by Jeff Mills
As the day wore on the excitement level grew and, although trying to appear calm and confident, Barguff’s stomach was churning. Throughout the day he had been so busy that he had not noticed that Bird was missing but as the first signs of darkness drew, he noticed his absence. He asked around some of his friends if they had seen Bird but everyone said that they hadn’t seen him at any time that day. Barguff was just starting to get worried when Chipper poked his head out from under the table and told him that the big bird thing had gone to Morgana’s cave to see what was happening. Barguff was relieved to know, not only that Bird was busy being a spy but that they might get some more valuable information when he got back. If he got back.
Chapter 29
The D. I.’s Dilemma
“Excuse me Sir,” Sergeant Cummings said to his inspector, “but we’ve just had a phone call from that missing reporter’s boyfriend, who says that he had tried to phone her on her mobile. Although the call went to voicemail, he feels sure that her phone may still be switched on. If it is, then it may be possible to get the phone company to locate it and possibly find his girlfriend.”
“Oh, um, yes. I’d thought that too,” D I Hyde replied, without looking up from the pile of papers scattered over his desk. “See to it will you Sarge. Oh, and while you’re about it, get that boyfriend to come in. I want to have a chat to him. He may be able to shed some light on what happened, or why a young woman like that might disappear.”
The sergeant disappeared, while the inspector sat back in his chair and chewed the end of his pen. This case was beginning to worry him and he was beginning to fear the worst but at least no body had been found, yet, so that was something.
The phone rang and it was the officer from the front desk.
“Sorry to bother you Sir, but there’s a crowd from the press out here. They’re demanding to know what’s happening and asking if there are any developments in the Redwell case. Many of them are her friends and are very worried.”
“I’ll be right out,” came the weary reply and the inspector lifted himself from his chair and went out to face the press.
Chapter 30
Resurrection
Back at her bench, the young woman busied herself pouring various potions from bottles and mixing herbs and powders into the steaming cauldron. The pages of the large volume at her side were turned back and forth until, after a final flourish, she threw a sort of green egg into the mix. There was a flash and a cloud of smoke…, then silence. The goblins around her had been transfixed watching this new ‘mistress’ and hovered in anticipation of what she was doing but screeched and jumped back at the sudden flash.
Taking a small glass vial, she dipped the container into the mix and raised it up to her eyes. It glowed with an iridescent blue light which seemed to move within the vial. She gazed at it for a good minute and sniffed the opening of the container. With a final reference to the curled up pages by her side she smiled and looked up, oblivious to the multitude of grey and blue bodies, pushing to see what was happening.
Morgana strutted around the cave and for the first time had to duck in some places to avoid banging her head. She liked her new body but it was almost a foot taller than her old one and she realised that she would have to be careful if she was to avoid banging her head on the low roof.
“It’s time I moved,” she thought to herself. “Too many people know about this place now and if I am to continue my work then it’s time to go.”
Coming back to the table, she walked around it until she came to the single, unopened coffin that had been previously dragged from the smaller cave. As it came within reach, she slid her hand gently over the rough-sawn wood, caressing and stroking its surface. She brushed the dust off the lid and ran her index finger over and around the initials, ‘J T’ burnt into the lid. As her hand ran tenderly over the engraving, a little smile came to her lips.
Looking around, she found a small iron bar left over from when the cavern had been carved out by miners searching for coal but long since abandoned by them. With great difficulty, and slipping several times, grazing her knuckles, the lid of the crate was eased up until, with a screech of splitting wood and a cloud of dust, the lid fell to the floor.
It took several minutes before she had the courage to look inside. The first glance made her step back in horror as the gaunt, emaciated face of her sister came into view. The lips were drawn back exposing a hollow, toothless gape. The eyes were closed and sunken into the sockets. The whole head was like a skull with a covering of dirty, brown-spotted parchment and totally lifeless. The young girl looked at her own new body and then back again at the hideous sight contained within the wooden coffin.
Pulling herself to her full height, she eased back up to the box and withdrew the small vial of blue liquid that she had secured in her pocket while she was removing the lid. Carefully removing the stopper, she dripped, a drop at a time, the iridescent liquid, firstly into the mouth and then onto the closed eyes of the body lying there. As the liquid touched the skin it seemed to be absorbed immediately, only to be replaced by another drip, drip, drip. The empty bottle was thrown onto the floor and Morgana stood back, watching the box intently without moving. Five minutes, ten, fifteen, twenty minutes passed and nothing happened.
