Necropolis

by Wendy Saunders

  He glanced down at the offered card. If the symbol meant anything to him, he gave no outward appearance of recognition, he did however take the card and step back, allowing Mr Bower to enter. He laid the card on a small silver tray and lifted it with one white gloved hand.

  ‘If you would be so good as to follow me Sir,’ he intoned formally before turning on his shiny black shoes and heading further into the building.

  Mr Bower removed his hat and followed along behind, paying not much mind to his opulent surroundings. Although he’d not visited this particular establishment, they were all pretty much one and the same.

  They headed under an archway which led into a large cavernous room with a tall ceiling punctuated at intervals with elaborate and elegant chandeliers.

  The ruthlessly polished floors were covered with Persian rugs. Scattered throughout the room were groupings of high wing backed chairs, leather couches and mahogany tables. There were crystal decanters and assembled oddities from all around the world, from a stuffed elephant’s head mounted on the wall to a bronze statue of an African tribeswoman and an elaborate bowl made from what looked like a turtle’s shell.

  There was the unmistakable heavy scent of tobacco on the air and a low miasma of smoke hovering above the assembled gentlemen lounging around the room, speaking in hushed tones.

  ‘Wait here,’ the butler informed him politely.

  Mr Bower waited, watching as he crossed the room and stopped in front of a leather couch as dark and shiny as a conker. All he could see was a pair of pin striped legs and a large newspaper gripped at either side by two meaty looking hands, with a small chimney of smoke rising from behind the paper.

  The butler leaned in and spoke in hushed tones. A moment later the paper lowered and behind it was a large, solidly built man with an ample girth around his middle and a thick neck rising from his starched collar. He was bald as an egg with a shiny pate and a deep forehead.

  A fat cigar protruded from his lips, gripped by his teeth and partially concealed by a rather thickly oiled handlebar moustache. He glanced down at the card on the tray not even bothering to lift it.

  His dark, penetrating eyes crossed the distance between the two men. For a moment they were each locked in a silent perusal of the other. The man lifted his hand and removed the cigar from his lips exhaling a deep stream of cloudy smoke. He continued to stare at Mr Bower before finally placing his cigar back in his mouth and beckoning him forward.

  The butler bowed discreetly and disappeared as Mr Bower approached. The other man folded his newspaper neatly several times and placed it on the shiny leather next to him. Removing his cigar once again he began to speak, his voice gruff and to the point.

  ‘Bower I assume?’ puffs of smoke escaped his lips as he spoke.

  ‘It is indeed,’ he inclined his head at the recognition, ‘Abraham Bower. It’s an honor to finally meet you Mr Prentice.’

  ‘Wondered how long it would be before you found your way to my door,’ he growled as he nodded toward the high wing backed chair opposite him. ‘I’ve heard of you of course; your reputation precedes you.’

  ‘Reputation?’ Mr Bower queried politely as he slid elegantly into the offered seat.

  Mr Prentice took another long drag on his cigar, the cherry tip lighting up like a firefly on midsummer’s eve. He reached for a heavy decanter and poured himself a generous amount of the dark colored brandy into a squat, solid crystal glass. He lifted the decanter and motioned toward Mr Bower in invitation, but he declined the drink with a polite shake of his head.

  ‘Heard you were an ambitious little bastard, ruthless too.’ Mr Prentice told him. ‘Just returned from the continent, if I’m not mistaken.’

  ‘You are correct sir,’ Mr Bower’s eyes glittered, ‘on all counts.’

  Mr Prentice huffed out another cloud of smoke, followed by a small cough.

  ‘Why are you here Bower?’ he enquired directly.

  ‘I am about to make an acquisition,’ Mr Bower replied easily, ‘and I require a few good men to accompany me.’

  ‘If you have the coin you can hire them anywhere along the waterfront,’ Mr Prentice replied.

  ‘Hmmm,’ Mr Bower hummed in the back of his throat, ‘let’s just say I would prefer to keep it in the family, as it were.’

  His eyes dipped to Mr Prentice’s wrist as he lifted his cigar to his lips, and to the small serpent coiled ankh burned into his skin.

  ‘What kind of acquisition?’

  Mr Bower’s mouth curved slowly.

