Luke had taken a seat on one of the village benches allowing himself the time to decide what he would and would not buy. He’d been sitting for almost five minutes, having finally made up his mind, when, in amongst the crowd, he spotted a familiar face passing by. Immediately, he stood to get a better look waiting patiently for the crowds to part. Several seconds passed before he spotted the figure again. There was no doubt this time. He’d spotted Alexander from the previous night.
Leaving the bench, he began to follow him dodging in and out of the mid-day shoppers until he was only a few feet behind. He was preparing to tap Alexander on the shoulder when his prey turned sharply off the main high street to follow a narrow isle which ran between two cottages. Luke stopped at the entrance to this alleyway. He watched from a distance as Alexander continued down. At the far end of this Isle, on the right hand side, there hung from a wooden beam a small shop sign. It read: Chatterton second hand books. Just as soon as Luke had read these words, Alexander, with a quick glance behind him, had nipped under the sign and entered the bookshop himself. Once again, Luke decided to follow.
~ ~ ~
There was no sign of Alexander as he stepped into the second hand book shop. An elderly lady sat knitting behind a small table. A cash machine, just as old, sat on the table in front of her. To her right, three long rows of book shelves ran. At their end Luke could see a corridor, itself piled high with books, running off to the left. There were only a handful of customers browsing in the shop. A tiny bell which hung above the entrance door rang as Luke had entered. The old lady had glanced up from her knitting and smiled at him before returning to her work. Luke walked slowly over to the first bookshelf. He pretended to browse the books, his eyes instead searching for any sign of Alexander. When, after almost five minutes of scouring the shop’s floor, there was no sign of him, Luke decided to follow the corridor which sat at the end of the store. The corridor was narrow and was made even more difficult to navigate by having pile upon pile of dog-eared books lined up on either side. Eventually, having accidently displaced several of these books, Luke reached the end of the corridor. He now stood in a far smaller room which boasted only two shelves both running straight down its middle and very nearly reaching the ceiling, such were their great height. Luke could see a tiny door at the far end of this room. Other than the door, the shelves and the customers who browsed, there was little else to be seen.
He walked towards the shelving and took out the first book he came to. Once again he pretended to read while his eyes flitted about the room in search of Alexander.
“You want to know what happened to the boy, don’t you? That’s why you followed me here, isn’t it?”
Luke froze. The voice had come from the other side of the shelf.
“It’s in their blood, Mr McGowan. That’s where you’ll find the answers.”
Slowly, Luke replaced the book. He’d almost slotted its tatty frame back into its gap when he glimpsed Alexander’s tiny, little eyes staring at him through the same space.
“Did you know that if you were to research their bloodlines, the English aristocracy could be traced right back to the Sumerian empire? Did you know that?”
“Mr Simmonds?”
“That’s right young man. It’s me. We have to be so careful meeting like this. If we’re seen it could be very dangerous for me. I hope you can appreciate that, Mr McGowan?”
“Dangerous? I’ve been hearing that word a lot of late.”
Alexander’s eyes darted frantically about the book shop. A few of the other customers, their reading having been disturbed, glanced disapprovingly towards them.
“Please, Mr McGowan. Not so loud. I’m being dead serious here. We have to be so very careful.”
Luke’s back was beginning to ache. Tired of having to stare through the shelving, he walked briskly to the other side and confronted Alexander head on. Mr Simmonds looked terrified as Luke approached. He clasped one of the books tightly to his chest as if Luke were about to punch him and held it there throughout their ensuing conversation.
“I want answers Mr Simmonds. I want to know everything you know about the Chatterton’s and this damned village,” Luke now hissed. Mr Simmonds was perhaps no taller than five foot and Luke easily towered over him. “Is that perfectly clear?” Luke continued.
“Perfectly,” Alexander stuttered back. “Please, Mr McGowan. Control yourself. I’m not the one you should direct your anger at.”
Luke glanced around the book shop. The place was filling up quickly with other bibliophiles and he didn’t want an audience.
“Look. Is there somewhere quiet where we can talk? I’m tired of running around like this.”
“Yes. Of course. Just follow me Mr McGowan. There’s a back room we can go to,” Alexander nervously replied turning quickly and heading for the small door which sat at the end of the room. Luke followed him.
~ ~ ~
“Do you want coffee? Or perhaps you would prefer a nice cup of tea? We have both.” Alexander asked once Luke had seated himself. As Luke had expected, the room they’d entered was small, cramped and piled high with books. There were books cluttering the table and books which cluttered up the sink. There were books everywhere.
“We?” Luke asked.
“Father?” Mr Simmonds called out.
Slowly, from behind one of the book piles, a head appeared. The head belonged to that of a very old man. A huge grey beard and moustache covered the majority of his wrinkled face and when eventually he hobbled clear of the books, clutching his walking stick for dear life, Luke could see that age had bent him over and that he was almost blind too.
“This is Albert Simmonds. My Father,” Alexander explained.
Albert looked no younger than ninety. He walked slowly over to where Luke and his son now sat holding out a frail hand to their new guest.
