The tall terracotta pot was covered in green moss, but the long sword-like leaf shards of the yucca plant hinted of age. This plant was old.
Mentally and respectfully asking for permission first, I sank my silver veins into the green moss covered earth. Again, I flashed images of anything hidden behind stone.
Old and wise one, have you seen this? I asked.
A room downstairs flashed stacked with cardboard boxes, suitcases, an old lampshade, a bicycle.
Nothing else? I asked.
Nothing.
The images continued to flicker across my eyes. But the patch of daisies near the apple tree had been planted last spring. A wooden item was underneath but not under stone. The clover shoots were irritated as they had to push their way around the thick wooden base.
How deep? I asked.
The low wall around the cottage flickered.
Around half a metre? I checked.
Yes. Please remove the square. We don’t like its touch, it hums, and prevents our flowers from sleeping, and they wilt prematurely. The noise, the hum, hurts the roots.
Thanking the yucca again, I promised a garden of sleep for them all once I had retrieved the box.
This box was under the earth, but the one I was searching for was behind stone. Were they the same? Had someone got their wires crossed somehow or had I misunderstood? I would investigate anyway, it was still early. The birds were chirping around the garden in the early dawn sun which was a sure sign that no one else was around.
Moving to the centre of the lawn, I stood and closed my eyes. Extending my gift to the house I sought Daisy’s essence. She was still upstairs, moving between two rooms. Collecting laundry, maybe?
I blinked my eyes open in the morning sunshine, now much brighter. The lofty apple tree stood half way along the wall, it hadn’t borne fruit of late, the buds were brown and rotten on the stems, and then I recognised the sick daisies below. The white petals were few on each flower head, bending back against the sunrays. The stems were marked with blight and aphids, and the bigger leaves underneath had been chewed by snails and grown badly gnarled. This patch was sick, and the earth looked under-nourished, empty of any nutrients.
Kneeling close to the flower patch, palms downs, I leaned over the area, slowly moving each hand in circles to feel for an abnormal source underground. As I moved my left hand closer I felt a vibration, faint but resilient, which pricked the underside of my skin like a sting. Waving the small area further, ignoring the uncomfortable tingling, I could feel a clear square against the solid ground elsewhere.
I pulled at the earth, using only my hands, digging it up, piling it around the edge in heaps. The further I dug down the more distinctive the thrum of vibrations. Halfway down the hole the soil colour had distinctly altered. It was no longer the usual ochre colour; the dull brown seams threading their way through the layers could be clearly seen.
It was while I rubbed some soil from under my nails that I stopped mid motion. I felt a stranger moving close by and heard a noise behind me. The soft footfalls were getting closer. It wasn’t Daisy. Her steps would have been lighter.
The grass crackled under another heavy weight as the slow steps got closer. I stopped my movement completely and remained still, ready, waiting.
Two metres away, then one metre.
Without hesitation, I leapt back; my hand went to the throat of the figure. With one foot quickly kicking the ankles aside, I felled him effortlessly in a second. My hand remained around the throat as I stared down at my opponent.
And I stared into the face of the most beautiful boy I had ever seen.
It wasn’t the blonde short hair that tapered across his forehead into his eyes, and it wasn’t his suntanned clear and immaculate skin which emphasised his cheekbones and jaw. Or even his full red lips that puckered and grimaced slightly under my unforgiving grasp. In fact it wasn’t any of those things, but it was all of those things. He was just dazzlingly beautiful.
His blue eyes edged with dark brown lashes glistened as they stared at me in amazement and wonder. My heart plunged deep into my stomach, and I felt dimly light-headed, my hands were a little shaky too but I held on.
“Hi Rose,” he croaked, his strong muscular throat twitched under my grip.
“Huh?”
To my horror, he wasn’t the only one creeping around; Daisy had witnessed the whole thing. She leaned out from an upstairs window with an amused grin. I had been concentrating so hard on my attack that I had forgotten to check on her whereabouts again.
“Ah, I see you two have met!” She was dressed to go out, a wax jacket slung over one arm while the other held the side swing window handle.
“Who is he, Daisy, and why was he creeping up on me?” I said abhorrently without taking my eyes off the target.
“Morgan meet Rose, Rose meet Morgan. You can let him go now, Rose,” she ordered.
In disgust I released him with a slight shove, and sat on the grass while Morgan massaged his throat and neck, brushing away soil crumbs in the process.
“I wasn’t creeping,” he answered with a glare.
My breath caught for a moment as I glared back, unable to let go of his thrilling expressive eyes.
“Well, I’ll leave you two to get to know each other,” Daisy laughed again. “And Rose, clear up that mess you’ve made, I’ll be back by eleven o’clock to meet your policeman.”
Looking up at her I saw her discerning expression as she eyed the hole. So much for being secretive, they had both caught me in the act.
“Okay, sorry Daisy,” I muttered, and then shouted “Oh, remember the paramedic too!”
“Her too. I’ll see you both later, please try to get along,” she answered. The window closed as she disappeared out of sight.
Neither Morgan nor I acknowledged her leaving as we continued to glare at each other.
