by James Erith
Asgard hadn’t seen this. ‘It may not be enough if you are invisible. Can you wear a cloak?’
‘I can – but not for long – an hour at a time.’ The ghost scratched his non-existent chin. ‘There is a long, but light, overcoat which I use to spook my subjects with. I’ll see if I can find it.’
Asgard called after him. ‘Hurry, Master. Make sure it is bland in feature so it will fit in with human tastes on Earth. Bring anything else that you may require.’
Cain drifted away, his invisible presence marked only by the swaying movement of dust and papers lying on the floor. Shortly he returned wearing a trilby hat, a scarf and a long overcoat.
Asgard realised Cain had acquired a sixth sense of knowing where and what everyday objects were.
Cain sensed his thoughts. ‘I have learnt to find things by understanding the energy within objects,’ he said. ‘It is amazing what you can see if you can’t actually see, and what you can hear if you can’t actually hear.’
Asgard stretched out a leg so it was touching Cain. ‘Hold on to my leg – you will feel its energy.’
Cain held out an arm. ‘I will pull you towards me. On my word, crouch down and dive horizontally, as though into water. Do this as fast as you can – understand?’
Cain felt a tingle fizzing through his ghostly frame. ‘I feel you, it is powerful.’
‘Good,’ Asgard said. ‘Now lower yourself and I will open myself up.’
Cain did as he was asked.
Asgard began the countdown. ‘One, two, THREE!’
Cain thrust himself forward, like a diver off a high board. A mild burning sensation coursed through him and, following that, he found himself on a soft floor.
CAIN WAS ASTONISHED. What an extraordinary method of travel. He picked himself up and began to dust off his coat. His face beamed with excitement.
‘You do not have much time,’ Asgard said as he turned invisible. ‘You must do the rest alone.’
‘Where will I find the boy?’
‘Make your way up the stairs. The heirs sleep at the top of the house in a room in the shape of a cross. Archie, the boy, is on the left side. I must go – other dreamspinners may be around. Return to the fireplace at the bottom of the house when you are done. Hide in the chimney. I will be back before dawn breaks, before the old man stirs.’
Cain stood up and prepared to go.
‘Remember,’ Asgard called after him. ‘Make an ally of the boy. Use his fear of the murder of the Ancient Woman. Arrange a place and time to meet him before the storm breaks. Go in haste, Master.’
FOURTEEN
ARCHIE MEETS CAIN
Archie woke, his sleep disturbed. He lay in bed, wide awake, as segments of his dreams flashed back to him like flickers in an old movie. His heart raced as though he’d been running hard. He took a few deep breaths and stared at the ceiling, trying to piece the events together in his mind. Then he closed his eyes. The images of the murder of an incredibly old and haggard woman came to him vividly in a sudden burst. Why was it always so graphic, so shocking? And then he’d experienced a feeling of drowning, of gasping for air, of swimming for his life. His heart pumped furiously, sending blood that seemed to flow like hot lava, coursing through his veins.
He exhaled loudly, opened his eyes and looked out into the blackness of their room. Was there someone at the foot of his bed?
‘Daisy? What d’ you want?’ he slurred.
A windy chuckle came back at him. It was loud enough so that he knew instantly that it wasn’t either of his sisters. Archie shuffled into a sitting position, yawned, stretched his arms out and searched the room. Before long, he could make out a figure, a human figure, masked by a long coat and a trilby hat.
Archie started to slip under his duvet, but then, for some strange reason he stopped, and called out, ‘Who is it?’ in a weak voice.
‘Ah! Hello. I didn’t see you there!’ the voice said huskily.
Shivers raced up Archie’s back.
‘Now, are you Archie or one of the girls?’
Archie was baffled by this strange question. He couldn’t think what to say so remained silent as his eyes gradually adjusted to the light.
‘What can I ... er ... help you with, mister?’ Archie stammered at length. He could make out a long coat and a hat. Was it an intruder? Were they being robbed?
‘Ah! Forgive me for waking you,’ said the voice, ‘but I have something very important to share with you.’ His delivery was earnest and crisp.