“Albert Simmonds. Nice to meet you young man,” he then spoke.
Luke took Albert’s hand gently and said, “My name’s Luke McGowan. Do you want to sit down? I don’t mind standing.”
“Stay where you are, young man. I try not to sit down. It’s a bugger getting up again,” Albert replied smiling. All of his teeth had gone except for one front tooth that was badly chipped and yellowed. “I prefer to stand these days.”
“Coffee or tea, Luke?” Alexander continued. Albert already stood beside the sink slowly removing the books which had taken route there. Eventually, from beneath these books, a small and rusted kettle was uncovered.
“Ah, I knew it was here somewhere,” Albert then proclaimed carefully lifting the kettle from the sink and placing it gently on the basin. “What was it he said he wanted, Alexander?”
“Luke?”
“Oh, tea would be just fine thank you, Mr Simmonds,” Luke replied.
“Sugar?”
“Two, please.”
“Two sugars Father!”
“Sugar, did you say?”
Alexander sighed. Leaving the table, he walked over to where his father stood and, leaning into his ear, said, “Our guest would like two sugars please, father.”
“Two sugars, you say? Right you are. Coffee with two sugars coming up.”
Alexander was about to correct his father when Luke held up his hand. Smiling he said, “Coffee will be fine too, Mr Simmonds. Please, it’s no bother. Let you Dad make what he wants.”
Alexander nodded. Patting his father gently across his back, he returned to the table.
“Very well Luke. Coffee it is.”
“Thank you.”
“You like our little office?”
“It is very small.”
“Father owns the bookshop. Has done for years. Ever since I can remember. Do you like to read, Mr McGowan?”
“Occasionally. I like crime fiction. Sometimes horror. It all depends on my mood.”
“Of course. Well, as strange as it may sound, I can’t stand books. I’m one of those types that starts a book and never finishes it. I’ve never had the pa
tience, you see. As you might imagine, I’ve had endless rows with father down the years. I think he wanted me to take over the shop one day. Shame really.”
“Look. I don’t want to appear rude, Mr Simmonds, but I’m not here to understand your family history. As interesting as I’m sure it is, I have other questions which I need answered.”
“Yes. Yes, of course. Forgive me Luke.”
“I want to know what happened to the boy from last night. You said something else too. You mentioned something about blood lines outside. What were you on about?”
Alexander looked suddenly serious. He looked more than worried.
“Yes. I did mention something about that, didn’t I? That particular topic has been playing on my mind for many months now, you see.”
“Here you go my dear boys!” Albert suddenly proclaimed. Two cups of strong coffee had been made. Having placed them both on a tray, he now hobbled over to where Luke and his son sat. Luke stood up to take the tray from Albert’s shaky hands. Alexander shifted several books from the table’s surface as Luke then placed the tray carefully on top.
“Thank you my boy,” Albert spoke. He then pulled out a small stool, which had been hiding beneath the table, and sat down. He groaned as he sat almost dropping his stick in the process.
“Are you okay, father?”
“Yes, yes. Stop fretting, my child. I’m fine.”
“Very well,” Alexander replied handing Luke his cup. “Luke was asking about our research, father. He’s a good man. I think we can trust him.”
Albert lifted his head slowly and looked Luke directly in the eye. From beneath his beard, Luke could see a smile forming. Albert turned to look back at his son and said, “Are you so sure about that Alexander? We have to be certain.”
“Look. I don’t remember talking to you about research, Mr Simmonds,” Luke then spoke.
“The blood lines. I was telling you about the blood lines, remember?”
“I asked you what happened to the boy first of all. I think that’s where I’d like to start.”
From underneath the table, Albert reached down and brought up a thick volume. Slamming the book across the table he then said, “My son was trying to explain what may have happened to the boy, Mr McGowan.”
Luke studied the book’s elaborate cover. He could see a dozen or so medieval knights battling several large dragons. Two of these knights were mounted on horseback their spears thrusting into the lizard’s open mouths.
“My son told me about the incident last night with the runaway. He told me all about it.”
“Is the boy safe?”
“For now. Yes. I believe he is,” Alexander spoke. “But for how long, I can’t be sure.”
“Well, either he’s fine or he isn’t. Which is it?” Luke continued.
“It’s not as simple as all that, young man,” Albert broke in. “We have our suspicions but so far very little evidence.”
Alexander leaned forward in his chair. Pushing aside his cup of tea he then said, “As you know already, Luke, I run a small home for boys just outside the village. I have done so for years. The boys are sent to us from the cities, you understand. It’s very rare that we have a child from Chatterton Village. We can take twelve in total. I run a very small home, you see.”
“Go on,” Luke urged.
“Well, it’s difficult to explain really. It all sounds so far-fetched.”
Albert began to open the book. He carefully flipped over the pages searching for one in particular.
“I started looking into our problem six months ago,” Alexander spoke softly. “I mean, we started to take the rumours more seriously. There’s always been rumours, you see. That’s all part of village life. People like to gossip. Things can get all blown out of proportion.”
“What problem?” Luke pressed.
Alexander and Albert exchanged uneasy glances.
