Refuge of Delayed Souls

Prologue

2022-10-05T00:01:00.003+01:00

1967

“Tell me what you see, Elizabeth.”

For God's sake, please don’t encourage her, Henry. It will only lead to tears!”

Henry Whyte turned in exasperation to his wife and lowered his voice. “Look Margaret, you can’t go on ignoring that this is happening. I believe there is a perfectly logical and natural explanation for it, even if your flaming religion wants to convince you it’s got something to do with devil worship!” Henry knew his wife's world was crumbling around her and she was losing control; being in control was the only way she knew how to live.

I don’t want either of you talking about it outside of our house, nor to anyone else do you hear me? I’ll wait for you both in the car,” she turned in a huff and walked away her auburn hair swaying with disapproval.

Henry Whyte sighed. He loved his wife above all others. Anything she wanted, if it was within his power to give, was hers. He understood about the scandal in her childhood, how hard her earlier life had been and that the scars had never healed. He was careful never to say anything cruel that might rub salt in her wounds nor would he ever permit anyone else to do so. He was not prepared to fail his daughter though.

“Don’t worry about Mummy, Elizabeth,” he said crouching down to her level and smiling. You’re not scared are you?”

Elizabeth shook her head. "I'm not scared, Daddy."

“Good! So... tell me what you see.”

“A lady, Daddy. A lady wearing clothes from the olden days,” she whispered with wide excited eyes.

“What is the lady doing, Elizabeth?”

“Watching us,” she paused, and Henry could see that she was seeking further reassurance.

“Yes?”

“I... don’t think she's the same as me or you, Daddy.”

“Why do you think that, Elizabeth?” Henry asked casually, standing up and taking her hand in his own. They walked on slowly.

“She doesn't talk to me when I talk to her and...”

“Go on, Elizabeth.” He smiled encouragingly.

“... she walks through us.”

Henry calmly considered what his daughter had just said. He did not believe in ghosts or the supernatural; the world he lived in was black and white. He did think it quite feasible, however, that buildings could retain residual images of people who had lived in them. He chose his words carefully, “Do you know when you go to Grandma's and you play with that old record player of hers?”

Elizabeth nodded.

“Although the people on those records died a long time ago you can still hear their voices because they were saved onto the records. Sometimes, even some buildings and places can save voices and pictures but only special people can see and hear what they have saved. The special people are like the record player and they can play back what happened a long time ago. You’re one of those special people, Elizabeth. Do you understand what Daddy is telling you?”

Elizabeth was even more excited than before. She let go of her father’s hand and skipped down the long, wooden panelled gallery of the stately home they were visiting, her skirt bouncing with each hop.

“I’m special!” she sang, and then raced back towards her father whose own laughter joined hers in an echo.

“Yes, you are special, sweetheart, and don’t ever forget it! Not everyone is special, though, and some people can get a little bit jealous of those who are. How about we keep this just to ourselves for now?”

“Like a secret, Daddy?”

“Yes, Elizabeth, it will be our secret for as long as you want it to be. Now, let’s go and find Mummy and have an ice cream.”

Elizabeth patted the Springer Spaniel that had just run up and placed a ball at her feet. Henry watched on as his daughter patted thin air.

“This doggy can see us daddy,” she said innocently.

"This isn't going to be easy," Henry thought as they made their way down the stately home's grand staircase and to the waiting car beyond.

Stanley Part 8 - Lhiannan-Shee

2011-04-14T18:00:00.003+01:00

1907

Edwardina looped her arm around Tashriel’s and smiled flirtatiously.

“Come and sit down. Lady Mabel and I are dying to hear all the gossip regarding the dashing Stanley!” She pouted, dragging Tashriel halfway across the blue reception room with her and over to a group of comfy armchairs beside a small table laden with cakes and a crockery.

“I’ll be mother, shall I?” she asked, raising the china teapot and filling three delicate china tea cups. Tashriel and Lady Mabel took the offered cups and played along with her.

“Well?” Edwardina asked, raising one of her delicately arched eyebrows. “Are you going to tell us the full story or not?”

Edwardina had not failed to notice that Tashriel did not appear to be his normal self. He seemed preoccupied and there was something else which Edwardina could not quite put her finger on. She reached for a coconut macaroon and bit into its delicious sweetness.

“Very well,” uttered Tashriel, leaning forward slightly and placing the untouched tea cup back onto the table.

“The talented young man in question has had the misfortune to fall into the path of Arwydau, a member of the Lhiannan-Shee.”

“Talented?” queried Edwardina, her curiosity piqued even further that it already was. “Is he an artist?”

“Not with paints,” replied Tashriel. “With words.”

“Published?”

“Not yet. He will be though, one day, I am sure. Arwydau only reserves her special attention for those with exceptional talent in their field.”

It was Lady Mabel’s curiosity which was now awakened.

“You know her?”

Tashriel responded with an empty smile which failed to reach his sapphire blue eyes. “The Lady and are I are, shall we say, old acquaintances.”

“You were lovers, weren’t you?” Edwardina said with glee, placing a hand on his. “Did she break your heart?”

“For pity’s sake, child! Must you go on about love as though it is some trivial matter to be discussed over tea and macaroons!” Lady Mabel bristled.

Edwardina was possessed by tiny pangs of guilt. She had not meant to behave inappropriately or upset anyone. “I am sorry,” she said sincerely to both Tashriel and Lady Mabel. “I am afraid I opened my mouth to speak without thinking -– again!” And then directly to Tashriel, “I promise to behave while you tell us all about the problem with Stanley.”

Edwardina did not understand why she was so interested in a man she had never met and only briefly caught a look at. There was something so very attractive about him though. She felt driven to learn more!

***

Stanley wrote furiously, his fingers black with ink and his study strewn with papers. Three days’ growth of beard shadowed his face and his eyes had achieved a wild and absent appearance.
He threw himself back in his chair, oblivious to the chaos around him, and grinned at the manuscript on the writing desk. This was his best work yet! It was good enough to rival Doyle and Wells!

Stanley reached for the open bottle of whisky close by and took a long swig from it before hurriedly lighting himself a cigarette. Tomorrow he would go to the library and conduct more research. There was no time to waste; he must be onto it whilst he was in the mood to write. He never knew when his muse would leave him.

He briefly remembered that there was something else that he had intended to do too. Some place he had planned on revisiting. He vaguely recalled a most unusual looking man with long blond hair. Perhaps he had imagined him? He was not sure if he had or not. It was getting harder and harder to tell reality from daydreams these days. Anyway, whatever it was could wait; he had more important things to do.

A twinkling caught the corner of Stanley’s eye and he looked down at his crumpled grey tailored trousers. There it was again! He tried to brush the glittery substance away but no matter how hard he tried it wouldn’t shift. He remained that way for several hours, until he eventually collapsed across his desk and slept fitfully.

To be continued...

Dreamers of Dreams

2011-04-01T10:31:00.001+01:00

April 11, 2011 marks the release of the first volume of Dreamers of Dreams: A Webfiction Anthology. This Ebook release, released simultaneously on several popular Ebook and webfiction stores, is a free book containing excerpts and opening chapters of several web fiction novels currently available for free online. The offerings of the Anthology include both completed works, and novels currently being serialized. A wide variety of genres is represented, from superhero to zombie apocalypse, urban fantasy to science fiction, folk tale to murder mystery, space opera to high fantasy. The purpose of this first installment of what promises to be a regularly released anthology series is to introduce the Ebook reader to free fiction available online that they may not be aware of, and highlight promising new writers who are taking the risks of self publishing online.

Volume one of Dreamers of Dreams will include the following authors and stories:

Ted Campbell - Flyover City!
Eva Shandor - Cold Ghost
Cassandra Stryffe - Zombie Diapers
Bex Aaron - Independence Day
J.J. Adams - The Undeadslayer
Alexander Hollins - Phoenix 2125
Rebecca Wilson - Soul Chaser
Christopher Wright - Pay Me, Bug!
Kyt Dotson - Black Hat Magick
G.L. Drummond - Midnight Intentions
Miladysa - Refuge of Delayed Souls
Meilin Miranda - Scryer's Gulch
M.E. Traylor - Guts and Sass

The anthology is created and distributed by DreamFantastic Publishing, and more information on the anthology, as well as links to the individual authors represented within, can be found at http://www.dreamfantastic.com/anthology/ . A .99 cent version of the anthology, the Author’s Support Edition, will be sold starting the end of April, and will contain additional bonus content from many of the represented authors. Any questions or concerns, as well as requests to be included in future anthology’s, should be directed to Editor@dreamfantastic.com.

Stanley Part 7 - Confused

2010-06-22T10:00:00.008+01:00

1690

At first, Elizabeth thought that the young girl pouring her heart out to them had been Gemma playing one of her tricks. However, it did not take too long before she was convinced the story they were being told by Grace Regan was a genuine one.

The thought of immature Bunny Regan being held prisoner somewhere was chilling. Heaven only knew what he was going through at this moment and how confused and frightened he must be feeling.

Gracie had told them that she was fourteen but she looked much younger to Elizabeth. Gracie’s frail frame was probably the result of a poor diet and very little, if any, health care.

One fact from Gracie’s story was not adding up though. The girl had been specific about the fact that the dog had broken through her skin and given her a nasty bite. There was certainly fresh blood upon Gracie’s shawl and clothes and yet, as far as Elizabeth could see, no open or recent wound.

“How is your arm now, Gracie?” Elizabeth asked.

“It’s...,” Gracie looked down at her wound. “Bloody hell! It’s healed,” she exclaimed. “Sorry for swearing, Miss.”

Elizabeth laughed. “I probably would have said exactly the same thing in your place. No need for the ‘Miss’ either. Please call me Elizabeth.”

What do we do now?

“We make our way to RoYds,” answered Grispheran.

Stanley Part 6 - Dreams

2010-06-11T10:00:00.006+01:00

1972

Elizabeth threw her navy blue beret and coat over the banister, dropped her satchel on the floor of the hall, and then kicked off her black leather shoes. Thankfully, it was POETS day and she could stay up later and not have to get up early in the morning. Her mother called from the sitting room.

“Elizabeth? Do me a favour, will you please? Just fetch me the Cellotape from the study? Thanks!”

What a pain; she had only just walked in the door! Elizabeth made her way to the study, short huffs and puffs breaking out with every other step. Reaching the door of the study, she threw it open with a tut and discovered her father standing there smiling.

“Daddy? Oh, Daddy! You’re home!” She ran into his arms and he held her tight before pushing her away gently.

“Let me take a good look at you. My, I swear you've grown while I've been away! Are you taller than your mother already?” he laughed.

“Don’t be silly! Well, I nearly am!” she grinned back.

Elizabeth studied her father for a few seconds while he rummaged in a khaki-coloured holdall resting on one of the chairs. His short black hair was sleeked back, giving even more emphasis to his high forehead and deep-set eyes. He was tanned a deep brown, but he looked tired. There was something else too. She sensed it every time he came home. Part of him had been left behind.

After a couple of minutes rooting through the holdall, he presented her with a gift wrapped in a white paper bag. "As you're getting older and no longer a baby, I thought I would give you something more fitting for a young lady. I can always take it back if you want to swap it for a doll?” he teased.

She ripped open the bag, opened the box inside, and then gasped with delight. “They’re beautiful! What are those stones, Daddy? Are they real?” Her eyes were sparkling as she pulled the earrings out of the box. “Put them on me please,” she squealed.