  ‘De Pereda’s Hourglass,’ he replied.

  ‘It’s a myth,’ Mr Prentice huffed, ‘lost for centuries.’

  ‘Apparently not,’ Mr Bower returned confidently. ‘I have it on good authority that it is housed in the Queen’s bedroom at Buckingham Palace.’

  ‘And you are planning to retrieve it?’ Mr Prentice cackled out a dry hacking laugh.

  ‘Not I,’ Mr Bower shook his head. ‘I have been informed that it is to be stolen this very night by two women.’

  ‘Women? Pah!’ he scoffed dismissively.

  ‘Not just any ordinary women,’ he continued, ‘one of them is a witch. There is some indication she may be able to conjure God Fire.’

  ‘God Fire?’ Mr Prentice’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, ‘poppycock. No one has ever been able to conjure such an ancient and elemental magic.’

  ‘It is as yet unsubstantiated, but I had a witness who saw first-hand that she not only conjured flames of multi-colored hues but also a dragon comprised entirely of flame.’

  ‘Where is this witness?’ Mr Prentice demanded.

  ‘I’m afraid he met with a small accident,’ Mr Bower replied easily, ‘but the woman is powerful enough to be able to travel by witch smoke.’

  ‘Witch smoke you say?’ Mr Prentice stroked his chin thoughtfully.

  ‘At the very least she should be examined,’ Mr Bower said.

  ‘What of the other?’ Mr Prentice demanded. ‘You said women, that implies more than one.’

  ‘The other has wings,’ he smiled slowly.

  ‘Wings?’ Mr Prentice’s eyes widened a fraction, ‘what is she?’

  ‘I do not know as yet,’ he replied, ‘but I have heard that Mr Faraday is rather partial to... curiosities.’

  ‘Faraday?’ Mr Prentice roared out a laugh and slapped his thigh, ‘by the Gods you are ambitious, aren’t you Bower. Very well, I’ll send a telegram to Faraday. You shall have your men, five of my best, that should be more than enough to retrieve two women and an old hourglass.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Mr Bower answered.

  ‘Leave your directions with Abbott,’ he nodded toward the old butler who’d once again reappeared. ‘The men will join you no later than six o’clock, I trust that should be satisfactory?’

  Mr Bower rose from the chair knowing when he was being dismissed. He inclined his head and followed the butler back toward the door. After leaving instructions on where Prentice’s men could meet him, Mr Bower stepped back out onto the street.

  Placing his hat back on his head, he grasped the silver pommel of his cane and walked away whistling tunelessly to himself as he did.

  14

  ‘Are you sure you want to go through with this?’

  ‘Would you quit asking me that,’ Olivia whispered loudly, ‘you’re making me nervous.’

  ‘I can’t help it,’ Elias replied. ‘I am nervous.’

  ‘Would you two be quiet,’ Scarlett interrupted, ‘I’m trying to listen.’

  Elias and Olivia both turned to look as Scarlett peered across the street in the dim lamplight.

  ‘Okay I think we need to move now,’ Scarlett decided. ‘Olivia we’ll cross the street and walk casually toward the gate, but we don’t want to get too close to the main entrance. See that column there?’

  Olivia followed her line of vision some distance to the right of the main gate, where two pale colored, square stone posts stood, from which ran tall black iron railings surrounding the
palace courtyard.

  Olivia nodded.

  ‘As soon as we reach that post we smoke inside. Can you see the third and topmost floor? We’re aiming for the sixth window in.’

  ‘Is that the Queen’s room?’ Olivia whispered.

  ‘No,’ Scarlett shook her head, ‘but it’ll put us in the general vicinity. The palace is running on a skeleton staff right now so with any luck we won’t run into anyone. Once inside I have a good idea where we’re heading.’

  ‘Okay,’ Olivia released a slow breath, pressing her hand to her stomach, which was jumping with nerves behind her tightly laced corset. ‘Let’s do this, let’s go rob her Majesty.’

  Olivia turned to Elias and wrapped her arms around him impulsively, hugging him tight.

  ‘Take care of yourself Elias,’ she murmured against his cold cheek. ‘Try and stay out of trouble.’

  She stepped back as she released him.

  ‘Olivia,’ he frowned.

