Meet the Parents
Southern England, Mid-September 1944
Details of my new posting finally came through in the second week of August: I had been assigned to the Intelligence Corps, working as an analyst attached to the SIS, and arrived at the specified address off Victoria Street on 14th August to be met by Major Rathbone. Apparently he had been sent home from Berlin shortly after I had, and while not actually being formally declared persona non gratia, he had been strongly encouraged to think twice about returning to the Fatherland any time soon. His campaign to find out what had happened to me had obviously not met with Nazi approval. Still, despite what had happened in Berlin - or perhaps because of it - when he'd heard that I was looking to return to duty, he had apparently requested that I be assigned to his department, which analysed information coming back from the British Treaty Delegation. I was both surprised and flattered, but more than happy to continue working for him after what Audrey had told me, and we settled into a regular routine, working together as well as we had in Berlin.
For the most part I lived in the family townhouse up in Bayswater, and the daily walk to Victoria did me no end of good. The break in Kent and then the regular exercise, finally let me complete the healing process, and soon all that remained of the injury to my leg was an angry red scar, which just didn't seem to want to go away. I was curious why it was that, rather than everything else which had been done to me in the cell, that had left a permanent mark, but came to the conclusion that it was a question I'd probably never answer. Moreover, as far as the nightmares were concerned, what Audrey had done for me had improved things no end. They still hit me every so often, but certainly not every night, and as she'd promised, when I needed the key phrase to distance myself from them, I could remember it.
Audrey herself was also now back in England, rather than still in Germany, although in her case she'd requested a new duty station, rather than having one thrust upon her. Her new posting was in the Foreign Office, and we sometimes met for lunch or dinner in the evening, as her offices were only just across St James's Park from mine. All in all, things seemed to be getting back on the straight and narrow, but I suppose I should have realised that it wouldn't last.
Audrey and I dined at Claridge's on the evening of 15th September - a Friday, when we were both due to be off duty the following day - and after I had seen her safely into a taxi to take her back to her flat in Pimlico, I set off walking home. I had just reached Marble Arch when my entire body was suddenly wracked with pain, as if I was burning from the inside out. I staggered, trying to prop myself up on the smooth marble pillar of the arch, but as I did, the pain became worse. I was losing vision as my mind was overloaded by every pain sensor in my body suddenly screaming its distress, and felt myself slump to the ground.
"Sir...are you alright sir?" came an unfamiliar voice, and I tried to focus on that.
Slowly, the pain began to fade, and my vision began to clear. I was looking up at a policeman. I tried to get to my feet, but my limbs felt like jelly, every synapse still misfiring. Moreover, I could smell the stink of burnt flesh and cloth, and the sheen of sweat covering me made my injuries sting even more. I didn't dare look at myself to see where I'd been hurt, instead focusing on the anxious looking constable. He looked to be in his mid-forties, so he had either served his time in the army and returned to civilian life, or for some reason hadn't been able to join up.
"I need a doctor," I stammered.
"Are you hurt, sir?"
"The burns...can't you see the burns...?" I shuddered and winced, as the burning smell hit me again, and I collapsed back down to the ground. "Please, call me an ambulance."
My plea was met by a stony silence, and as I looked at the policeman, I could see the concern on his face giving way to disapproval.
"Have you been drinking, sir?" he said, coldly.
"Just at dinner," I croaked, "please, help me."
"Pull yourself together, soldier," he snapped, angrily, "its shabby specimens like you which give the rest of the army a bad name. Name, rank and serial number?"
I must have stared at him like a halfwit. This couldn't be happening.
"I said name, rank and serial number, soldier."
"Cushing, Ian. Captain. 5378985," I croaked, trying to fight the pain and utterly baffled at his anger.
"Be assured that I will be reporting your disgraceful behaviour to your commanding officer, Captain Cushing," he said, pompously, and then turned around and walked away.
"Wait...please..." I begged, but he was gone.
I sat there, leaning against the marble pillar, trying to get my breath back, and could see other people walking past and giving me a wide birth. Embarrassed and confused that, given the co-operative spirit which had become commonplace in wartime England (yes, the treaty with the Nazis had been signed, but there was still uncertainty and suspicion over whether it would hold, so we were still on a wartime footing), no-one was willing to help me, I closed my eyes and hoped for the pain to fade. Eventually, after probably fifteen minutes, the pain receded and I trusted my legs to carry me. I forced myself to my feet and then looked at myself to survey the damage.