Henry Whyte started to chuckle. It was clear to Elizabeth that he loved these moments. They both did. They were all part of their homecoming ritual. He pulled her waist-length bunches to one side as he fed each one through her ear lobes. When he had finished, he said, “They’re pearls I think, sweetheart. And yes, they’re real as well as special! I want you to wear them -– always.”

The milky stones sparkled against the deep silver setting as Elizabeth’s head bounced with delight. Henry sat down on one of the armchairs and patted the arm for Elizabeth to join him.

“How have things been while I have been away? Has everything been OK?”

“Yes. Boring!” She declared with a sigh.

“What about with you?”

“Well, I have been having strange dreams and I saw you in them.” She averted her eyes, concentrating on the jewellery box the earrings had come in as she spoke. “You kill people, don’t you, Daddy?”

Henry stiffened for a split second and then answered, “Yes, I do, Elizabeth. But I don’t kill anyone who would not hesitate to kill me first if they could.”

Thou shall not kill

She nodded. “I know. I saw you in my dreams. Are you a bad man, Daddy?”

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been expecting the question; he knew it would come one day. In fact, he had considered the answer to it many times when he had hours, even days on his hands with nothing else to do but think about questions and moments like this.

“It all depends...” He struggled to find words he had rehearsed in his mind a thousand times before. “The world is not black and white, Elizabeth. Nothing ever is.”

“What if someone kills you, Daddy? Will you come home? Will I be able to see you like I can the others?” She lifted her face and looked into his blue-grey eyes.

“If I have a choice. If I die and there is any way I can come back to you, then believe me, your father will do so.” He meant every word he said.

Satisfied, Elizabeth again turned her attentions to the small box her earrings had come in. “Can I show Mummy, Daddy? What did you get her?

Henry laughed and jumped up from the chair, “Come on. Let’s go and find her!”

Stanley Part 5 - Doomed

2010-06-01T21:20:00.012+01:00

1907

“You’re a writer?”

“I hope to be. Perhaps one day.”

“Tell me about the dreams.”

Nervously, Stanley took a sip of the gin and tonic which had been served to him by the manservant, Wilfred.

“Well, I suppose,” he cleared his throat. “They started a few weeks ago now, I think. I can distinctively remember that I slept well over Easter and...,” he paused trying to calculate just how long it had been since he last had a decent night’s sleep.

“And?” asked the pleasant young man standing at the window of the elaborately decorated room.

“I haven’t slept properly since.”

“I see.”

Stanley observed the rather eccentrically dressed gentleman. They were probably about the same age. He was not one to judge, but he doubted the fellow could wander far without causing disquiet with his manner of dress. Stanley liked to keep abreast of fashion just as much as the next man, but even so, hair that long was one step further than he would ever wish to go.

“This is all?”

“Pardon?” asked a startled Stanley, somewhat embarrassed by the generous smile the other man bestowed on him.

“You seek us out here at RoYds because you are having problems sleeping? Why not visit the local physician or instruct a member of your household to acquire a tonic from a local pharmacist?”

Stanley felt himself blush. He nervously stroked his fine facial hair before taking another sip of the satisfying drink. Now would be a very good time for the ground to swallow him up.

“Is there something else? Something you may be hesitant to mention?”

Stanley fidgeted for a moment or two and then sighed. “It’s about a woman.” His pulse quickened just thinking about her.

“The beautiful, sensual, seductive kind?”

Stanley felt his face blushing like a beacon.

“Most men would welcome such a dream,” his new acquaintance advised casually. “Personally, I find such women irresistible.”

Stanley was a little taken aback to hear this. If he had been a betting man, he would have wagered that the fellow batted for the other side. He was further surprised when the gentleman laughed heartily.

“I do! But not in the way your mind was working.”

“Pardon?” questioned Stanley somewhat shocked. Had his ears just deceived him?

“So, a beautiful, seductive woman climbs into your dreams, into your mind. Would it be fair to say -– to ravish you?”

Stanley nodded in amazement.

“And you’re complaining?”

“Not exactly,” Stanley replied, strangely feeling more and more relaxed if anything. “The problem is...it’s...well I feel like I’m losing my mind...,”

The gentleman sat down on a nearby large sofa. “Please continue.”

“She...the dreams are draining me. Physically. Mentally.,” Stanley hesitated; he was unsure how to phrase what he was feeling.

“Spiritually?”

Stanley nodded.

“This woman in your dreams, does she perhaps leave something behind, some trace upon waking that makes you question whether the dream was real?”

Stanley felt the blood in his face drain. This strange chap may be able to help him after all.

“She does.”

“If I was to tell you what this something is, would you be inclined to believe what else I may tell you, even though it may seem preposterous at first?”

Stanley downed the remainder of the gin and tonic and was amazed when the glass he replaced on the table appeared full.

“Well?”

“Yes, I would.”

“Very well, then. She leaves behind her a faint trail of gold dust. So faint, that you may only glimpse it from time to time and question whether or not it was your imagination playing tricks on you.”

The room felt silent. Stanley considered what he had just been informed. How could he possible know this?

“I met a lady in the meads, full beautiful -- a faery's child, her hair was long, her foot was light, and her eyes were wild.”

“La Belle Dame Sans Merci?”

“To Yeats and others who have crossed their path. The Lhiannan Sidhe gift inspiration to those they persecute. For a short while anyway. Her embrace draws life and breath from you while she grows bright and strong. The madness is just the beginning, followed later by premature death. Even death is no escape.”

“I am doomed then?”

The young man studied Stanley for a moment before speaking.

“Most of us are -– in one way or another.”

***

Edwardina Templeton observed the smartly dressed young gentleman leaving through the side entrance of the RoYds building. Despite having an almost distracted and tired look about him he was undoubtedly attractive. She felt her heart miss a beat and everything around her seemed to grow more alive. Edwardina had experienced such surreal moments before but nothing quite as acute as this one.

Wilfred greeted her at the main door of the building.

“Afternoon, Miss. How are you today?”

She shot him one of her most spectacular smiles in preparation for the interrogation she had in store for him.

“Wonderful, thank you, Wilfred! Now tell me, who WAS that mysterious young man? I think I may have seen him before somewhere.”

“Tragic case, Miss. He...”

Lady Mabel Theawicke joined them in the corridor. Wilfred’s manner suddenly became sheepish. Unfazed, Edwardina continued, directing her question this time at Lady Mabel.

“Is there nothing we can do for him?”

“From what I have been able to ascertain from Tashriel, Mr Stanley Birch finds himself in the most tragic of circumstances. I have no doubt that he shall be remembered for his troubles in some way or another for quite a while following his untimely death.” Lady Mabel informed her with relish.

Untimely death? Edwardina felt crestfallen. There must be a way to help him and she would work her fingers to the bone to find one.

“If I may, Miss?” Wilfred interjected, helping Edwardina to remove her short pink bolero jacket.

“Thank you, dear Wilfred,” Edwardina smiled. Lady Mabel thought that she had seen a slight blush surface on Wilfred’s cheeks but dismissed the idea as ridiculous.

“I’ve laid out tea and cakes in the blue reception room, Miss. There’s some of your favourite Macaroon’s.”

Edwardina planted a peck on Wilfred’s cheeks. This time he blushed profusely. Lady Mabel rolled her eyes and huffed loudly. Her grey skirts dismissing the pair of them with a disgruntled swish as she proceeded to make her way down the hallway.

Edwardina giggled and shared a conspiratorial smile with Wilfred. “I have NO idea why she insists on acting like a fuddy-duddy! We both know she is one of the most passionate women that ever walked the earth! If only I was more like her. I would...”

“And look where it got her, Miss! You wouldn’t want to make the same mistakes now would you? Passion’s not all it’s cracked up to be, I can tell you!”

Edwardina chuckled and linked Wilfred’s arm playfully. “You can?” She feigned shock. “Oh! Please do, Wilfred. Tell me all about your romantic adventures!”

Wilfred turned scarlet.

“We haven’t got all day,” summoned Lady Mabel, her chastising voice eerily journeying down the hallway to meet them.

Edwardina sighed and unlocked Wilfred’s arm. “Well,” she said merrily. “I wouldn’t say that, would you, Wilfred? Some of us have all eternity!” And with that, she went skipping off to join the target of her mischief.

Stanley Part 4 - Strangers

2010-05-27T22:00:00.012+01:00

1690

The night had grown colder and the ground had hardened with a frosty ice layer which crunched beneath Elizabeth Whyte’s feet. Across the moorland, the moon cast an eerie shadow as Elizabeth tightened the belt of her cherry red wool coat and was surprised to find herself feeling reassured by the figure of Grispheran who was standing with Hughie, close by.

The barguest howled and ran off into the distance. Elizabeth shook her head gently, her long blond hair flecked with freshly fallen snowflakes. “So much for magic stones,” she laughed softly. “Now what do we do?”

“It worked, Lass.” Hughie announced patiently as if speaking to a child. “We’re on t’other side.”

“We are?” Elizabeth asked incredulously. “Why does it look exactly the same?”

“Same place, different time,” answered Grispheran.

“What’s happened to the others?” Elizabeth asked perplexed. She pulled up the collar of her coat as she spoke and fastened the top button with her black leather clad fingers.

Both Hughie and Elizabeth looked to Grispheran for an answer to her question. He shrugged nonchalantly.

The crunching of ice beneath feet brought all their attention to a female figure hurriedly scrambling over the moor towards them. Elizabeth recognised Gemma’s auburn hair and features.

What on earth is she wearing?

“It’s not Gemma,” Hughie said, changing his outward appearance to match the apparel Grispheran had adopted.

“What do you mean it’s not Gemma? I’d recognise her anywhere!” replied an exasperated Elizabeth.

***

Fear overcame Gracie as she noticed the trio of strangers standing by the Heyleigh Stones. She did not know whether to run to or from them. She thought about reaching for the magic pearl again and decided to leave it safely in her pocket. She would only take it out if she needed to use it, and next time she did, she would do it intentionally, and not cock it up like the last three times!

She needed to get help and fast. Heaven only knew what those men were intending to do with Bunny. She needed to get him freed and then get them both home safely before something else horrible happened again. Taking a deep breath, she approached the woman. She reminded Gracie of an angel.

Stanley Part 3 - Witchcraft

2010-05-20T22:40:00.005+01:00

1690

“Where are we?” asked Bunny, holding on tight to Gracie’s hand as they wandered through the landscaped gardens they now found themselves in.

Gracie looked across the lawns towards a large stone building with many heavily leaded windows. Hades Hill stood proudly in the distance behind it. She could clearly see a rookery in the trees to her right and Heyleigh dell was behind, as well as to the left of her. If her sense of direction was correct, the building she was now looking at should be Heyleigh Hall; the home of the Theawickes. The one she was seeing was not half as grand or half its size.

“Is this what happened to you, Gracie?” Bunny asked excitedly. “I’ve always dreamed of an adventure. Our Alan says going t’shop and back is about all the adventure I’ll ever get. He’s wrong, isn’t he, Gracie?”

“I suppose he is,” Gracie replied, staring down at the milky stone she was holding in her hand. It must be a magic pearl! She had seen ladies wearing pearls but she had never seen a real pearl up close before, nor had she heard of one with magic powers. She never imagined she would get to hold a magic pearl...or a magic anything come to that.