  ‘You should go,’ she told him softly. ‘You don’t need to be here for this, and I really don’t want to risk you getting into any trouble.’

  ‘And who’s going to stop you from getting into trouble?’ he replied stubbornly. ‘No, if it’s all the same to you, I’ll just wait right here for you.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘Just call it a favor for my brother,’ he told her dryly. ‘I owe it to him to make sure you don’t get caught and hung for crimes against the Crown.’

  Olivia stared at him for a long moment until the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement.

  ‘Well, in that case…’ Olivia grinned, ‘wait here.’ She turned to Scarlett, ‘ready?’

  Scarlett nodded and they set off across the slushy ground at a casual pace as if they were just out for an evening stroll. They reached the first post and glanced around making sure no one was watching, then took a couple of steps further and as they reached the second post Olivia reached out and grasped Scarlett’s hand. There was a sudden swirl of purple smoke and they both disappeared.

  Scarlett blinked her eyes a couple of times but all she could see was pitch black.

  ‘Olivia?’ she whispered.

  ‘Hold on a minute,’ her reply came from somewhere in the darkness.

  Scarlett heard her snap her fingers and suddenly two delicate little dragonflies burst into a pale silvery light, dancing elegantly over their heads.

  ‘Well that was easy enough,’ Olivia murmured, turning to Scarlett who was watching her dragonflies in fascination.

  ‘Why are they silver?’ she wondered.

  ‘What?’ Olivia blinked. ‘It’s Buckingham Palace, are they not allowed to dress up a little?’

  Scarlett’s gaze lowered to Olivia’s as a small smile played on her lips. She watched as Olivia brushed her hand over her beautiful deep purple gown and as she did, it changed to a plain black dress with long sleeves which puffed slightly at the shoulders and over which a plain white bibbed apron sat. Reaching forward she did the same for Scarlett, watching in satisfaction as her midnight blue gown was replaced with a similar dress.

  Scarlett nodded in satisfaction.

  ‘Let’s get going,’ she glanced at her surroundings.

  They seemed to be in a long, unlit hallway. Scarlett turned her head, her eyes narrowing appraisingly as she raised her finger and pointed.

  ‘This way,’ she decided.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Olivia frowned, ‘you don’t seem sure.’

  ‘I am sure,’ Scarlett set off at a brisk pace.

  ‘How sure?’ Olivia followed along.

  ‘Hmmm, fifty percent,’ she concluded after a moment’s thought.

  ‘If we pull this off it will be a miracle,’ Olivia rolled her eyes.

  ‘So little faith,’ Scarlett smiled in the dim light. ‘This is a cake walk, trust me. You want tense? You should have been there for the Wilcox Train Robbery.’

  ‘The Wilcox…’ Olivia stopped dead and stared at Scarlett, who’d noticed she’d stopped moving and turned to look at her questioningly. ‘You were there when Butch Cassidy and his Hole in the Wall gang, robbed the Union Pacific train in Wyoming?’ Olivia said slowly.

  Scarlett shrugged. ‘I was going through a phase.’

  She turned and continued walking.

  ‘Wow’, Olivia mouthed silently as she jogged along to catch up to Scarlett. She shivered slightly, watching as her breath snaked out in a fine mist.

  ‘Why is it so dark and cold in here?’ Olivia wondered aloud.

  ‘Like I said,’ Scarlett replied, ‘there’s barely anyone in residence. Most of the wings have been closed down while the Queen’s not here. There are some guards and a few servants, but it’s not worth the cost of heating and lighting the place.’

  They heard a sudden rustling noise and footsteps. They both froze as a middle-aged man rounded the corner holding a lamp. He stopped and stared, his eyes widening as he saw them.

  There was a sudden crashing sound and he fell forward, slumping to the ground and releasing his grip on the lamp which smashed against the floor, sending a spray of oil and flames which began to lick across the carpet.

  Olivia sucked in a sharp breath and reached out, making a grabbing motion with her hand. The flames were quickly smothered by her magic leaving a faint hint of smoke in the air.

  Scarlett stared down at the unconscious man surrounded by a singed carpet, shards of glass and scattered chunks of Chinese porcelain. Her gaze tracked slowly up to Olivia who was standing there still clenching the broken neck of a priceless vase.