“You were creeping!” I yelled
“Hey, I saw you sneaking out of my house! I wanted to see what you were burying.”
“Next time, mind your own business,” I retorted.
“So, what were you doing?”
“Nothing!”
He stood, offering me a hand. I ignored it and got up.
“Were you burying something or digging it up?” he said casually as he peered down into the opening.
“I said, mind your own business,” I huffed. “You were supposed to be back ages ago.”
That seemed to rattle him. “Oh, so I should apologise for not conforming to your plans? Did I disrupt your stay with my absence?” he yelled.
“Why are you being so annoying?”
“I don’t know. It might be something to do with you attacking me.”
“You’re lucky I didn’t just punch you in the solar plexus.” I said gritting my teeth. “Then you’d really be sorry.”
He grinned and rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe. So, you’re not going to tell me what you were doing in my house or what you’ve been doing here.”
“Correct. It’s none of—”
“—None of my business. Yes, you’ve said that already.”
He smiled again and for the first time I looked at him closely. His blue sweater was pulled tightly over his muscular frame emphasizing his strong stomach and agile thick arms. His shoulders were relaxed now, pushing his strong chest towards me. His jeans showed off his narrow waist and long solid legs. His gorgeous blonde hair glistened with sunbeams. I was mesmerised.
There was no doubt that he was stronger than me but I had floored him so easily.
“You’ll have to show me how you did that, by the way,” he grinned. “That was impressive!”
I laughed out loud, suddenly ashamed of my actions. I nervously pulled a finger through my pony tail hair and tugged at imaginary knots.
“It was just basic self defence.”
“Sure, it was. I could have taken you if you hadn’t caught me off guard. I thought you’d just stand up and say Hi, not grab my throat.”
; His tone was teasing but enthralling also, and I smiled as I relaxed.
“I have to clear this up,” I motioned to the hole in the garden bed. I waited for him to leave but he stayed put. “You can go now.”
“No. I want to know,” his persistently stubborn chin stuck out as he folded his arms across his chest.
“Fine,” I growled. “But don’t get in my way.”
I knelt again and continued digging with my fingers.
“Do you want a shovel,” Morgan said sarcastically.
I groaned. “No, just shut up.”
A few more centimetres down my nails scratched the surface of something hard. My fingertips tingled more as I scraped the dirt and soil away and cleared the edge around the box. I pushed further down each side to feel its depth wedging my fingers under the bottom. Carefully I pulled it out and laid it on the grass.
Morgan knelt down to scrutinize the dark wooden casing. “How did you know it was down there?”
I gave him a glare.
“Right, none of my business. Here, let me take it to the cottage and clean it up. It looks like it’s been down there for a while.” He lifted the box as if it weighed no more than a feather and walked to the cottage door.
I turned back and felt again into the hole in case I’d left anything but it was clear and normal again. I quickly pushed the soil back down until the soil surface was almost level, except for a small divot that I couldn’t fill. I stood and brushed my hands over the garden removing the majority of the dirt.
Inside the cottage Morgan had wiped the box clean with a wet towel and placed it on the small table in front of the sofa. He was eyeing it over as I walked in.
“So, what do you think? Roman? Viking? Pagan? Or something else?” he said.
“I think something else.”
“Yeah, me too. These markings are unusual, foreign. The question is, was it Daisy that buried it in the garden? If it was, why there? There are a hundred places she could have stashed it in the house.”
“I have no idea. About any of it,” I sat next to him and we both continued to marvel at the box. It was dark wood but highly polished with markings engraved around the edges of every side. The top of the lid remained plain, clean of engravings or etchings.
“So, are you going to open it?”
I thought for a second. “No.”
“No? You find this stunningly beautiful box and you’re not even going to see what’s inside?” he raised one eyebrow in surprise.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s none of your business. I don’t even know you, so stop questioning me,” I retorted with impatience.
“You won’t open the box because you don’t know me? Or is it that you’re scared of what’s inside?”
“I’m not ready for whatever’s inside.”
“It could be just old jewellery or a pen and ink set. It could even be King Alfred’s missing treasure.”
“What missing treasure?” My history was good but I had no idea what he meant.
“Alfred had a big battle nearby. Rumour has it that on the day before he fought, he buried or hid his most beloved items secretly to prevent the risk of pillaging should he lose.”
“That’s not what’s in there.”
He stood and leaned over the box at me. “How will you know if you don’t open it?”
I paused, remembering Daisy’s words on our first night out.
“Daisy said I could trust you.”
“Yes, you can,” he said with a smirk.
“With my life?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“So, if I show you something, do you promise to keep it a secret even from Daisy?”
He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Okay.”
I breathed out with full lungs and stood in front of the box. I took one more look at Morgan; his attention was fixed on me.
With my right hand I wiped it slowly over the lid barely touching it. As soon as my hand met the centre point a silvery light flashed brightly into the room for a second before dying out, leaving a silver mark, like a symbol, in core centre of the box.
“Whoa,” Morgan staggered back a few feet, before gasping quickly.
“That’s why I don’t want to open it,” and I gazed at him hoping he would understand my meaning. “I don’t know what’s inside but it could be something I don’t want to see.”