Gracie hadn’t expected pearls to be warm. All the stones she had known previously had been cold -– stone cold. This one, however, warmed the skin touching it. Where could it have come from? She didn’t have time to think about that now. The best idea would be to put it back in her pocket for safe keeping before it had the chance to do any more damage.

Shouts rang out over the gardens accompanied soon after by the unmistakeable chorus of baying dogs. Gracie and Bunny looked in the direction of the house where they could now clearly see an old man shouting orders at a young boy who was holding two straining dogs by their large and elaborately jewelled collars.

“C’mon!” exclaimed Bunny, dragging Gracie off towards the edge of the dell with him. “They're going to set those mutts on us! Run!”

Gracie did not need to be told twice. They both ran like the wind, but failed to make it further than a clearing in the trees at the edge of the dell before the excited hounds all but closed the distance between them.

“We’re not going to make it!” Bunny screamed over his shoulder. The terrain beneath their feet became steeper with each stride. “Can yer not get us out of here like yer did before, Gracie?”

Gracie reached for the stone in her pocket just as Bunny tripped over a fallen branch and crashed to the ground.

The dogs were upon them!

Bunny instinctively turned from where he lay face down on the ground and valiantly attempted to wrestle one of the ferocious blond-haired hunting hounds snapping at the space around him. He grabbed the animal’s ears and tried to push the frenzied creature away in an attempt to prevent it from savaging his already swollen and blooded face.

Horror-stricken, a helpless Gracie watched as the other hound approached her determinedly. Overwhelmed by panic, she turned and fled.

Gracie had not run much further than a few yards when she passed another fallen branch on the ground. Turning full circle, Gracie bent down hurriedly to snatch it up with the intention of using it as a weapon against her attacker. A living trap of sharp fangs and saliva sprang and sunk deep into her outstretched arm ripping the flesh apart.

Screaming in agony, Gracie lashed out at the second hound with the hand holding the stone. The animal instantly transformed into a skeleton, all flesh and life stripped from it.

The vicious snarls of Bunny’s fearsome combatant morphed into a half-strangled yelp as it turned tail and ran back in the direction from which it came.

Gracie wasted no time in running back to her brother and helping Bunny get back up on his feet using her uninjured arm with the magic pearl held tightly in her palm.

Bunny began to sob like a baby. His tears mingled with dirt and blood to give his usual baby-face a more sinister appearance.

Gracie studied his split lip and bloody nose, then plucked up the courage to confront her own injuries. The ripped flesh was puce, the puncture marks from the dog’s teeth were raised and weeping. Everywhere stung like crazy and seemed to be bleeding.

Despite their injuries, Gracie could not help but think that they had both got off lightly. She gave Bunny a cuddle and his sobs began to lessen. He is never going to grow up, not really, she thought to herself.

Gracie did not know how they had managed to get where they were, but they needed to get out of here and find some help fast. The thought of the damage the magic pearl was capable of scared her. Gracie was torn between the idea of throwing it away and using it again to somehow get them home.

They both heard crashing footfalls and panting as the young and unusually dressed boy joined them expectantly. He glared at them and then his expression turned to sheer terror and disbelief as his eyes fell upon the jewelled collar and bleached skeleton of the dog lying several feet away.

“Witchcraft!” The boy whispered under his breath and crossed himself.

Two other, similarly dressed and older men quickly joined him. Both echoed the boy’s reactions and actions. Still shocked from their experiences so far, Gracie and Bunny remained grounded where they stood.

“It tried to kill me,” offered Bunny in explanation. “We were doing no wrong. We only just got here and he,” he pointed a trembling finger at the young boy, “set them on us!”

Bunny looked like he was going to break into tears again.

“Yer were trespassing on His Lordship’s land!” accused the boy. “

“Wasn’t!” replied Bunny sticking out his tongue.

Gracie watched the exchange, unsure how they were going to get out of the predicament they now found themselves in. Things appeared to be going from bad to worse.

“I’m sorry about your dog,” she said apologetically to the boy. “I’ve no idea what happened to it but it were nothing to do with us,” she lied.

The smaller and more robust of the two men grabbed hold of Bunny. “You’re coming with us! Master Zachary knows how to deal with your kind!”

Bunny’s bottom lip trembled and terrified he turned to Gracie for help. “Don’t let them hurt me, Gracie,” he sobbed. “Use your magic to stop ‘em!”

All three men gasped with shock at Bunny’s words. Gracie had no choice, she would need the stone if she was to help Bunny. She reached into her pocket.

Stanley Part 2 - Spellbound

2010-05-13T21:40:00.006+01:00

1907

Arwydau enjoyed watching the Living human boys. How they liked to dice with death as if they were the immortal ones. They always played a little too close to the edge of the manmade pathways littering the dell, running higher and faster than they should. One minute, young and beautiful, the next, shrouded in grey and shuffling through the end of their days with mortal longings and regrets.

Scowling down at the river bed below, Arwydau noticed a few lingering traces of the annoying, as well as debilitating, orange iron water as it gushed on by.

Swinging her bare legs over the granite boulder beneath her, Arwydau dragged her eyes away from the Living and sprawled out leisurely to soak up the glorious re-emerging sunshine as it broke through the luscious tree canopy above.

What was left of the iron traces the rain had washed from the moor above, down into the river, would soon be flushed further downstream. By the time that happened, she would be dry from the recent rain and refreshed enough to move on.

A crow sounded a warning as one of the Living human boys spied and chased after a couple of Annwn’s hounds who looked to have run off with some papers. The boy stopped abruptly on a narrow outcrop of rock directly above Arwydau. He stared at her, spellbound.

“How on earth did you manage to get down there?” he shouted as if to a naughty child. Then, in a friendlier, yet still superior tone, he added, “Don’t worry! I’ll work my way down and have you safe and sound in no time at all!”

Arwydau laughed. The tinkling notes of her derisive and dismissive outburst lost on the ripples of the fast flowing river below.

Poor deluded Living human boy! She would play with him a little before he fell to his death. Using her magic, Arwydau ensured that the land was firm wherever the Living boy placed his feet and that any foliage he clung to was firmly rooted.

The boy made his way carefully down towards Arwydau and stood dumbfounded on a granite ledge opposite. She watched amused as he sought to figure out a way to reach her.

Arwydau enjoyed the Living boy’s mental anguish. She waited as he ruled out every possible logical option and yet still continued to search for a logical solution.

Arwydau stood up on her ledge, walked over to its edge and peered over into the sheer drop below. Her long red hair floated out around her as if stirred by a gentle breeze. She smiled smugly at the Living human boy before stepping into the void.

Her body shot downwards giving the impression that she would meet with certain death on the jagged rocks beneath.

The shock and horror on the Living human boy’s face was both priceless and pleasurable to her!

Mid-flight, Arwydau stopped suddenly in disbelief. Despite all that he had witnessed so far, she sensed that the Living human boy was still fool enough to wish to save her.

For a moment Arwydau considered pulling him to his death and then she sensed something far more tempting about him. Arwydau rose up to meet him.

When she arrived on the granite ledge, he was trembling with fear and yet he stood his ground, finding a courage within which Arwydau admired greatly.

“What...who are you?” he asked, raising a hand to shield his eyes against the sunshine bursting through the trees and striving to get a closer look at her. The silver blue tones of his irises stood out dramatically against the greys of the granite rocks behind him and the assorted greens of the summer foliage all around.

Arwydau moved closer towards him, pushing him effortless until his back was against the hillside and his breathing was raised. Slowly and leisurely, she leaned the length of her body against his. Her nipples tightened as his large, mesmerised pupils opened wider.

The Living human boy licked his dry lips in order to speak. Arwydau refused to give him the chance. Her soft, plum lips pressed passionately and urgently into his, her tongue flicked into his mouth to taste him.

“I’m Stanley,” he exhaled breathlessly quite some time later. He reached out to gather a handful of Arwydau’s hair.

Arwydau liked this Stanley. She might let him live -– for now.

***

Stanley Thomas Birch tossed and turned. He thumped the white feather pillow under his head then threw it out of the bed where it landed with a thud next to his recent scribblings -- and the pillow he had thrown earlier.

Damn that dream! Always the same one! Night after night after night! It was driving him insane.

Stanley got out of bed and walked over to the bedroom window half asleep. He had no idea why the dream persisted. In the early morning light of the garden below, he noticed a shadow fall across the nearest flower bed and then a small cloud of what looked like gold dust blew up and tapped against the window. His mind fought to decipher what was happening.

Stanley knew that there was some meaning to what he was experiencing, he just could not figure out what it was at the moment. He opened the window; the floor-length heavy lace curtain billowed and the room was filled with a chill.

Suddenly, he felt an urgent need to write, to put all the thoughts spinning around in his head down on paper. As his mind wandered through a chaotic stream of thoughts, tinkling laughter abruptly filled the room. Startled, he turned and let his eyes slide along the voluptuous young woman lying languidly on his bed. Her skin appeared to be whiter than the sheets beneath and had a luminance somewhat similar to mother-of-pearl. Her wild red hair cascaded over her shoulders and way beyond her waist.

The laughter echoed again. Stanley was sure it was coming from the woman and yet her lips remained firmly closed like two fat caterpillars lying one upon the other. He was both attracted and repulsed at the same time.

She patted the bed beside her. “Come, boy,” she said enticingly, again with no movement from her lips.

Stanley ran a worried hand through his thick brown head of hair and frowned.

“I’m not a boy,” he answered louder than he had intended. “I’m a man,” he continued in a quieter tone.

She laughed again. Louder and shriller this time. The caterpillars stirred and parted.

“Even should you live to be a hundred, you will still be a babe compared to me,” she stated flatly and again caressed the bed beside her.

Stanley felt himself walking forwards. His body was obeying her command yet part of his mind managed to rebel and remained within his control. He wanted to discover who she was and how she had entered his bedroom. Try as he might, he was unable to find the strength to ask the questions.

He did not think it was in his best interests to lessen the distance between them. In fact, he wanted desperately to increase it. His mind screamed at him to run but his body continued to propel forward.

“That’s better,” the caterpillars purred against his ear as he sat down on the large double bed. Stanley moved his head away from the caterpillars and gazed directly into the woman’s hard amber eyes. He melted -– all of him -– into her. His lips sought out her flesh, his hands covered every inch, his mind drank in every iota of knowledge that she divulged to him.

The last thing Stanley remembered was the veil of gold dust covering the sheets and her sighs ringing in his ears.

What The Readers Say

2010-05-09T23:20:00.003+01:00

"The everyday and the otherworldly are blended skillfully into one another without the jolting feeling one sometimes finds in contemporary fantasy..."

~Kendal Black

"Paranormal Mystery
... The story itself spans several lifetimes, and, amazingly, never feels made-up or fake."

~Tahjir

"...bloody damn good...
I especially like how it jumps back and forth between time periods to frame the narrative."

~Kyt Dotson

"Gothic Web Opera
"...This story cries out to be read late at night, in a dark room, alone."

~Web Fiction Guide Review

"It’s creepy and chilling, fast-paced and intricate, well researched and laid out - but best of all, it is well written."

~NiSp

"Each of the storylines is a puzzle piece and the beautiful picture will not be complete if you simply throw a piece out. You never know when you may need the information from 1967 to make sense of what is going on in 2007 or what happened in 1938."

~Sora

"A combination ghost story, mystery, and period piece ...At its core, Refuge of Delayed Souls is a ghost story, and a chilling one at that."

