told her, probably ride elephants too, she imagined with a quick smile.

  Rui didn’t even notice her when she stepped out of the pantry. Standing with his back to her, he held the decoy booklet aloft – now carefully covered in a piece of embroidered silver Indian silk. They’d purchased the booklet together at Hanningtons department store in Brighton Town earlier that day. “It’s not an exact replica, but at a glance it looks the same size as Mr Gupta’s,” Rui said to himself. He stroked the eye that had been made using a mussel shell from the beach, and painted by Rose, and which now sat stuck fast to the front cover.

  He paced backward and forward, still not noticing Rose. “I have filled it with nonsense. But, importantly, nonsense written in Sanskrit, with diagrams of the Amber Cup and a few astrological red herrings. It should be enough to intrigue, and buy us some time, should we get caught – which we won’t.”

  “Brilliant,” Rose beamed. “Really brilliant!”

  “Quite.” Realizing she was there, Rui spun around. “R-rose!” he managed. His jaw dropped and Bahula’s head popped up from the pile of fabric heaped up on the kitchen table.

  “You look so beautiful,” Rui said in awe. “Every inch an Indian princess!”

  Rose’s smile lit up her face. She did feel beautiful in these clothes.

  “Now hobble,” Rui instructed.

  Rose’s smile fell. “You what?”

  “Remember, you are disguised as my Great-Aunt Uma, who is sixty-three and sadly riddled with arthritis. So support your back with your hand.”

  “Right. Like this?” Rose did as he instructed.