“You mean like Pandora. Once you open it, it’ll change everything.”
“Exactly.”
We were quiet again for a few moments, and our thoughts were only disturbed when his phone rang. He answered it quickly.
“Yes, who is it? Hannah! How are you?” Silence. “Yes, she’s here with me!”
He handed me the phone and I was so relieved to hear Hannah’s voice.
“Hey you!”
“Hey you!” I replied trying to gather some composure.
“What you up to today? Anything?”
Morgan was looking at me oddly. “Not much, why?”
“A friend of ours needs some help with something, I wondered if you and Morgan could come over?”
“Um, I can, I don’t know what he’s doing. Let me ask him.”
I put the phone to my chest to blank out any noise, and kept my voice to a whisper.
“Firstly, can you hide this box here?” He acknowledged with a nod. “Secondly, Hannah wants us to help a friend out. Are you free today?”
“Let me speak to her,” he said and motioned for the phone. “Hannah, what’s happened?” Silence. “Oh my god, tell him we’ll be there as soon as we can. Yes, we’ll meet at his house. Bye.”
Something awful had transpired and Morgan was suddenly agitated in his movements. Having placed the box in a small store cupboard under some old blankets, he started pacing around the small floor space.
“What is it? What’s happened?”
He stopped suddenly.
“You’ve heard about the disappearances? Henry Cole, Percy Dunbar, Charlotte Mandel and Regina Stoy.”
“I know something of the first two. I haven’t heard of the others.”
“Well, add our friend Jez’s dad to it.”
“Jez?”
“Short for Jeremy.”
“When did he go missing?”
“Three days ago,” he walked to the window sill and leaned his hands on it, staring out into the garden. “Damn it! I should have been here.”
I jumped as he pounded the windowsill with both fists in an infuriated outburst.
“You weren’t to know. What could you have done? Nothing,” I walked to him and put my hand on his shoulder. “So, what’s our plan? Wait for the police?”
“No, the police probably won’t find anything. Luckily, Jez’s dad horded information just like a conspiracy theorist. He was sure that the Council were up to something they shouldn’t have been. We should find something in his files. That’s why Hannah needs our help.”
“Okay, then let’s go!” I said as I opened the door.
Morgan hadn’t moved from the window, he seemed reluctant to follow.
“Rose, are you sure you want to get involved? Even after last night?” he looked me in the eyes and shrugged one shoulder down. “Yes, I know about what happened.”
I was slowly realising that although this was a small town, nothing was sacred and everything got noticed. Morgan hadn’t had time to speak to Daisy, I was sure, so someone else must have furnished him with the facts, such as they were. But I trusted Morgan, even though I’d only just met him, and I think he knew it.
I scowled. “You’re well informed. I want to be involved, especially after last night. You never know, I might find some answers to my own questions while we’re at it.”
He smiled. “Okay, then let’s get those questions answered. Exactly which ones are they?”
“None of your business,” I snickered a barb at him; he laughed as we walked back towards the house.
- Chapter Six -
; “So where does Jez live?” I said as we drove along the lane from Daisy’s. Morgan’s black Audi turned through the corners and smoothly tackled the badly tarmacked lane with ease.
“Bishopstrow. It’s on the Salisbury road. It won’t take long.” Morgan said. He stopped at the end junction and waited for two cars to pass by before fluidly pulling out.
Soon we passed through the main town and turned left, then right onto the small road, with identical semi detached houses either side. Morgan brought the car to a purring halt as I glimpsed a very tidy looking house with small garden and lawn in the front.
I got out, slamming the door closed and waited for him. As Morgan opened the small garden gate the front door opened with Hannah standing in the doorway. She stepped out of the way as someone else came forward. A tall black haired boy with gelled spiky hair greeted us with a wide grin.
“Hey Morgan,” he said with a tentative smile.
“Hey mate,” Morgan said back. They shook hands and shared a short manly hug. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m okay, the police came round earlier. No more news,” Jez folded his arms and stared at me. A big grin told me he was glad to see me.
“Jez, meet Rose,” Hannah said, introducing us.
“Hi Rose, nice to see you finally,” he put his hand forward and I shook it. Then Hannah stood by my side and draped an arm around my shoulder.
“You okay after last night?” she said, with a worried voice
“Yeah. Less said about that the better,” I quipped back. Morgan and Jez both laughed, I deduced from Jez and Hannah’s fleeting looks that Jez had heard most of the story from Hannah.
Jez piped up. “Come in, I’m upstairs,” and led us into the house.
While the others started talking in the hallway I turned my back and used my gift. There was no one else home. If I was going to ask and answer questions I wanted to know exactly who else was within earshot.
It was small inside but comfortable. Off the hallway I could see into the lounge and kitchen. The walls were mostly lilac in colour with a beige carpet. The decor was a little too spartan though, as though the house had not been privy to a woman’s touch in a long time. The shelves were bereft of ornaments and sides were devoid of family photographs. The television remote controls were halfway down the arm of the settee. It was definitely just Jez and his dad usually living here.
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