~Chris Tejeda

"Ghost Story With A Heart...time-spanning, genre-bending story that creates a powerful emotional attachment with its characters unlike most stories in this genre."

~Avery Tingle

Stanley Part 1 - Return

2010-05-09T23:00:00.010+01:00

1907

Gracie lay still on the ground listening to the low gathering moans of a bitter wind. A thousand or more icy fingers crept across the exposed skin of her spindly arms and legs and scratched her awake.

She tried to open her eyes a little; it was so dark that she was unsure whether or not she had succeeded. Slowly, her eyes grew accustomed to the murky darkness and she was able to make out a few scattered stars in the inky night sky above.

Though uncomfortable, the damp ground beneath her petite frame felt reassuringly solid. Hesitantly, she turned onto her left side and recognised the eerie silhouette of Heyleigh Stones, standing upon the barren moor, as if they had been specifically formed to greet her when she woke.

Gracie was relieved to discover that she was in one piece. The relief departed even more quickly than it had arrived when she remembered that she was supposed to have met up with her brothers, Alan and Bunny, and they should all have arrived home together in time for tea.

No doubt her mother would be worried sick after she had failed to return home as planned. Gracie could easily picture her siblings being read the Riot Act before being sent to bed without any tea. She definitely was not going to be in anyone’s good books after this.

Despite her eagerness to leave Hades Hill and return home, Gracie decided the best way forward would be to let common sense prevail and stay where she was until it was light. She really would be risking life and limb if she tried to make her way down its rugged slope in the darkness.

***

Alan Regan entered the kitchen of the small terrace house and rubbed his arthritic arm furiously, as the cold temperature wrapped around him. He swore and walked over to the black cast iron stove. A medium-sized liver and white mongrel dog left the place where it had been sleeping and joined him. It watched intently as he struggled to get the stove going, and cowered nervously as colourful language, and flying objects, peppered the room until a weak orange flicker appeared.

Alan retrieved a half-smoked cigarette from behind his ear. He lit it upon the now robust open flame and then placed a heavy kettle on to boil. The dog lied down to share the heat source, seemingly relieved although not entirely relaxed. He rested his head on his paws and looked up surreptitiously as his master inhaled the cigarette through pursed lips whilst rubbing his aching lower back with both his hands for several minutes.

The dog leapt up and darted to the rear of the room a split second before the cigarette tip and tube of ash dropped onto his master’s threadbare jumper.

“Basket!”

Swearing and half-demented with rage, Alan swiped at his chest and inadvertently stubbed his toe on the cast iron stove. This time he shouted out in pain and hopped around the room like a possessed frog, rubbing his injured foot.

The latch on the back door rattled, and the wooden door opened and closed firmly behind him. Alan ceased his administrations and reached for two pint-sized, blue and white hooped pots which were on hooks above the wooden kitchen drainer.

“Eh! Talk about timing! Kettle’s on.”

With his back still turned to the rear door, Alan limped over to the pantry and reached inside for some tea.

The mongrel growled and backed as far away from the visitor as possible.

“Shut the fook up!” Alan growled back at it with venom. “It’s only our kid! What the hell’s up with yer?”

He looked from the dog to his younger brother. The small bag of tea fell from his hands and onto the slate grey floor. A shower of black tea leaves fluttered to the ground and settled over and around his bare feet. He continued to stare, his mouth agape and a day’s full growth of whiskers standing to attention on his chin.

“Where’s me mam?” Gracie asked wide eyed, trying to catch her breath from the sprint down the street.

“Mary, Joseph and Jesus!” Alan managed to squeak before reaching for support from the kitchen table.

The latch rattled once more and the door barely had time to creak before the frantic hound dashed out of it and into the distance beyond.

Bernard ‘Bunny’ Regan stood rooted to the spot, the freshly baked loaf of bread he had been set to fetch, clutched tightly to his chest and mangled by his left hand. The only thing holding him upright was his other hand firmly fastened to the iron latch of the open door.

His questioning eyes darted back and forth between his older brother and sister. The two years between them had increased by a lifetime. Gracie’s physical appearance had not aged a single day since the last time they had seen her -- twenty years earlier.

“What?” she cried out, suddenly looking frightened and frantic.

Bunny closed the door then fell back against it. He covered his eyes with one of his hands leaving only a shock of red hair and his mouth and chin visible. He removed the hand and gulped audibly several times before he managed to get a word out in answer.

“Mam’s dead...,” he announced with tears in his eyes. “Dad and our Katie too...our Alan looks out for me now.” He nodded toward the other man in the room.

A perplexed Gracie frowned at the two men.

“It’s been twenty flaming years, Gracie!” A purple faced Alan shouted furiously, shaking the tea from his feet and searching behind his ears in the vain hope of finding another cigarette stashed there.

“What are you talking about? Stop larking around!” Gracie cried, her temper clearly rising and a fight brewing within her.

Bunny, now standing beside her, nodded his head in affirmation as Gracie looked to him for reassurance.

“He’s right,” he confirmed verbally. “Where the heck have yer bin?”

***

Gracie sat on one of the rustic kitchen stools and searched the sparsely furnished room as if looking for answers in the plaster cracks or splintered wood, but finding none.

The tea Bunny had made her cooled within its chipped cup. Alan stared at her with disdain, as though she was one of the bottled specimens in the travelling circus, which visited every autumn. She had no doubts that the man leaning against the wall glaring at her was her older brother. She was, however, finding it difficult to come to terms with the way both Alan and Bunny had seemingly aged overnight.

Bunny knelt down on the cold, hard floor and took her hands in his. They were old and calloused, more fitting her granddad than her younger brother. She studied his face. In the shadow of the man he had become, she could still clearly see the boy he had been.

“Did me mam find yer? She said she would,” Bunny said excitedly.

Alan scoffed behind him. Gracie shot him a disapproving look. He stared back at her with empty eyes. He was even colder and meaner than he had been yesterday.

“What a load of shite,” Alan snarled, filling the kettle and putting it back on the stove. “It can’t be Gracie! Think about it, soft lad. It’s probably some kid dressed up to look like her. Some sick idiot down at the pub trying to put the wind up us!”

Bunny looked hurt. Gracie instinctively reached out to ruffle his hair then pulled back.

“Have yer been away with the fairies?” Bunny asked enthusiastically, taking her by surprise with his change of mood.

Had she been away with the fairies? Gracie tried to remember what had happened on Hades Hill after she looked through the hole in the stone. The only thing she could remember was waking up last night and longing for morning to come so that she could return home.

Gracie tried to hold back her welling tears and failed. She reached into her pocket for her handkerchief and as she pulled it out, something cream-coloured and almost egg-shaped plummeted to the floor, spinning off in the direction of the stone kitchen sink. Alan reached it first. Creaking with arthritis he bent over to retrieve it.

“No!” proclaimed Gracie, rising to her feet and holding her right hand out. The object shot forwards and fell effortlessly into her palm with a slap.

“What the hell?” exclaimed Alan, walking menacingly towards Gracie and Bunny.

Bunny started to tremble.

“Keep yer distance,” warned Gracie, stepping in front of Alan and grabbing hold of Bunny’s hand firmly. Alan continued towards them and stared in amazement, as well as into space, when Gracie and Bunny suddenly disappeared into thin air.

A Series of Novellas by Miladysa

2010-05-08T23:25:00.003+01:00

Refuge of Delayed Souls or - RoYds - as the story has become affectionately known - is a complex, paranormal mystery which encompasses multiple timelines and intertwining stories.

Volume Three ~Sidhe~ ***Updates Every Friday***

Latest Chapter

Grace Regan returns home unexpectedly, a young Stanley Birch meets a mysterious stranger and Elizabeth Whyte journeys through the standing stones.

"Most men would welcome such a dream..."

Book Trailer

Start Reading

Volume One ~ RoYds

Elizabeth Whyte returns following a period of absence and is keen to reprise her role within a mysterious Agency known as RoYds.

"There's no need to shout -– you'll wake the Living."

Book Trailer

Start Reading

Volume Two ~ Billy

Elizabeth's investigations into the past and the supernatural continue.
A barguest wreaks havoc on the moors above the town and
Billy Lawrence is introduced to the world of RoYds.

"I'm on the side of me."

Book Trailer

Start Reading

What The Readers Say:

"The everyday and the otherworldly are blended skillfully into one another without the jolting feeling one sometimes finds in contemporary fantasy..."

~Kendal Black

"Paranormal Mystery
... The story itself spans several lifetimes, and, amazingly, never feels made-up or fake."

~Tahjir

"...bloody damn good...
I especially like how it jumps back and forth between time periods to frame the narrative."

~Kyt Dotson

"Gothic Web Opera
"...This story cries out to be read late at night, in a dark room, alone."

~Web Fiction Guide Review

"It’s creepy and chilling, fast-paced and intricate, well researched and laid out - but best of all, it is well written."

~NiSp

"Each of the storylines is a puzzle piece and the beautiful picture will not be complete if you simply throw a piece out. You never know when you may need the information from 1967 to make sense of what is going on in 2007 or what happened in 1938."

~Sora

"A combination ghost story, mystery, and period piece ...At its core, Refuge of Delayed Souls is a ghost story, and a chilling one at that."

~Chris Tejeda

"Ghost Story With A Heart...time-spanning, genre-bending story that creates a powerful emotional attachment with its characters unlike most stories in this genre."

~Avery Tingle

Billy Part 26 - Silver

2010-03-21T21:30:00.015Z

2008

The light of the full moon formed an eerie silver shadow across the desolate landscape. The five roughly hewn stones, known locally as witch stones, appeared almost to stand as guardians upon the hillside. The barguest lay peacefully beside the farthest one watching Elizabeth and Grispheran patiently.

Elizabeth gazed almost spellbound as she surveyed the wild landscape, every inch of it called out to her. She was overcome by an intense desire to run across it and continue running as far and as long as she possibly could.

And what was now
Floats by forgotten

“Washed away softly, by the call of the soul.”

“What? What did you say?” Grispheran’s spoken words had broken into Elizabeth’s thoughts and carried her back down to earth.

“I quoted from a poem, the name of the poet escapes me for the moment,” Grispheran materialised behind her and placed a hand on each of her shoulders.

On a night like this
When the moon fires silver
Every rush of breath
Coats the mind with frost
And what was now
Floats by forgotten
Washed away softly
By the call of the soul

As cloaks of iced whispers
Rush through the darkness
Every rustle of leaf
Traces desire upon stone
And what was now
Forfeits forever
Burned to a cinder
By the call of the soul

“Thought I’d find you here,” said a voice behind them. “Worked it out fer yer’sels, then?”

Elizabeth spun round. “Hughie! Worked what out? We’ve only just got here!”

“I think yer’ll find you’ve been ‘ere quite a while,“ Hughie said, glancing pointedly at Grispheran. Grispheran shot back a look of thunder in return.

Hughie cleared his throat. “That Ed Lord fellow dug up one of those holey stones. Somehow it made its way to that Howell fella and his crony Davie Blade.”

“Holey stone?” repeated Elizabeth, perplexed.

Grispheran walked over to the largest of the witch stones and directed his conversation for Elizabeth’s benefit. “Each of these stones has a hole ceremoniously carved into it for a purpose. This large one,” he pointed to the stone where he was standing, “was used to cure. The Living would pass a sick child through it three times, an adult would crawl backwards through it nine times.”