She was about to pick up the discarded vial to see if she could squeeze another drop out of it and into the gapping mouth, when suddenly there was the faintest flicker of one of the eyelids of the corpse, followed by another, and another. A finger moved, followed by a twitch of a leg under the thick black blanket that covered the whole of the body except for the head. Without warning, the eyes flickered open and a loud rasping sound was heard as the body took in a great lungful of air. Slowly, bit by bit, the skin stretched and the flesh, what little there was, gradually began to fill out. The glazed eyes moved erratically from left to right, up and down, not focusing on anything. Gradually their movements settled and the body looked directly into the eyes of the woman looking intently down at them.
Morgana forced a smile and whispered, “Jane. Jane.” Then a little louder, “Jane, Jane, it’s me. Anne, Anne. Anne Trembles. Your sister.” The eyes moved again and looked at the young face bending over her in disbelief. The lips moved but no sound came forth, only a strained wheezing as the lungs tried to take in air. The young woman placed her hand on the former corpse’s forehead and slowly and quietly explained how she became to look like she did and reassured her sister that, as soon as she was strong and had recovered enough, then they would find a new body for her as a matter of priority. The skin around the body’s mouth creased and a hint of a smile formed.
“Fetch me some water!” she bellowed to no-one in particular, without taking her eyes off her sister. Minutes later two goblins struggled up to her carrying a small jar of water. Tenderly she dripped the water into the still-gaping mouth.
“More!” she screamed and thrust the jar back at the two, who were leaning over her shoulder trying to see what was in the box. The force with which Morgana threw her arm back sent one of them reeling backwards into the wall, almost knocking him out. Quickly recovering, the two disappeared back into the gloom to fetch more water.
For several hours the two sisters became reacquainted, with the younger-looking one explaining, as best she could, everything that had occurred since the three of them had gone to the gallows. However, the one thing that she could not explain, which puzzled her and gave her great concern herself, was how they had each survived being hanged and how they had been preserved for so long, yet still able to come back to life. Who or what had put them in the wooden coffins and hidden them for centuries?
It was late in the evening by the time that Morgana had finished her explanation but at last and with great effort, she helped her sister to sit up and ease herself from her wooden tomb. She apologised to her that she might have to leave her alone for a while and explained her plan to confront and kill the gnomes and,
if possible, that interfering bird and his human friends that had caused her so much trouble and extra work.
She reminded the buzzing grey crowd what Fulmer, her spy, had told her and that the gnomes would be hiding in the cellar of the main building of the Gnome Reserve. They were ordered to surround the house, tie the doors of the main house shut so that the owner could not come out and help her friends and then they could go into the cellar and slaughter each of those stupid creatures. She added that when they had finished they could take anything that they wanted and return to their homes in Cornwall. The goblins cheered and chatted excitedly to each other about the treasure that they were convinced the gnomes had hidden away, and how they were going to be so rich that everybody in the other tribes would have to obey them.
“Go my friends!” she shouted and a grey and blue stream of bodies flew down the tunnels and out into the darkness of the night.
* * *
Bird pressed himself against the wall of the cave, wondering how much longer he could stay invisible as he watched them go.
“So far so good,” he thought to himself but wondered why Morgana had not gone with them. This was certainly not what he had planned and was very unexpected. He thought that it was more important to find what the witch was doing than to be at the Reserve; after all, Barguff had everything under control, he hoped.
Chapter 31
Deadly Inheritance
The day had finally arrived. The representative from Harding and Jasper had phoned earlier that morning to confirm that it was still convenient for him to call. Mr Bennett had agreed that he would be in and arranged a meeting at 12.30pm. Julia Bennett was bustling around making sure the whole house looked tidy. Both Hugo and Stephanie were ordered to stay in their rooms so that they did not risk spreading the infection, though Hugo knew that really his mum just wanted them both out of the way.
At precisely 12.30 they heard a car draw up and its door slam, rapidly followed by a ring on the doorbell. Stephanie came into Hugo’s room, which was unheard of, and after a few comments on the mess, sat with her brother with the bedroom door wide open, hoping desperately to hear what was going on.
“Thank you for agreeing to see me,” started John Blackmore, as he introduced himself. “I have been instructed by Messrs Harding and Jasper to deal and negotiate, on their behalf, a substantial legacy.”
Hugo and his sister heard that bit clearly and looked at each other, both smiling broadly.
“To which, according to our research, you may be entitled, but first we need to confirm that you are the genuine beneficiary and so I will ask you a few questions and get you to sign some papers. Then, and only then, will I be at liberty to disclose the legacy in detail.”