Nothing. No damage at all. No burnt flesh. No burnt uniform. I was as fit and healthy as I had been an hour before, when I'd said goodbye to Audrey. No wonder the policeman had thought I was drunk.
How the Hell was I going to explain this one to Major Rathbone?
I shivered, and not only from the coolness of the evening, then began slowly making my way home, wondering what the Hell had just happened, and a walk that would normally have taken me about ten minutes took twenty. By the time I reached the townhouse, I was exhausted and I felt a hundred years old. I put my key in the lock, opened the door and stepped inside, and hoped to Hell that I didn't meet my mother as I made my painful progress up to my rooms on the second floor. I made it unnoticed, but by the time I did every part of my body ached, and it was as much as I could do to strip off my sweat-soaked clothing and collapse into the bed.
I woke the following morning, and headed for the bathroom, feeling immeasurably grimy. However, as I caught sight of myself in the mirror, I saw again that there was absolutely no sign that anything had happened to me the night before, despite the fact that my entire body still felt the residual pain: the way you would still feel tension in a muscle which had cramped in the night, or perhaps the pain of a phantom limb after amputation. I ran myself a bath, slipped into it gingerly, and let myself relax. As I did, I heard the sound of the telephone in the distance, but knew that Young Carmichael (the son of the butler at Wittersham House, who had agreed to stay up in town) would answer it in due course.
I lay there for about half an hour, as it cooled around me, before finally deciding to take the day by the horns. I climbed out, towelled myself off, then pulled on my robe and headed back to my bedroom. I dug a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of khaki trousers out of the cupboard and dressed, then made my way downstairs to see if I could rustle up anything for breakfast. I met Carmichael in the hall, taking a breakfast tray through to the morning room.
"Is that for me?"
"I took the liberty, sir, to save time."
"Save time?"
"Major Rathbone called to tell you that he will be here at ten. There is apparently an urgent matter he wishes to discuss with you."
I glanced at the grandfather clock. Nine-twenty.
"Thank you, Carmichael," I said, and followed him into the morning room.
I tucked into eggs, toast and coffee, and once I had polished them off, I went across to the cloakroom to make myself look presentable, before making my way to the library to wait. The doorbell rang promptly at ten, and moments later, Carmichael showed Major Rathbone in. Unlike myself, my commanding officer was in uniform, and his expression was grim. I stood and saluted, as Carmichael asked him if he wanted anything. His response was an abrupt no, so Carmichael withdrew, and then he turned back to me.
"What happened last night, Captain?"
"Sir?"
"I've had a report that you were drunk in uniform," he replied, and I mentally cursed the policeman for his prompt reporting of what he thought he'd seen.
"It isn't true, sir," I replied.
"You don't deny that you met Lieutenant Rose for dinner last night?"
"No, sir. But the maître d' at Claridge's can confirm that I was sober when I left. A couple of glasses of wine...that's it."
"And yet Constable Banks says that he found you at Marble Arch at approximately 10.40pm, falling down drunk. Is there something you need to tell me, Captain?"
"I don't understand..."
"I have to ask this, he said, "you appreciate that, don't you? I know you went through a bad time in Berlin. But as your commanding officer, if what happened to you is going to affect the performance of your duties, I need to know. Are you finding comfort in the bottom of a bottle?"
"Most definitely not, sir," I replied, somewhat indignantly.
"Then what happened?"
"I don't know. I was walking home and something hit me as I was crossing Marble Arch."
"A car? A carriage?" he asked, sitting and indicating for me to do the same.
"I don't know, sir," I answered, my frustration showing in my tone, "all I remember is a burning pain which much knocked me to my knees, and then the policeman found me."
"He said you were seeing things."
"I thought I was on fire...I could even smell the smoke, smell my flesh burning. But when I looked there was nothing there," I said, "With due respect, sir, I don't know what the Hell I was seeing But I promise you that I wasn't drunk."
"Can you remember anything else?"
"Only the pain."
"When did it first hit you?"
"As I got to Marble Arch. There was nothing before that."