“Did it work?” Elizabeth asked sceptically.

“It worked alrite!” answered Hughie enthusiastically. “People forget the old ways, but the magic’s still there if yer believe in it.”

Grispheran gave the pair of them a look of exasperation before continuing. “In any case, these are not the holey stones. A holey stone is the part of the standing stone which has been removed. It is powerful and can do much harm in the wrong hands.”

Grispheran leaned against the large stone he was standing beside. “The holey stone from this one can cause sickness and pestilence.”

“And the others?” Elizabeth asked anxiously. “What are they capable of and how do we know which one has been taken?” Elizabeth’s worried gaze darted between Grispheran and Hughie.

“Luckily, I’ve seen it! It’s about this big,” replied Hughie, forming a fist. “Don’t know what it can do, mind you. Suspect they’ve managed to turn back time somehow? Up until a few hours ago they’d no idea what they’d done or what the heck they were dealing with!”

“They do now,” Grispheran announced calmly.

There was only one stone it could be. The three of them looked over to where the barguest was now standing.

“What was that one used for?” Elizabeth asked Grispheran with trepidation.

Hughie lowered his eyes and kept them fixed on the ground. Sweeping his foot side to side, he flattened the short coarse grass. “They says if one of the Living looks through that ‘un during a full moon they can see t’otherworld, fairies, ghosts and t’future.”

“And so the holey stone does what?” Elizabeth asked Grispheran with an added sense of urgency.

“Unravels time and permits the keeper to dictate how events proceed.”

Something in Grispheran’s manner alarmed Elizabeth greatly. “Why don’t you just go and demand it back?” she asked outright. “I’m sure they wouldn’t be able to resist your powers of persuasion!”

Grispheran and Hughie both laughed.

“Shouldn’t imagine it’s as easy as that, lass.” Hughie said with only half a smile. “Yon man’ll be able to tell us more though,” he nodded in Grispheran’s direction.

“The battle cannot be fought here,” said Grispheran gravely. He had moved away from them and was looking across the hilltop towards the town. “We will have to accompany the barguest back through the stone opposite the one they have taken and we shall have to go tonight while the moon is full.”

“We?” said Elizabeth and Hughie simultaneously.

“You don’t think you’re going anywhere without us do you, Lizzie?” asked Gemma, descending onto the hilltop alongside Paul and Tashriel.

Elizabeth, initially startled, now rolled her eyes -- as if they didn’t have enough problems!

End of Volume Two

Volume Three ~Sidhe~

Billy Part 25 - Dark Shadows

2010-03-21T16:00:00.010Z

2008

Hughie waited in the courtyard of Staibey Nayes. He watched from the encroaching darkness as the workmen switched off the lights inside the building they were working in and made their way home. The smallest of the three buildings, although still dimly lit, was surrounded by such darkness that Hughie was reluctant to get any closer.

He had seen the two men -- the ones Elizabeth had asked him to keep his an eye on -- enter the building earlier. He needed to discover what the mysterious object was that they had in their possession. Hughie gathered all his courage together and entered the building.

The dark shadows completely filled the barren interior, hissing as Hughie passed by. Several flew through him, screeching horribly. Their continued screaming echoed within him, as if some of their particles had somehow lodged themselves within his presence. He pushed on. He wasn’t going to let Elizabeth or the Living down; they needed him.

After what seemed like hours, Hughie broke through the darkness into the room where Davie Blade and Linus Howell were located. Both men were whispering excitedly, encouraged furiously, unbeknown to them, by the dark shadows. Hughie watched as they peered into a small metal urn on the workbench before them.

Valiantly, Hughie continued past the screeching gargoyles and moved into the centre of the room to take a look over the hunched shoulders of the two men. He didn’t know what to expect, but he was genuinely surprised to discover that all the fuss was over a simple pebble. Then something clicked and he remembered exactly what it was he was looking at!

Billy Part 24 - Under Control

2010-03-21T11:00:00.008Z

2008

“You can hold my hand if you want, Bess,” Grispheran offered.

Elizabeth was infuriated with his butter-wouldn’t-melt attitude. “No, thank you very much!” She replied tersely, struggling to place one foot firmly over the over on the boggy landscape they were attempting to walk over. Her maglite had no problem picking out the trail, but the fact was, there wasn’t much of a trail to begin with.

“No? Well, I am surprised! Would you prefer to hold something else instead?” he asked flirtatiously, turning his back on her and carried on walking a few paces ahead.

Enraged, she stopped dead in her tracks and glared at his back. “I wouldn’t touch you with a flaming barge pole!” she blazed, her hair and pearl earrings positively bouncing in the cold dark air. “You are a conceited, chauvinistic, immoral --”

Grispheran spun around and placed himself right in front of her. “Agreed! Handsome, too -- even if I do say so myself!” He leaned in close, as near as practically touching her.

Elizabeth pulled her face and upper torso away from his. “Fuck you!” she spat.

He laughed and shrugged his shoulders casually. “Well, if you insist...”

“Don’t. Say. Another. Word!” Elizabeth fought hard to keep her temper under control and adopt a professional manner. “Look. I have no idea why Stanley thought it would be a good idea to send us two out here but, he did. I, for one, think that we should just get on with it and...” she paused for breath, “get it over with as quickly as possible!”

“Agreed!” Grispheran adjusted the lace cuffs of his shirt and casually brushed a lapel of his malachite velvet coat. He raised his head slowly and ran his fingers through his long wavy hair almost lethargically. For a split second, Elizabeth noticed how very long his eyelashes were.

“You flatter yourself, madam. I offered to hold your hand in order that I might comfortably transport the pair of us to Heyleigh Stones in comfort. If you had accepted graciously -- not that such a thing is in your nature, mind you -- we could have already been there by now and possibly be on our way back!”

Elizabeth now felt rather foolish in the face of Grispheran’s matter-of-fact manner. Though she sometimes was certain that he was just manipulating her, this time she decided she had probably overreacted and read something more into it then was intended.

“My thoughts exactly, Madam!” Grispheran answered, holding his open left hand out to her. His long masculine fingers gave the impression of marble in the darkness and Elizabeth was surprised when she placed her hand in his and received a sensual thrill from his warm flesh encasing hers.

He pulled her closer to him gently and then casually slipped his arm around her waist. As Elizabeth felt her feet rise off the ground she instinctively placed her arm across his lower back. A breeze gently brushed Elizabeth’s hair and then they were standing on the top of Hades Hill within the avenue of Heyleigh Stones.

Elizabeth unconsciously contemplated Grispheran’s face as he delicately removed his arm from around her waist, making her feel as though she was a little china doll in the process. Her eyes traced their way across his full lips and upwards to lock with his alluring deep basalt eyes.

“Let go of me,” he ordered abruptly.

Elizabeth jolted into action and moved herself a short distance away from him.

“I...I’m sorry! I --”

Feeling her cheeks burn, Elizabeth put further distance between them and tripped over a stone.

“Damn!” she cried angrily and spotted the flame red eyes of the barguest watching them both from the cover of one of the upright stones.

Billy Part 23 - Choices

2010-03-19T14:00:00.007Z

1940

Peg and Hughie stood between the edge of the dell and the sloped gardens of Heyleigh Hall looking up towards the grand stone facade of the present day Georgian building.

“What does she want with me?” Peg whispered just in case there was anyone or anything loitering in the dell behind them.

“I’ve no idea Peg. I wouldn’t like to disappoint her, though -– she’s rather used to getting her own way,” replied Hughie, moving on in the direction of the hall.

Peg followed. “Is she now? Well we’ll just have to see about that! I’ve had enough of being pushed around all my life -– I’ll be damned if it’s going to continue now!”

Hughie threw his head back and let loose a great big belly laugh. “That’s the way to go, lass! Up and at ‘em! Mind you, she’s best handled with a bit of tact is our Lady Mabel. I’ve known her for years, ever since I knocked around in the grounds of the Hall as a kid. She’s frightened the living daylights out of me umpteen times. There’s far worse about than her, though!”

Peg shuddered. “Like the figure at the fire station?”

“Aye,” Hughie replied solemnly, looking behind her into the dell.

“What was it?”

“Hard to explain, lass. And if I’m honest, I don’t fully know m’self. You know how the Living shimmer to us?”

Peg nodded.

“Well them things are attracted to that light -– the energy of the Living -– whether it’s human or not. They preyed on us when we were alive too, only we didn’t know ought about it at the time. All those negative thoughts you had over the years and the wrong paths you went down? It were partly their doing. Some of it, mind you -– not all. Can’t blame them for all our own bad choices. They were there though, whispering and nagging -– I’ve watched ‘em at it while I’ve been hanging around like. Seen them at your Billy last night when you...er...”

“Died?”

“Delayed. Aye. That’s not all, either.”

“What else?”

“Those of the Living who have, what you might call, a foot in both camps -– thems that are familiar with both the Living and the Delayed?”

Peg gulped. “Go on,” she encouraged, though with a touch of apprehension.

“Well, you could say they’re a bit like a beef steak to a lion. Those things hang around them all the time -– never give up like.”

“Good grief!”

“Yer can say that again! Mind you...they look out for them at RoYds. Lady Mabel and her like. If she meant any harm, she wouldn’t have sent me along to meet you when you passed over would she? Shows how caring she can be at times.”

“But what about all those stories about her being a devil worshipper, selling her kids’ souls, and one from each generation of her descendants being...cursed? Why would people make up stories like that? There’s no smoke without fire, my mother always said.”

“Aye, mine too. I’m sure you’ll be able to see the good in her if anyone can, Peg. Perhaps that’s why we’re here? So, coming?” They had arrived at the grand entrance to the hall. Hughie placed his foot onto the first of three stone steps leading up to the front door and held out to his hand to her.

Peg laughed. “Just let anyone try and stop me!” she grinned, taking the offered hand and leaping into the hall beside him.

Billy Part 22 - Hades Hill

2010-03-16T18:45:00.007Z

1887

“Mind you stay together, you lot! Make sure you’re back before it gets dark and don’t go far! You hear?”

“Yes, Mam,” echoed the trio of children huddled around the door of the small terraced house before setting off down the street and making their way to the lane leading up to Sky Pond, their tongues wagging and jam jars clanging when their clogs made contact with the cobblestones.

Half way up the lane, the mood changed as the rules for the afternoon were laid down. “We don’t want any whinging from you, our Gracie!” the tallest boy snapped, pointing a bony finger into the chest of the frail-looking girl in front of him. His other arm lay limply by his side. “If me and our Bunny find a docker and want to share it, we will. If you go telling our mam, we’ll have yer guts fer garters!”

“I know better than to tell me mam, Alan,” Gracie snapped back at him. “I’ve still got the bruises from last time!”

“Right then. Don’t say I haven’t warned yer.“

“Don’t think Gracie should be going up Hades on her own. It might rain,” the younger boy quipped hesitantly.

“It might rain? It might bloody rain? Listen, soft lad, it might rain every blinking day! Like our dad says, if it ain’t raining it’s just about to!”

The face of the younger brother flashed as red as his hair and Gracie came to his aid. “Don’t worry about me, Bunny. I’ll be fine. I only want to go up t’stones and dance with the fairies fer a few minutes. I’ll be straight back down,” she bent down to his level and gave him a reassuring smile. Bunny gave her a reluctant one in return.

“Yer can come with me, if yer want?” Gracie added, wide-eyed.