  Scarlett raised her brows slowly.

  ‘I panicked,’ Olivia replied wryly, wincing as she stared at the remains of the vase in her hand. ‘Do you think it was expensive?’

  ‘Early Ming Dynasty I’d say,’ Scarlett answered, ‘15th century. Probably about four hundred years old.’

  Olivia closed her eyes and shook her head slowly.

  ‘Thank God Roni isn’t here,’ she breathed, ‘she’d be having palpitations by now.’

  She made a dainty swirling motion with her finger and the porcelain pieces lifted from the floor, spiraling into a small funnel as they re-ordered themselves and fused back together seamlessly. By the time Olivia reached for the table alongside the wall and set the vase down, the last piece clicked into place and it sat on its lace doily looking as if it had never been damaged.

  Scarlett stared first at the vase and then at Olivia.

  ‘What?’

  Scarlett shook her head and turned, opening the nearest door and glancing into the empty room.

  ‘What?’ Olivia repeated.

  ‘Help me with him, will you?’ Scarlett lifted the man’s arms, as Olivia reached for his feet. Between the two of them they dragged him into the room and dropped him down on the floor.

  Olivia retrieved the lamp from the hallway, which curiously was also no longer broken by the time she placed it in the room beside his prone body.

  ‘He doesn’t look like one of the guards,’ Olivia stared down at him.

  ‘He’s not,’ Scarlett replied, ‘looks like a servant. Hopefully they won’t come looking for him, until morning.’

  ‘Better not take any chances,’ Olivia hunkered down next to him and pressed her fingers against his forehead. ‘Sleep,’ she whispered.

  As soon as she’d uttered the word a soft snore came from his throat, followed by a faint wheeze of air being expelled.

  ‘You’re a scarily handy person to have around,’ Scarlett remarked as Olivia climbed to her feet and moved to stand beside her.

  ‘He’ll sleep till morning now,’ she murmured, ‘as long as they don’t come looking for him, but we should pick up the pace, just in case.’

  Scarlett nodded in agreement and they both hurried from the room, clicking the door shut behind them.

  It seemed like forever they wandered the dark empty corridors of the palace, when in reality it had been maybe thirty minutes, when Scarlett suddenly stopped and opened the nearest door. Shaking her h
ead, she closed it and moved to the next one.

  ‘This is it,’ she whispered.

  She pushed the door open further allowing Olivia to step inside, followed by her dragonflies as they danced on the air and lit the way for them. Stepping inside herself, Scarlett quietly closed the door.

  She turned to find Olivia staring up at the tall ornate ceiling, made up of a massive geometric star surrounded by elaborate ceiling roses and geometric shapes. The walls were papered in pale green silk decorated with vertical vines entwined with delicate flowers. The walls were filled with huge, heavy gold gilded portraits of stuffy British monarchs and military heroes. There was a massive fireplace along one wall, bordered either side with walnut cabinets, laden with candlesticks and stone busts.

  Along the other wall was a table holding a porcelain wash basin and jug, and beside that was a writing bureau. But what dominated the room were the two huge canopies. One sat high up, almost to the ceiling above a massive bed. From it draped swathes of heavy jade velvet edged with a tasseled fringe. Its twin canopy sat across the room between two large windows and beneath it sat a couch in the same heavy jade colored fabric.

  Olivia’s eyes tracked across the room as she took in every detail, until finally her gaze came to rest on the mantle above the large fireplace. There sitting quite sedately, as if it had been waiting for them all along, was a small Hourglass.

  She crossed the room and reached out to pick it up. The dark colored wood felt smooth and cold, but then again, the temperature in the room was almost freezing. Her dragonflies danced and hovered above her shoulder, illuminating the rather unremarkable object in her hands. It was smaller than she’d imagined, barely bigger than the size of a can of beer.

  ‘Doesn’t look very impressive, does it?’ she glanced up at Scarlett, who was staring at Queen Victoria’s bed with a considering look. ‘What?’ Olivia asked curiously.

  Scarlett smiled and nodded her head toward the bed.

  ‘What?’ Olivia repeated.

  ‘How often are you going to get the chance to jump on Queen Victoria’s bed?’