"And you've not experienced anything like this before?"
"I swear that I haven't."
He sat back and looked at me, obviously considering what I'd said.
"Were you really ready to return to duty, Captain?" he said, quietly, more concerned than annoyed now.
"Yes, sir," I answered, without hesitation, and he looked at me, carefully.
"Can you guarantee that this won't happen again?" he said, after a tense couple of minutes.
"Without knowing what 'this' is, no, I can't," I answered, and he lapsed into silence again.
"I'm inclined to believe you," he said, finally, "something obviously did happen, but nothing I know about you supports an accusation of drunkenness. Report to the office as usual on Monday, Captain, and we'll take it from there. However, you understand that I won't be able to ignore this if it happens too often."
"Yes, sir."
"Very good, Captain," he said, getting to his feet, and I followed suit, ringing for Carmichael to see him out.
"Enjoy the rest of your weekend," he finished, with a nod, and departed, leaving me feeling surprisingly tense. I knew I'd temporarily dodged the bullet, but I had no idea how to go about finding out what had really happened, and knew only too well that until I did, it could happen again.
After the Major had gone, I found myself something at a loss. My mother was working at Charing Cross Hospital - she had volunteered as a nurse - and so I pretty much had the house to myself. However, that meant that I spent far too long dwelling on what had happened to me and trying to make sense of it. After an hour or so, I took a ride in Hyde Park, hiring one of the horses from the livery stable. The fresh air did me good, and worked out some of the kinks, but it still didn't really relax me. Then, after I got home, I settled down with a book and a couple of magazines I subscribe to - catching up on some of the latest themes and issues in international law - but I couldn't concentrate. I was restless, and could still feel the lingering after effects of what had happened. In the end I turned in early, taking a sleeping pill - I had a few left over from the prescription Dr Matthews had filled for me when I'd left Moncreif House - and went to sleep.
Sometime in the small hours of the morning, I woke up realising that I couldn't breathe. It was happening again. Except this time, rather than fire, I was drowning. I tried to gasp for air but all I felt was water pouring into my mouth. I felt my head pop above water and tried to scream, but then I was sinking back down into the cold, wet darkness.
"Ian...Ian..." came a voice through the water, and I reached my hand up, trying to get hold of whoever was calling me. Then, with a shock, I was back in my bed, panting and trying to cough water out of my lungs. Except there was no water to cough up, so I ended up retching.
"Ian...please...Ian..." The voice was more urgent, now, and someone was pinching me to try to wake me up. I rolled onto my back and saw my mother, perched on the edge of the bed. She looked scared stiff.
"Son...what happened?"
"I was drowning..." I gulped, as I tried to fill my lungs with clean, dry air, and shaking from the drenching I'd felt all over my body.
"I thought you'd stopped having the nightmares...they haven't bothered you since you came back to London."
"So did I," I replied, "but this...this was different."
She lifted me up and held me in her arms, as she had when I was a child, which felt warm and safe. Until my adult self was seized with embarrassment and I pulled away.
"That's better," she answered, and sat back, "will you be alright?"
"I think I'm going to get up for a while - walk around."
"Alright," she said, "but be careful."
"I will."
She nodded, and then departed, leaving me to my own devices. I dressed in a pair of thick corduroy trousers and a woollen polo-neck jumper, and then went downstairs to read for a bit. But it soon became obvious that sleep was going to elude me, and in the end I grabbed my greatcoat, let myself out of the house and started to walk. I didn't really have a destination in mind, but just let myself wander. However, about an hour later, I realised that I was outside Audrey's building in Pimlico. I looked at my watch: 4am. What the Hell was I thinking? With a sigh, I sat down on the step, and without realising what was happening, I drifted off to sleep.
I was awakened by the sharp toe of a fashionable shoe kicking against my ankle and looked up.
"Honestly, Captain Cushing," Audrey said, "what are you doing here littering up the neighbourhood. People will talk."
But I didn't have the energy to come up with a sharp retort. Instead, I just met her eyes, and whispered "Help me".