“He not going chasing fairies,” proclaimed Alan sarcastically. “He’ll turn into one -– he’s already half way there! He’s coming with me -– I need him ter help me catch the taddies.”

Bunny’s face crumpled when he heard Alan’s words. He wiped his nose across the sleeve of his threadbare jumper several times and then hitched up his short patched trousers.

“Right, make yersel’ scarce, Gracie,” ordered Alan, walking on and dragging Bunny by his clean sleeve. “Up ter top, five minutes and straight back down to meet us by t’pond.”

“Righty ho,” said Gracie, breaking away from them and giving Bunny a wave.

“An’ don’t be late!” shouted Alan. “Or I’ll...”

“Have me guts fer garters!” shouted Gracie, pulling a funny face that only Bunny caught sight of. She started running, laughing with excitement as she did so and occasionally turned around to watch the minute figures of Alan and Bunny trotting off in the opposite direction towards the deep black sparkle of Sky Pond.

Part way up, Gracie lost sight of her brothers and sat down on the gorse and heather-clad hillside and surveyed the mill town at its foot. The crowd of smoking giant chimneys of the cotton mills below reminded her of the dragon that St. George must have fought in the pace egg play. She shuddered. It was no secret how hard it was in those mills.

Her older sister Katie had aged years since she’d started work there. And now that Gracie was ten, she only had a couple of months to go before she would join her, as Alan’s gammy arm had prevented him from taking his turn first.

She wished she could be like Miss Annabella Templeton and go to school until she was grown up, or be a doll like Lady Caroline Theawicke! Mind you, she didn’t want the curse that Lady Caroline had to live with, no way! She would rather be friends with fairies than devils!

Perhaps Ma Crabtree was right when she’d read her mam’s tea leaves last week. “There will be no mill for Gracie!” Maybe she would be lucky and fall for a job as a servant instead?

A dark cloud passed overhead and Gracie looked up. Bunny was right, it looked like rain. She smiled when she noticed the full moon in the afternoon light -– there would be fairies today -– definitely! She ran on gaily.

***

Panic swept the whole street. Men stood on the corners talking earnestly, women sobbed silently so as to not scare the children. They were all scared though. Every last one of them. Young Grace Regan had gone missing up on Hades Hill and her brothers claimed she was away with the fairies!

Ma Crabtree believed them, as did many of the older members of the community, such as Fanny Parkinson who had gone through the tor ring backwards when she had failed to conceive after eight years of marriage. Ma had told her what to do and her belly had been full within the year. Fanny’s child had the ability to see things others couldn’t, too, just like Ma.

Ma waited for the knock at the door -– she knew they would come. When the hilltop had been searched and no body had been discovered, they would seek her out and she would tell them what they already knew but didn’t want to believe -– not yet. After a while, she knew they would want to believe it for anything would be better than thinking the child was dead.

Mind you, she had seen it in the cups and had told the mother that there would be no mill for Gracie! The mother had taken it that another occupation would call instead, but Ma had a good idea at the time that it had something to do with the stones. She hadn’t expected them to take the child away though, it had been a long time since that had happened. Since before her time.

The knock came, just as she knew it would. She put the kettle on and answered the door. They already knew where Gracie had gone, but they had to hear it from someone else, someone who knew about these things.

Lady Mabel Theawicke

2010-03-14T11:10:00.009Z

Illustration by Ranarh (Jennifer S. Lange)

Billy Part 21 - Angel

2010-03-13T15:40:00.009Z

1967

Elizabeth ran down Market Street and turned into Cotton Row. She needed to be quick -– super quick. Her mother knew exactly how long it should take her to do the errand. Even if there was a queue in the Co-op it should not take more than twenty minutes, any longer and she would be straight after her.

She looked up at the grey stone building. All the previous times she had passed it she had never paid it much attention. Funny that, because the building looked just like something out of a fairytale. It was so easy to imagine Rapunzel sitting at the turreted window.

From where Elizabeth stood, she could clearly see two entrances. She much preferred the grand entrance with the door that looked as though it belonged to a castle, but her granddad had specifically said that she should go in the side one.

Elizabeth was fascinated by the stained glass in the window of the side entrance door. She could make out angels, flowers and animals. She wished she had the time to look at it in more detail but she didn’t have a second to spare. Breathless she rushed inside.

Elizabeth stared hard. The man standing before her looked like a real live angel! He even sounded like tiny chimes; she was positive that the vague tinkling she could hear was coming from him. She studied him closely. His long blond hair fell loosely to his shoulders, like Prince Charming in her storybooks at home. This must be the “Tash fellow” her granddad had told her she might see. She continued to stare wide eyed and panic started to rise in her. There was no way she was going to get the words out in time, make it to the shop, and make it back home again. There was no way!

“Don’t be frightened,” Tashriel said, walking towards her. I don’t bite. He smiled and Elizabeth continued to stare. She felt him touch her on the shoulder.

“Is that better?”

“Yes, thank you,” she heard herself say, gasping for breath. “I’ll have to be quick, I’ve only got ten minutes to tell you and I have got to get to the shop and back home. I think I’ve used nine minutes already! My mum will go mad if I’m late back and...,” she stopped for breath as he raised his hand.

“No need to worry, Elizabeth, there is plenty of time. I promise you that you will be home with minutes to spare.”

Elizabeth blinked several times and continued staring. He really was very pretty.

“So, now that we know why you are here, and...”

“But I haven’t told you yet!” Elizabeth interrupted. “I’ve got a message for you from me granddad and...”

“Yes I know,” Tashriel replied softly. “I knew what your message was as soon as you came in and I asked a friend of mine to go and fetch your granddad and meet us both here. We’ve been searching for your granddad for a long time and now he has found us again. He’s waiting for us with my friend Stanley in another room. Come with me.” He held his hand out to her and Elizabeth placed her small one within it. “Let’s go and join them and have some tea.”

***

Lady Mabel Theawicke watched as the child and Tashriel left the red reception room at RoYds.

“It will be for the best if you stay away from Elizabeth from now on,” she remarked, looking sternly at the man sitting in front of the fireplace with Stanley.

Billy nodded. He could still feel the weight of the child on his lap where she had been sitting earlier. It was almost like she had left a little imprint on his presence. He sighed. He liked the kid, she had done him a big favour, but he didn’t need her any more. Besides, he had to go back before midnight. That was the bargain with Annwn and he had no choice but to stick with it.

“So, you have no idea what happened to your body, only that it’s somewhere in the dell?” Stanley asked, passing Billy a cigarette and lighting it for him.

Billy inhaled deeply.

By heck that’s grand

“Should imagine so,” replied Billy offhandedly looking off into space and then back at Stanley. “I’m not mithered, you know. It makes no difference to me. Unless some fucking hopper’s running about in it! I shouldn’t imagine it though? You would have heard about that by now if they was, wouldn’t you?”

Stanley nodded.

“Well then, best it stays where it is. It’s obviously well hidden. I’ve no need for it either. I suspect after all these years the earth has already reclaimed it. Best thing all round if you ask me.”

“So,” Stanley said, sitting forward in his seat. “This Gorgeous George bloke knocked you on the side of the head with some kind of object and that was it? No light, eh? And the next thing you know you are wandering around the dell twenty years later?”

“That’s about it,” Billy answered, taking a final drag on his cigarette and throwing it into the fire.

“He died in an accident if I remember correctly,” Lady Mabel looked across to Stanley for confirmation.

“Yes, he did. Car crash I think... Obviously, we took a great deal of interest in that outfit after your disappearance, Billy. We knew something had happened to you and that the answers lay with the Living. Never able to get to the bottom of it, mind you. The conclusion was that you had gone directly into the light.”

“Aye, well who knows! Probably would have done, given half the chance! Anything would have been a damned site better than that place I ended up in!” Billy shivered and gazed blankly at his knees. Stanley reached out and patted his shoulder.

“I remember he married Cora Woods and they had quite a handful of children. They seemed to be a good match as far as I could,” announced Lady Mabel as much to herself as anyone else.

“Well, thankfully all that’s over now and a new dawn has begun.” quipped Stanley cheerfully.

Billy looked up and directed his question at Lady Mabel. “Elizabeth told me that...my...Anne died in 1952?”

“Yes, that’s correct,” replied the Lady Mabel, walking over to him, her long grey skirts rustling.

“Did she...did she ever marry again?”

The mask of Lady Mabel’s normally emotionless face cracked a little and her cornflower blue eyes held those of Billy’s firmly. “No. Anne never loved any man but you, Billy.”

Billy wiped away budding tear drops from his own eyes with the back of his hand.

“Aye. I loved her and all that,” he sobbed and then faded away.

Billy Part 20 - Worms

2010-03-09T09:35:00.006Z

1967

Billy watched idly as the little old woman continued to laboriously bend and pick up the few dry birch twigs that were scattered around the clearing. Each stoop seemed to require twice as much effort than the last. So far, her daily foraging did not look to have been very successful. He looked up to the sky; the morning was quickly drawing in, he doubted that she would have the quantity of firewood she required to see her comfortably through the next day. Billy looked towards his own pile. It had taken a strapping bloke like him half the night to come up with a bounty like that. She had no chance!

Billy watched as she struggled to tie her small bundle together. Her hands were chapped, the fingers knotted with age. He tensed as the bushes around him rustled and a little white terrier with one red ear emerged from the undergrowth and padded up to him. He bent down to pat it and delighted with the dog’s enthusiastic response, continued to make a fuss of it.

“Calm down now, lad,” he said playfully, and stood up fully again. The dog reminded him of his own dog, Monty. He hadn’t seen Monty since...he couldn’t remember when.

He looked over to where the old woman had been scavenging. She had moved on a bit, although her bundle of twigs had not grown any larger. Billy had seen the old woman on many occasions but he had never seen the dog before.

“Best get gone now,” he ordered the dog. The dog splayed out on his belly and wagged his tail. Billy smiled despite himself. “What’s up with you? Eh...soft lad,” he said, unable to resist bending down and making another fuss of it.

The old woman had turned around and was catching up the distance between them. Billy noticed a dejected air about her and sighed. Grabbing a large amount of his own prized firewood, he ran over to her, the dog following behind.

“Here,” he said, cheerfully thrusting the wood in the old woman’s direction. “Yer may as well ‘ave this lot as well!”

***

“See that tree?”

Elizabeth looked over to where her mother was pointing and squinting through the sunshine, and peered closely at the very boring tree situated in the tiny garden beyond the graveyard they were standing in. Elizabeth nodded.

My dad planted that tree when I was not much bigger than you are now. In fact, I might have been even younger. He took the pip from an apple I had eaten and planted it in the garden.

“‘One day,’ he’d said, ‘There’ll be a tree here even bigger than the house.’ And we both laughed. Every time I see that tree I think of my dad. Some people believe that as long as a person is remembered, they never die.” Margaret smiled down at Elizabeth and ruffled her hair.

Elizabeth looked at the colourful flowers carefully arranged in the vase beside the black marble headstone and the names carved upon it. 1952, that was in the olden days! Her mother must have been very young when her mum had died. Elizabeth felt sad thinking about it.

“We’ll call in there and have a nice cup of tea with Mrs Bibby, shall we? See how she is?” Margaret said encouragingly to Elizabeth. “If you’re a good girl, we can call and have a toasted teacake for tea at the Myna Bird Cafe!”

Elizabeth smiled brightly and skipped along the cobbled rake leading down from the graveyard and into the town square.