Hugo and Stephanie moved closer to the door to try as hard as they could to hear what was being said, but in the meantime, Mrs Bennett had gone into the kitchen to make their guest a cup of tea and had partly shut the lounge door, so that the only noise the two could hear was a mumbling.
It was an hour and a half later that they heard the door open, final pleasantries said, the front door slam, and a car drive off.
Almost falling down the stairs in their haste to find out what they were inheriting, the two children burst through the lounge door to find their parents sitting in stunned silence.
“Well! Well! What did he say?” they screamed in unison.
It took several minutes, during which time both parents looked at each other without speaking, before Mr Bennett answered in a somewhat croaky voice,
“We’ve been left five million pounds!”
“Five million!” screamed the two children in astonishment.
“Which, after fees, deductions and tax we should end up with about four,” their father said quite unemotionally and then, suddenly, shouted at the top of his voice.
“Four Million Pounds!”
He jumped up and started to sing, ‘If I were a rich man.’ from the film Fiddler on the Roof, to which his wife joined in, both of them grinning from ear to ear. The children sat on the carpet and excitedly asked their father to tell them everything about it.
“Well,” he began, “you know that man who was killed by the JCB; you know the one we went to see him dig the first turf to rebuild that old judge’s house in town. It turns out that he was a bit of an eccentric and when he died he had not made a will. Unfortunately for him but fortunate for us, he had no direct next of kin. Harding and Jasper are what are commonly known as heir hunters. They specialise in investigating cases like this where there are no direct descendants and finding those most closely related. In exchange for a percentage of the inheritance they investigate and, where they are able, contact each of the possible beneficiaries and allocate to each of them the value of the estate. If they don’t, then every bit of it goes to the tax man.”
Hugo stopped smiling and seriously asked, “Does this mean that you were related to this man who was killed by the JCB?”
“Yes. It seems that I am the end of the line as regards relatives of his. No, sorry. I made a mistake. Since you are my son, you are the end of the line, as far as males are concerned!”
He pointed to Hugo and laughed. Hugo suddenly turned white and ran out of the room and up to his bedroom. His parents looked at each other in stunned silence.
This was not the reaction which they had expected and with a puzzled expression, Mr Bennett followed Hugo upstairs to find out what was wrong.
Hugo’s father found him face down on his bed sobbing and initially refusing to turn over to face him, however, after several minutes of coaxing he turned over and sat up to face his father.
Over the next few minutes he poured out the whole story of finding the stone, Bird, the cave, Kadavera, the tooth fairy, gnomes, and most importantly the story of the three witches and the curse they had invoked to seek retribution on everyone that had any connection to their and their mothers’ murderers. At the end of it he almost screamed,
“Don’t you realise Dad, that, as the last of the line descended from the judge, we’re next on the list to be killed!”
The whole story seemed so unreal and the result of the over-imagination of a young boy. It was obvious to Hugo that his father did not believe a word that he had said and, although his father made consolatory noises, he knew that he would have to give some form of proof.
At first he thought about showing him the amulet but then remembered that he had lent it to Bird. Eventually, after a great deal of soul searching, he decided that there was only one way to prove everything that he had said was true and called out, “Bird, Bird, Bird.”
Hugo turned to face the wall, waiting for it to shimmer and for Bird to appear but the wall stayed solid. Again he called, “Bird, Bird, Bird.” Nothing. Hugo could not believe it. Where was his friend when he needed him most? He shouted at the top of his voice, “BIRD, BIRD, BIRD!” He had shouted so loudly that both his mother and Stephanie came up to see what was wrong. They found Hugo face down on his bed crying violently and his father desperately leaning over trying to calm him down, without success.
While Stephanie stayed in his room, genuinely concerned over her brother and helpless to console him, his father took his mother onto the landing outside the room and told her the tale which their son had related to him. He also explained about the fear that his son had about the curse the witches had cast on each of the descendants of the judge, which meant him and Hugo.
Suddenly a scream came from Stephanie from inside Hugo’s room.
“Mum! Dad! Come quick! Come quick!”
The parents glanced at each other and rushed into the room. In front of them was Hugo, with tears still streaming down his face but now smiling and Stephanie, white-faced, except for the bright red spots that dotted her face, each one covered by a pinky-white cream used to stop them itching. She was pointing at something on the bedside cabinet and mouthing something, but no words came
out.
At first, the parents could see nothing, but a slight movement caught their attention. There, perched on top of the box of the model of the Millennium Falcon that Hugo had started, was a very small figure, with wings that seemed almost transparent. They stood transfixed, unable to believe what stood before them. Before they had a chance to say anything, Hugo sprang from the bed and pointing to the figure, said confidently,