With his head bowed, the man approached. As he neared, he raised his head.
Archie gasped and felt sick. Underneath his hat, there was nothing there. Nothing. It was a ghost; he was having a seriously bad night. Archie wondered if it was dangerous.
‘Now Archie, I need to speak with you about a rather urgent matter. The thing is, I need a favour.’
Archie reeled. ‘Is this another weird dream?’ he blurted, his brain trying to get a grip on what he was experiencing.
‘I tell you what,’ the ghost said, moving closer, ‘is this one of your dreams?’ And in a flash, the ghost whipped out a tiny dagger the size of a penknife encrusted with red jewels.
Archie froze as the knife floated through the air towards him. Moments later he felt a nick just under the left side of his chin and yelped. He put his hand up and worked the smooth velvety texture between his forefinger and thumb before it turned sticky.
He had been cut – violated – by a ghost! Archie’s head thumped. He sidled back down his bed. It was definitely dangerous.
The ghost moved closer, as though inspecting the damage. ‘Goodness me, a little human blood – I haven’t seen any of that for years,’ he said coldly. ‘You do believe I exist, don’t you?’
Archie’s whole body was rattling. He found that he could see straight through him. He nodded, his eyes bulging.
‘Good. Let’s be quite clear about that straight away,’ the ghost said moving a little further from the bed. ‘You might be aware that you are on the threshold of something rather extraordinary. There are mortal challenges you must face. I am sure you know of them through the images that have been given to you.’
Archie nodded. ‘The nutty dreams?’ he stuttered.
‘Precisely,’ said the ghost, chuckling. ‘Nutty dreams.’
Archie shivered. ‘But I don’t understand them.’
The ghost sucked in a mouthful of air. ‘You’ve heard about the Garden of Eden?’
Archie’s brain fizzed. If it wasn’t Solomon banging on about the Garden of Eden, it was a deranged ghost. I mean, the place didn’t even exist, did it? OK, so it might have done six thousand years ago! Why was this ghost so interested in the Garden of Eden?
Archie kept as still and as quiet as he could, hoping like mad that the ghost would say his piece, not mutilate him further, and go away.
The ghost stared at Archie for a few moments as if trying to gauge his knowledge of the subject. ‘Well, Eden’s where life began, you must know this. But more recently it’s been, how should I put it, on ... standby. The thing is,’ the ghost explained, ‘there’s a slim chance it may operate again, which would mean terrible things must happen to my mother.’ The ghost paused as though taking stock. ‘Everything clear so far?’
Archie couldn’t think, let alone figure out what the ghost was talking about, but he nodded.
‘Good. Now this forthcoming event is known as the Prophecy of Eden and it involves you, my boy. And I would like to help.’
The ghost leant in – almost earnestly – Archie thought, as if trying to gauge his reaction.
‘In return, you can help me. You know, a tit-for-tat arrangement.’
Archie tried to remember to breathe. His eyes were straining to remain in their sockets. He blinked several times over and over, trying very hard to understand what was going on. It was madness; how on earth could this ghost know about his dreams which were still rattling around in his mind?
Archie sensed that the ghost was smi
ling thinly at him. Then it chuckled like an old motor. ‘If the time comes, I will need you to take good care of the Ancient Woman – see that no harm comes to her.’ His voice trailed off as he searched Archie’s face. ‘You do know about the Ancient Woman?’
Archie looked a little confused.
‘Well, you see,’ the ghost continued, ‘she’s my mother and she’s a sad old woman hanging on to life. But she’ll never see it again because she’s blind, like me.’ The ghost paused solemnly as if remembering her. ‘To cut a long story short, Archie, she took the noble but worthless step of sacrificing herself in order to keep a spark alive.’
‘A spark?’ Archie quizzed, barely able to squeeze the words out. ‘A spark of what?’
‘A spark of life, I suppose.’
Archie thought he’d better play along and said weakly, ‘And if you save your mother, will it mean you stop being a ghost?’