***

Elizabeth concentrated on not staring at the grey whiskers on Mrs Bibby’s chin. It would be such a disaster if she missed out on a visit to see the Myna bird. “Why don’t you go and play outside, dearie? It’s such a lovely day and plenty of juicy apples have fallen off that tree today. Have a look and see if any of them are worth taking home with you!”

“Yes, Mrs Bibby,” she said in her best voice and skipped out of the tiny kitchen into the garden beyond.

Most of the apples had tiny worms in them. Elizabeth giggled to herself; the worms always looked so funny wriggling about. Her dad always told her it was because apples were used to make cider and the worms were drunk. The warmer the day, the drunker the worms! These ones were steaming.

Nobody likes me Everybody hates me

“I think I’ll go and eat worms!” Elizabeth sang out.

Big fat juicy ones Eensie weensy squeensy ones

“See how they wiggle and squirm!” Elizabeth giggled.

“What’s your name?”

“I’m not supposed to talk to strangers!” Elizabeth pouted at the man sitting on the grass beside her.

“I’m not really a stranger.”

Elizabeth tilted her head to one side. “Well, in that case, if you’re not a stranger, you tell me my name!” she said cheekily.

The man laughed.

“You got me there! Is that your mum in there? I think that’s your mum in there because that’s my girl -– that’s my little girl...Maggie.” He answered looking through the kitchen widow and gazing into the room beyond.

“Not so!” Elizabeth said standing up and putting her hands on her hips. “That’s my mummy and her name’s Margaret, NOT Maggie!” She stuck her tongue out at him and then screwed up her face. “So there!”

The stranger also got up onto his feet. “Margaret is her Sunday name but she was always my Maggie. See this tree here?”

Elizabeth nodded wide eyed.

“Well, I planted this tree when it were a little tiny seed like this one here,” he said, picking up another apple and plucking the seed from it. “If you want, we can plant this seed over here and when you grow up it will be bigger than this house!” He walked over to the far corner of the garden and waited for her to join him.

“My name is Elizabeth,” she announced gaily. “What’s yours?”

“Billy. You can call me granddad if you want.”

Elizabeth smiled and nodded.

“Elizabeth’s a Sunday name. How about I call you our Bess?”

Read an Ebook Week

2010-03-07T13:37:00.012Z

Refuge of Delayed Souls Ebooks are Free during
Read an Ebook Week which runs from 7 - 10 March 2010

Use Coupon Code RFREE at the checkout.

Vol One ~ RoYds

Vol Two ~ Billy

Enjoy :)

Billy Part 19 - Supply & Demand

2010-03-05T12:25:00.009Z

1946

“Staibey Nayes?”

“That’s right. They’ve moved out lock, stock and barrel. Heard say now the war is over there’s other places more suited to what they need. Heard they didn’t much like it anyways, spooked by the dell. Its inhabitants more like -- after all those scare-stories we’ve been spreading round!”

Raucous laughter spread throughout the pub like wildfire. Billy looked at his cards. He could win this round. Switch, the twenty stone King of Crime, was in a good mood for a change. Billy put out his cigarette and took a sip of his pint.

“It’ll work out well for storage and also be a good place to hang out when the heat’s on. That swine Allen’s still got a face like a bulldog licking piss off a nettle despite all the readies we’re bunging him. Heard he has quite a grudge against you, Billy -– been shagging his wife or summat?” Blade asked, throwing a ten shilling note into the pot of coins and notes already on the table.

The infectious laughter echoed around the room and Billy joined in. He didn’t mind being the brunt of it, not tonight anyway. Not when he was on a winning streak. He placed his aces on the table. “Not yet!” he said coolly and lit a fresh cigarette.

Switch studied him keenly and then burst out laughing. “Not yet! Not bloody yet! I like his style!” He pushed the money in the pot over to Billy and then continued in a more serious tone, “What’s he got against you, Billy? Apart from the fact that you are a lying, cheating little shit.” Switch leaned in and held Billy’s gaze a fraction longer than necessary. “But then again -– aren’t we all?” he quipped, leaning back and pulling his braces forward.

The room exploded once more.

Billy casually collected his winnings off the table and put them in his inside jacket pocket. He made a mental note to give Ann a bob or two of it to spend on herself and the kiddies. That was if he had any left after he had finished paying his dues and put aside what he needed for his fags, beers and bets next week. He drained his glass and passed it to the vivacious Cora who, as usual, was hovering enticingly nearby.

“A few year back I gave his mother one,” replied Billy in a deadpan manner, inhaling deeply on his cigarette and blowing a smoke circle into the room. Switch actually looked like he believed him. “I’ve no idea,” he added quickly with half a smile. “He’s just a nasty piece of work.”

“You can say that again,” said Gorgeous George from where he stood, leaning against the bar leering at Cora as she walked past with her hands full of dirty glasses. Billy ogled Cora too.

Been there

“Right, gentleman! Time to say good night and thanks for donating to the House of Lawrence. Same time, same place, tomorrow.” Billy kicked his chair back and stood up.

“Not tomorrow,” Switch looked up at him. “I want you to deliver that last load down to the Nayes. Have it there for 10:00 p.m. Mark my words now, lad.”

Billy nodded and walked away, stopping briefly on his way out to have a quiet word and squeeze with Cora at the bar. The opportunity to mark his territory was too tempting for Billy to resist.

***

The road leading down to Staibey Nayes was accessed from the far side of town. It was tree lined, had no street lights and was wide enough for only a single vehicle to manoeuvre at any one time. The road continued for about three-quarters of a mile and to a stranger would seem to come to an end in a wood which appeared on the horizon beyond. A local, however, knew that just before the end of the road was reached, it branched off to the right and opened onto a building complex.

During the war, the entrance to the complex had been barred by a gated sentry box which had been manned by two fully armed security guards at any one time. Tonight, though, the gate was open and the chain and padlock were tossed to the side of the road.

The buildings had existed centuries before the war. For a period of time before war broke out, they had served as a depot for the engines which carried the stone through the dell from the quarries above. Prior to that, they were warehouses for the cloth made in the cotton mills close by and before that still, a local wool merchant had built his mansion here. Ever since records began, there had been buildings in the location of Staibey Nayes. Billy had learned that at school when they had been taught about the Doomsday Book.

Billy expected to get a good cut from tonight’s load. He had no compunction about fuelling the black market. After all, they were only supplying a demand and someone had to do it. If it wasn’t them it would be someone else.

Billy had expected to see other vehicles in the empty quadrant. He pulled up and parked the stolen lorry, and then checked his watch: 21:55. There was still time for a cigarette. He opened the cab door of the lorry and stepped outside into the cold night air. After transferring his cigarettes and matches into his trouser pocket, he threw his jacket and scarf back inside the cab despite the chill.

The wind blew up and whistled through the trees, carrying the sweet scent of night blossoms and the call of an owl. Billy tried to decipher which part of the dell the sound had come from. The silhouette of the leafless trees against the raw black and twinkling night sky caught his attention and he leaned his head back and tried to decipher his favourite constellation, the Plough. The moment was spoilt when the door of the building to his right was opened and Gorgeous George waved him over.

Both men worked up a sweat carrying the cargo from the lorry into the building where Gorgeous had been waiting. Billy also worked up quite a temper. He was raging that no one else had been there to help them. He wasn’t anyone’s fucking monkey! Switch should know better than to waste his time and sweat on shifting this crap.

Eventually, the job was done and Billy followed Gorgeous back into the building to collect his earnings for the night’s hard work. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on that wad of cash!

Gorgeous walked through the former office where they had stacked the goods and into the one beyond, where Billy could see a black holdall resting on a makeshift desk. Billy lit himself a well-deserved cigarette and as he waited for Gorgeous to get the money together, he walked over to the window to continue his earlier aborted search for the Plough.

Fuck

He threw his cigarette on the floor and stomped it out viciously. Standing against a dry stone wall near to the parked lorry below was a young woman in a red coat, looking up at him. Shocked, he watched dumbfounded as she turned and seemed to be intent on something that was happening in the dell beyond. Billy turned to let Gorgeous know about their unexpected visitor and felt the impact of a heavy metal object. Billy fell to the ground and into a vicious kick from the boot of Gorgeous George.

“Not so fucking handsome now, are you, Billy Boy?”

***

Billy was in the water, Charlie was crying out in the distance. Billy swam out to meet him.

again and again

Peg stood between Billy and Michael, her eyes wide and pleading. Billy lifted his rifle and pulled the trigger.

again and again

Cora moaned softly into Billy’s ear, her breasts pressed tightly against his chest. Anne walked in and caught them.

again and again

Billy treaded water as the incendiaries came down and screams echoed around him.

You’re going to Hell, Lawrence

“I’m already fucking there!” He screamed.

Billy Part 18 - Time

2010-03-03T08:20:00.009Z

2008

“Linus Howell,” announced Stanley perplexed.

“I would recognise him anywhere,” said Elizabeth with an involuntary shudder.

It was the first time they had all been together in one place for as long as Elizabeth could remember. Stanley had gathered together his war cabinet. The group of them were crowded around a large circular table in the red reception room at RoYds. Wilfred was busying stacking coals on the already roaring fire behind them.

“Kelly Crabtree is sitting in a classroom up at the college and all of his other victims are walking around as large as...life,” added Paul. “It’s as if his crimes never happened! Of course we know differently, but somehow Howell, or someone...something else, has managed to bewitch the Living into believing otherwise.”

Elizabeth noted the concerned looks around the room before shifting her attention towards Gemma who had placed herself in between Tashriel and Grispheran. Much to Elizabeth’s annoyance, the latter was sitting sideways against the table his own attention also focussed firmly upon Gemma who was flirting with him outlandishly.

“Then there is only one explanation I can offer,” said Stanley, lighting a cigar. “Whatever Ed Lord uncovered up at Heyleigh Stones has magical properties. It would appear that we need to recover it and return it to where it belongs without further delay.

“Agreed,” said Tashriel almost as if he was speaking for all of them.

Lady Mabel leaned forward, placed her elbows on the table and the palms of her hands together as if in prayer. When she had everyone’s attention, including Gemma and Grispheran’s, she spoke with authority. “The last time something like this happened...”

“Was in 1946 when we first lost poor Mr Lawrence,” interrupted Wilfred standing up from the fireplace and walking towards them.

“Ah, Wilfred,” said Stanley twisting in his chair and looking over his shoulder to get a view of him. “Would you like to join us?” he nodded towards the empty chair beside Paul.

The coal dust disappeared from Wilfred’s hands as he joined them at the table and produced a delicious looking display of cakes upon a silver platter.

“Mr Lawrence?” asked Elizabeth quizzically. “Billy Lawrence?”

“The very one, Miss,” confirmed Wilfred. “I did have a soft spot for Mr Lawrence, Miss. Dare say he reminded me of myself in some ways...”

“Quite,” said Stanley in an attempt to bring them back on track again. “We can’t talk about that little episode now -– we haven’t got time. By the way, has anyone actually noticed the time by any chance?”

All eyes focussed on the Edwardian clock ticking merrily upon the black marble mantelpiece.

“What about it?” asked Gemma. “The clock looks to be working fine to me.”

“Always does, Miss,” replied Wilfred reassuringly.

“Then what are we looking at?” questioned Paul.

“11 a.m.,” announced Archie solemnly. “And totally dark outside!”