“We’ve always had runaways, you see. That’s all part of running a home. Over the past two decades I would say we’ve experienced half a dozen or so trying their luck. The majority are found and brought back safely. The others vanish into the cities. We never hear of them again. The police don’t seem to care. It appears that kids from broken homes don’t matter as much to the authorities, you see. It’s almost accepted they’ll end up on the streets at some point. Hardly worth the effort hunting them all down.”
Luke was listening intently. He suddenly recalled Lena’s confession from the previous evening and half-suspected where Alexander was heading with this.
“We used to send a few of the children up to the Chatterton House. It’s a beautiful place.
The city kids always loved staying there. It was a big adventure for them. None of them had experienced a genuine country house before. They’d spend hours exploring the woods and grounds. It did them good. Or so we thought at the time.”
“These children. Are you telling me that some of them didn’t return?” Luke asked.
“We were told they were runaways. We were told by the authorities to back off. We were told to stop digging around and to let the professionals do their job.”
“Sergeant Drake is in on it,” Albert pitched in. “He’s known for years what’s been going on.”
“The boy you saw last night wasn’t running from my home, Mr McGowan. He’d been trying to escape Chatterton House.”
“Chatterton House? Are you telling me they keep kids against their will up in that house?”
Alexander nodded slowly. “He was trying to reach our home when Drake got involved. Drake fed me some cock and bull story. He told me the boy was wanted for questioning. I didn’t believe him of course. That’s why I went with him. I wanted to at least try to bring the boy back. Drake wouldn’t have any of it. After we’d got him back in the car, Drake told me to back off. He told me the boy would be sent to Birmingham the following day to be interviewed. It was a load of clap trap! He’s at the Chatterton House right now. I would bet my life on it.”
“And their reason for this?” Luke went on.
“Rituals. Satanic rituals, that is. I’d even go as far to suggest human sacrifice.”
“Human sacrifice! Oh, come on. Are you serious?”
“I’m afraid so, Luke. That’s what we’ve been researching all these months. We’ve been piecing everything together, bit by bit, in this tiny room. Isn’t that right, father?”
Albert nodded. He then pushed the open book into the centre of the table and whispered, “It’s all to do with the blood lines, you see.”
“Blood lines?” Luke replied genuinely confused.
“To put it simply, Mr McGowan, the aristocratic families as we know them today are held together by certain traditions. The Chatterton’s have always been a part of those traditions too. They are a very old family, you see. They were here long before our Royal family. It’s been going on for centuries in fact. Not just here in Chatterton, of course. These networks operate on a global scale.”
“What sort of traditions? What networks are we talking about here? You’re not making any sense.”
Once again, Albert shot his son a cautious glance. Taking in a deep breath he said, “What I’m about to explain to you is very real, Luke. It may sound far-fetched, but it’s all true. Every word. Ten years of research has gone into what I’m about to tell you. You must promise to keep it secret. It’s so very important that you do.”
“Go on,” Luke replied, beginning to lose his patience with both men. “This had better be good.”
Albert cleared his throat and tucked himself a little closer to the table. He then said: “They’re all entangled in the same spider’s web, you see, Luke. It’s a web made up of secret sects, Satanism and paedophilia. It’s what binds the elite in society together. It’s what gives them their power. These families go back thousands of years, you see,” Albert finished taking a well-deserved sip from his cup of tea. As he finished speaking, Alexander quickly took up the reigns shifting enthusiastically in his seat.
&nb
sp; “They originated in the Ancient Middle-East. These people founded the Sumerian Empire and the Babylonian Empire right after. Over the centuries, as they travelled up through Europe, they became the forefathers of Ancient Greece and the Roman Dynasties. These same people have become what we know today as the European aristocracy, Luke. Their blood lines have been kept pure and each of these powerful families share the same traits.”
“Traits?”
“That’s right. They have an obsession with human sacrifice, satanic rituals and blood drinking. They need it like we need water. It keeps them sane.”
“It keeps them from shape shifting too,” Albert broke in.
“Shape shifting?” Luke questioned. “What the hell are you on about?”
“Perhaps we’ve taken things a step too far too quickly, father. Luke needs time to digest what he’s been told already,” Alexander continued.
“I think Luke can handle most things,” Albert replied. “Am I right, boy? Can you keep an open mind and listen to what we’ve uncovered?”
“I’ll listen to what you have to say. I’ll make my own mind up after that.”
“That sounds fair enough to me,” Albert finished.
“Are you a religious man, Mr McGowan?”
“I was raised a Catholic. My parents sent me to a Catholic school. I’ve been running from religion ever since. Why do you ask?”
Albert was pointing one of his long and bony fingers at the book’s cover now.
“What do you see?”
“Knights and dragons. What of it?”
“Serpents, Mr McGowan. You see serpents.”
Alexander reached over and pulled the book slowly towards himself.
“Please, bear with us Luke. It’s quite straightforward. Serpent worship is one of the world’s most ancient beliefs. In fact, it’s the world’s oldest creation tale.”
The Devil's Blue Eyes Page 17