The ghost was thankful Archie couldn’t see his face as he was barely able to control himself. What a naive thing to say, the boy didn’t have a clue. ‘Of course not,’ he sobbed trying to hide the laughter in his voice. ‘My body is gone, but my spirit is forever.’
‘But it will mean I’ll stop having dreams about ... about killing her.’
‘If you help me, then I promise that is exactly what will happen.’
Archie was confused. ‘What do I have to do?’
‘In due course, you must protect her, no matter what,’ the ghost said quietly. ‘There are some that would want her dead. These people may think they are right to wish so, but rest assured they are mistaken. You must protect her from harm – do you understand? I’m asking so very little.’
Archie breathed out a sigh of relief. In the event that this entire conversation hadn’t taken place in an unknown part of his brain and in lieu of his appalling dreams, looking after this Ancient Woman had to be the right thing to do. I mean, who would want to kill an old woman? Maybe the ghost was on their side, even if it was a bit knife-happy. Perhaps ghosts were like that.
Archie nodded, hesitatingly, but it was a nod.
‘Very good,’ said the ghost, whose gaze seemed to stare at Archie for rather too long.
Cain hovered into the middle of the room. The boy – this Heir of Eden – has no idea what is going to happen, he thought. His dreams are just images and he has found no meaning in them. Did people of Earth not understand dreams anymore? Asgard was right – these children would never survive the storm, let alone complete the other tasks of the Prophecy.
Now to put into place Asgard’s plan. He rubbed his hands. It made perfect sense: if he could lure this boy into him – as part of him – he might be partially restored and utilise the boy’s power. And, let’s face it, he thought, it was a great deal for the boy, it would save his life. It was too good an opportunity.
Cain floated back to Archie’s bedside. ‘There is another way,’ he began.
Archie didn’t move a muscle.
‘I want you to consider joining me – physically – as my flesh and blood.’
Archie looked tired and confused. He yawned. ‘Join you?’
‘Not right now, of course, I’d like you to think about it. But joining me will save your life.’
Archie stretched his arms out wide – he had no idea what the ghost was gabbling on about. Was it a deal of some sort? ‘Sure,’ he said, wearily. ‘Whatever.’
‘Good-good, I’m thrilled ... delighted,’ Cain said, as he felt the weight of his coat. ‘I am sorry about the knife,’ he continued. ‘I don’t have time to explain things in great depth, so occasionally it pays to use ... other means.’
‘But, Mr ... sir,’ Archie said summoning his nerve, ‘if I did this thing, er, what’s in it for me?’
‘What else, for you, Archie? Ah yes!’ the ghost was thinking on his feet. ‘What’s in it for you? Of course, how silly of me!’
The ghost drew himself up as best he could and faced Archie. ‘I hold the secrets of ages past, Archie. I will offer you strength and courage, young man, so you are feared and respected. You will have the strength of a horse and the courage of a lion. I will give you my word that these rewards are genuine. All you have to do is meet me tomorrow morning – somewhere safe, where I can be with you alone. Then I will show you more and when you know the facts you will choose to join me.’
The ghost made this sound so easy – so obvious. But his voice turned darker. ‘There is a terrible time coming, Archie, but I alone offer you salvation.’
Archie hesitated. By now he was absolutely desperate to get some sleep. In any case, he thought, like his dreams, he’d never remember it in the morning. He nodded again. ‘Yeah, sure, OK.’
‘Excellent! Then you will meet with me in no more than nine hours and no less than eight,’ the ghost demanded. ‘Think of a place where no one will see us.’
Archie tried to think. ‘Er. There’s a back alleyway above the bank of the football field near the school,’ he yawned. ‘You’ll know you’ve found it when you see two houses leaning in on each other. If you go up there it’s normally pretty quiet.’
‘Very good,’ the ghost gushed. ‘Make sure you wear a long overcoat like mine and a scarf. Do you have one?’
Archie didn’t, but he said he did. He was now quite fed up and reckoned the best way of getting rid of the ghost was to agree with everything.
‘And do you like sweets, Archie?’
‘Yeah, a bit,’ Archie replied. What a curious question from a ghost. ‘Old Man Wood’s the sucker for sugary things. He’s always dipping his fingers in the sugar bowl and getting told off by Mrs Pye.’