Billy Part 17 - Hoppers

2010-02-26T22:00:00.007Z

1946

The safe job had been easy enough. Billy was aware that the police suspected he had been involved somehow. He also knew that if they could, they would fit him up for just about anything. The newly promoted Sergeant Allen in particular was a nasty piece of work.

Takes one to know one

Switch had been fair with Billy up until now, so he had no complaints. He had initially misjudged Gorgeous George and Dan the Man -– they were a bit barmy, mean to be sure, but not bad with it. You knew where you were with them and the consequences of crossing them, he could handle that. So far, there had been the one explosives job, a few lorry heists and a huge amount of black market profiteering.

His little side job with RoYds was proving to be a good number too -– money for old rope. He wondered what they had in store for him this time as he walked up to the now familiar open oak door and stepped inside.

“Afternoon, Mr Lawrence. Dark out isn’t it?”

Wilfred never changed. Billy wished he would take the stick out from up his arse and cut the brownnosing.

“Stanley in?” he asked, throwing Wilfred his coat and starting off down the passageway.

“As a matter of fact, Sir, Lady Mabel would like a word with you this morning. You will find her in the office, Sir, first door on the left.”

Lady Mabel! He had yet to have the pleasure! He whistled merrily to himself as he continued down the opulent cobalt blue-decorated corridor and waltzed into the more practical office, usually reserved for unsuspecting members of the Living who required the services of RoYds.

***

“You want me to what?” Billy snarled, closing the distance between them. “Where the hell do you get the idea that I would do something like that? What do you think I am -– your lap-dog?” He was furious.

Jumped up little tart

Billy stopped thinking when his back slapped against the wall behind him and his head smashed up against the ceiling. A split second later the door slammed furiously open and shut leaving him alone in the room.

He looked down, the view was just like he suspected it would be from this angle -– not that he had ever given it much thought, mind you. He would probably break a bone or two if he just fell to the floor and said a silent prayer that whatever power was keeping him up would let him down slowly.

Tashriel appeared in the room below and Billy found himself standing by his side.

“Silver.”

“What?” Asked Billy exasperatedly, brushing the plaster from his made-to-measure navy suit and exercising his neck in an attempt to ease the newly acquired crick in it.

“Silver. Offers no protection against your own kind, but if you carry some on your person, Lady Mabel -- and other factions -- will not be able to harm you. I doubt Lady Mabel intended you any real harm. You are still breathing.”

Smarmy pretty boy

“And who would you be then?” Billy replied sarcastically. “Someone she just mistook me for?”

“I could always put you back up there if you prefer,” Tashriel volunteered, looking up at the space Billy had so recently occupied.

Calmer now, Billy considered Tashriel’s offer. “Er...no thanks!” He pulled a packet of cigarettes from his inside pocket and helped himself to one before offering the packet to Tashriel.

“I know that Stanley enjoys a fag,” he said hesitatively.

Tashriel politely declined. “What was it about Lady Mabel’s request that enraged you?”

“I’m no cold blooded murderer!” snapped Billy in reply, removing the lit cigarette from his mouth. “Seems to me that witch is quite capable of doing the deed herself!”

Tashriel sighed, “As I said, keep something silver on you at all times to prevent it happening in future. Better still, try to get control of your temper.”

Something about Tashriel’s tone brought Billy to his senses. “Aye. Suppose you’re right.”

“Besides, you are simply being asked to contain a situation,” Tashriel remarked casually. “The real John Sweeney is already dead -– your role is merely to evict the entity that is squatting in his body.

***

It had been drizzling all day, perhaps all week, he couldn’t remember. Billy wondered if it would ever stop and, upon further consideration, whether it was possible for an entire town to weep. Personally, he had no time for tears. As far as he was concerned, they would not serve any purpose and only distract from the job at hand.

He buttoned up his navy overcoat, pulling the collar up as far as possible as he did so. Casting his eyes down towards the grey flagstone pavement, he took the identity of a grey man amongst other grey people. The house was straight ahead.

It was not his first visit here; he had recce’d the place on several occasions at various times of the day and night. He knew exactly where he was heading -– some would say straight to Hell. He had no doubt that he would be on the guest list if such a place existed.

Nearly there now, he unbuttoned his overcoat, turned off his wandering thoughts and went into autopilot mode. He knocked on the door and it was answered almost immediately. Billy put his full weight into it, pushed the occupier backwards and into the hallway. Slickly kicking backwards he closed the door in one fluid movement.

Looking into the target's eyes, he saw fear and savoured it for a moment. The anticipation of what he was about to do almost managed to break through the ice encasing any emotion that still existed within him. He washed it back down with a blink and advanced on his captive.

“Who are you? What do you want? The...there’s no money in the house.”

His weapon, of limited choice, was a Webley revolver, but on this occasion it would remain inside his overcoat. “Upstairs.”

“What? There’s no money upstairs either... I don’t have many possessions...”

They were at the bottom of the stairs so there was nowhere his prey could run but upwards, herded expertly by Billy like a Collie dog at a sheepdog trial. When they reached the top of the stairs he speedily herded his quarry into the bathroom and half-filled the bathtub with cold water.

“Get in the bath.”

“What?! I... I don’t understand.”

“Get in!” Billy’s voice, although barely raised above a whisper, was commanding and did not broker refusal.

“Now look here...”

Billy pulled the revolver from his overcoat and snarled in the direction of the bath. The message was conveyed without argument this time as John Sweeney shed his fleece and sat down in the water. Billy returned his revolver to its resting place within his overcoat then lowered the wooden toilet seat and sat down.

Sweeney, or what was left of him, frowned and then looked away, clearly unsure whether or not he should make eye contact.

Billy reached into his pocket and took out a silver ring. At last, Sweeney made the move Billy had been waiting for and reached urgently for the bath plug. Billy leaned forward and threw the ring in the direction of the bathtub. They both watched as the ring flew through the air and descended into the water.

The water fizzled and so did the body sitting in it. Out of its mouth flew a dark shadow no larger than a small moth. It flew to the light of the closed window and banged against the pane.

Damn hoppers

Billy made his way down the stairs and buttoned up his navy overcoat pulling the collar up as far as possible as he did so. He exited through the back door and casting his eyes down towards the grey flagstone pavement he took the identity of a grey man amongst other grey people.

The clock of St. Birch’s told him it was 8 pm. It would be at least a further hour and a half before the body of John Sweeney would be discovered. Billy did not want to think too much about the fate that had befallen its original occupant; those kinds of thoughts might lead to madness.

Billy Part 16 - Fae

2010-02-20T12:13:00.013Z

2008

Elizabeth wished she had not made the decision to take this particular route into the dell. The soles of her boots kept slipping on the uneven stone-strewn surface of the makeshift pathway she was attempting to pick her way over. There was enough sunlight to make her way through; the problem was the amount of rain that had fallen throughout the night. What had earlier been a reasonable path had subsequently been transformed into a ribbon of mud.

She was about halfway through her reckless early morning trek when she consciously acknowledged the singing. At first, she thought her mind was playing tricks on her and that it was some kind of insect. After a while, she realised that it was definitely singing, although no matter how hard she tried, she could not make out the words, or even any tune come to that. There seemed to be a number of voices and they never grew closer or further away.

She decided to step off the path and continue over the short carpet of weeds and bushy plants that edged it. It was a good decision and she was able to improve her speed marginally.

The singing was beginning to irritate her -– who the hell could be making such a racket at this time in the morning? It had been a long time since she had made such adventurous early morning forays into the dell. Just then, she stopped abruptly and took a good look around.

Peg darted from the undergrowth to the side and ran, panting heavily, towards her. Hughie in hot pursuit.

“Quick, lass,” he cried. “We need to get to Annwn’s as fast as we can!”

The look on Hughie’s face did not warrant any argument. Elizabeth took heed and raced behind them as the singing, accompanied by a newly acquired scurrying, pursued them from the distance.

***

Despite her fear Elizabeth gasped with delight when she glimpsed the round, stone built and thatched cottage amidst the trees in the distance.

How on earth

Peg raced through the open door, followed quickly by Hughie. Elizabeth reached it a few seconds later. Her brief view of the dark interior from outside was limited to the glow of a fire and the long back of a wooden settle. The building appeared to be on one level above ground and was no more than fifteen feet wide at its extreme.

The singing and scurrying noise increased dramatically. Elizabeth felt trapped between the devil and the deep blue sea. Just then, Peg poked her small head around the door frame. With one red ear cocked she gave Elizabeth a wide-eyed look.

Elizabeth rushed inside.

***

“You took your time!” said Hughie, closing the door firmly.

“Where did all this come from?” Elizabeth asked incredulously, taking in the room around her.

The interior of the cottage was spacious and full of rustic charm. Peg settled down upon a woven rush rug before the open log fire and Hughie walked over to join her. He rubbed his hands together over the open flames and then turned to toast his backside.

“Always been here, lass.”

“But...but...I’ve never seen it before! In fact, we first met here -– remember? There’s only ever been the remains of a building on this spot before today.”

“Not so,” said Hughie with an air of joviality. “Just cos yer’s never seen it -– doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist!” he chuckled.

Elizabeth walked around the room marvelling at all the wonderful old objects it contained. Carved animal figurines, hammered pewter ornaments, even a small silver mirror. Everything was whispering temptingly to her. She wanted to reach out and touch it all, yet she respectfully refrained from doing so. Just then she remembered the beings they had been running from.

“Fae,” said Hughie distastefully. “Nasty little buggers! It’s the weather yer see -– cheeses ‘em off when the rain washes the iron ore out of t’soil into t'river. What they need is an ASBO -– the flaming lot of ‘em.”

“I’ll second that!” said Elizabeth enthusiastically. “If Gemma Bolton is anything to go by, anyways!”

Hughie frowned. “What? That wee lass? I’ve noticed yer’ve had yer differences -– seems to me that you have a knack of bringing out the worst in each other,” he lectured, helping himself to a green apple from wooden bowl upon a dresser at the far side of the room. “Besides she’s not really fae -– not strictly speaking that is.”

Elizabeth’s was somewhat annoyed to hear Hughie defending Gemma, her green eyes flashed. “What do you mean by that? I should know, I have been at the receiving end of her mischief!”

Hughie shrugged. “Story goes, her Nan was never a full shilling. Wandered off from the Living when she were a nipper and turned up twenty years later, same age as when she disappeared. Claimed to have been away with the fairies -– of course none of the Living believed it.” Finishing the apple, he tossed the core into the fire where it hissed and spit, disturbing Peg momentarily from her slumber.

“S’pect any magic she has is probably ter do wiv something she has in her possession rather than owt else. Maybe her Nan was gifted with something by ‘em? She wouldn’t be the first and I doubt she’ll be the last come to that. They can either love you or hate you.”

Elizabeth considered Hughie’s words carefully. Hughie, with his back towards her, peeked at the breaking sunshine through one of the stone-lintelled windows.

“All I’m saying is, it can’t have been easy for her growing up with a foot in each camp can it? After all, you’ve had a similar experience yersel.” Peg jumped up onto the windowsill and joined Hughie in his observations.

“Is it safe to leave yet?” Elizabeth asked, changing the subject and walking over to join them.

“Shouldn’t imagine so,” said Hughie, glancing at the latched door. “It’ll open when it is. Anyways, what are you doing down here so early?”

“Thought you might be able to help me figure something out,” smiled Elizabeth warmly.