The ghost, invisible though it was, seemed to flinch. ‘Is that so? Yes, I had forgotten.’
Archie felt a little stupid.
A groan from the bed nearby signalled that Daisy was stirring.
‘We meet in a few hours in the alleyway,’ the ghost whispered as it drifted slowly to the door, struggling to keep the coat on top of him. ‘Now remember, tonight’s chat, young man, is our very own secret. Any tongue-wagging and the deal is off.’
Archie caught a glimpse of the knife.
As the ghost reached the door he was almost bent double. ‘See you tomorrow, Archie. Be in no doubt that your life will change forever a few hours from now – the strength of a horse and the courage of a lion – you will never regret it. Now not a word to anyone, including the old man.’
Archie nodded. ‘What ... what’s your name?’ he asked.
‘Ah yes. I forget – the finer, important details.’ His invisible eye sockets bore into Archie who felt as though his heart was briefly being sucked out of him. ‘I am the ghost of Cain, son of Adam and Eve, brother of Abel. Maybe you’ve heard of me, maybe you haven’t. Who knows what is taught these days.’ Cain stopped as if an idea had popped into his head. ‘You have a cup of water?’
Archie told him there was one on the table just behind him.
Cain hovered towards the table and then made as if to feel for it. When he found it, he dropped something in which fizzed a little. ‘You will need this. Drink and it will give you great strength. Until tomorrow, Archie.’
And with those words, Cain slipped quietly out of the door.
ARCHIE FELL BACK on his pillows, rubbed his eyes and wiped the beads of sweat off his face. What was that all about? What a dreadful, dreadful night; nightmare after nightmare.
In the back of his mind he wondered if this ghost was the Cain as in ‘Cain and Abel’ in the Bible story. Wasn’t he the son of Adam and Eve? Crikey. Properly bonkers. Didn’t Cain kill Abel or something and get turned away? He’d have to look it up. Archie rubbed his eyes – he was so tired. It was almost impossible to know what was real and what wasn’t. Anyway, the one thing he was absolutely sure of was that he wasn’t going to meet the ghost – whatever strength or courage power he’d offered him. No way.
He studied the clock. Three thirty-five. He did a quick calculation. Eight hours from now and it’d be bang in the middle of the f
ootball match. Nine hours and the game would just be finishing. He chuckled – a classic timetable clash. Well, at least the problem was sorted; there was no way he was missing the game and certainly not for a deranged ghost.
He smiled, relieved by his fortunate scheduling, closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.
GAIA THE DREAMSPINNER had a feeling – a vibration – that Archie was awake. She arrived in the room to find the ghost talking with Archie. From the corner, she listened in.
She was astonished to learn a couple of things. Firstly, that it was Cain, the Master of Havilah himself, forever banned from leaving Havilah, who had somehow found his way to the Heirs of Eden’s bedroom only hours after the last part of the Tripodean Dream had been given. This was beyond comprehension.
Secondly, Cain knew about the children’s dreams and was aware of the Gifts of Eden. Thirdly, Archie had no idea about his own gifts – but Cain knew enough to exploit him.
It was astonishing. Cain was clever and manipulative, but how was it possible?
Gaia thought it through, reaching the same conclusion again and again. One of the dreamspinners must have communicated with Cain. It was the only way. But dreamspinners were honour-bound to be neutral in all things. They did not meddle; this was engrained into their very fabric.
There were only four of them who had seen the dream and gifts given: Genesis, Asgard, Janana and herself. The most senior dreamspinners.
Genesis? Was she bitter about coming to light in front of the boy? No, it didn’t add up. What about Asgard? He was the one who objected to giving the Gifts of Eden to children, but he was also the most passionate dreamspinner about dreams. Or Janana, the quiet one. Yes, Gaia thought, maybe it was her.
And then another thought whistled into her mind. Cain was a spirit so perhaps he had travelled ... through a dreamspinner? Gaia reeled. In which case, a dreamspinner must have forged a pact with Cain.