Concern replaced mischief on her face, and she offered me her hand in silence and pulled me to my feet. Then she took me inside and up to the first floor flat which she rented. She took my coat and installed me in an upholstered armchair beside the gas fire in the centre of the room. I'd never been in her home before, but as I looked around I felt uncomfortable. It was a tiny, one-bedroom place with a kitchenette off to one side of the living room. It filled with ugly, rented furniture, and there was far too little light coming in the windows. My bedroom at the townhouse was probably bigger than her whole flat.
"Drink this," she said, pushing a mug of warm, milky tea into my hand, and I downed it gratefully. I put the cup back down on the rickety table beside the chair, and she took it back to the kitchenette and refilled it, then replaced it on the table. I picked it up, drank about half of it this time, and then set it down again.
"God, what you must think of me," I said, quietly.
"What happened? You look like Hell."
"This is going to sound crazy," I replied, "but I think someone's trying to kill me."
And I told her what had happened, both at Marble Arch, and later in my own home. She listened in complete silence, until I had finished, by which time her expression was somewhere between annoyed and upset. I looked at her and realised that I'd presumed too much on our...friendship...relationship...whatever it was. However, when she spoke, she surprised me.
"How could I have been such an idiot?" she said, angrily, but her anger seemed to be aimed at herself.
"Excuse me?"
"Stupid, amateurish mistake...Ian, I'm so sorry."
I looked at her dumbfounded. Whatever reaction I'd expected, it certainly hadn't been this.
"I should have realised. He must have just collected it up, so he could use it later."
I carried on staring at her, struck completely dumb, and she realised that I had no idea what she was talking about.
"It's Ritter," she said, finally, "he's doing this to you."
I went cold as she said that, and could feel the colour draining out of my face.
"But he's in Berlin..."
"It doesn't matter. He has an arcane connection to you. He must have been waiting, lulling you into a false sense of security, until he could attack you when you weren't expecting it."
"Just for a moment, work on the basis that I don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about..."
"A magical practitioner can achieve effects from a very long way away if they have something to focus on. Something with a strong connection to the person they want to contact...or find...or in this case, hurt."
"Magical practitioner?"
"Yes...remember, Kasimir Ritter is a black magician. I told you this when I busted you out of Moncreif House."
"I remember you saying it...it didn't really make any sense. Magic doesn't exist."
"Stop being dense," she snapped, but then immediately regretted it, "no, that wasn't fair. This is all new to you. But for a moment, trust me when I tell you that it really does exist, and he knows how to use it." I'm sure my expression was unconvinced, but she carried on anyway.
"The most potent arcane connections a practitioner can use are blood, hair or skin. And given what he did to you, you will have left liberal amounts of all of the above behind in Gestapo headquarters. All he needed to do was wipe them up and keep them for later."
"But why? What the Hell have I ever done to him to make him want to do this to me?"
"I truly don't know. As I said before, the only oddity we could find in your background was your father...or lack thereof. It's possible that he knows something, and that's put you on his radar."
"So what? He's made a voodoo doll of me and he's sticking me with pins?" I asked, thinking of the occasional Dennis Wheatley novel I'd read on a wet afternoon.
"That's probably closer to the truth than you realise."
"This is crazy. And what am I supposed to do about it? Just lie back and take it? Until he drowns me in my own bed? Or burns me up in the office?"
"I need to take you to meet some people. Remember I said I knew a group who might be able to help you protect yourself against him? My mistake was not introducing you to them sooner. Drink up, and we can be on our way."
"It's 6.30 in the morning."
"He's an early riser. If we leave now, we should get there in time for breakfast."
Completely at a loss for words, I didn't object as she offered me her hand and helped me out of the chair. Instead I followed her downstairs, and waited while she brought the roadster around. Then I climbed in the passenger side, wrapping my coat tightly around me, and we set off. About fifteen minutes later, I recognised the road as the one I took when I was driving to Kent.
Some while later, we were pulling into the drive of a well appointed country house, the gates topped with statues of a pair of eagles, regarding the road. The brass sign on the right-hand pillar said 'Lyminge House'. As we crossed through the gates, I felt a tingling sensation down my back. It wasn't unpleasant, exactly, but it was very strange.
"What was that?"
"What?"
"Back there, at the gate..."
"Later," she answered, brusquely.
I had the impression she'd realised what I was talking about and she seemed surprised that I'd noticed whatever it was, but I was too tired to press the point. Like so much I was learning about Audrey, if she told me, she told me. A short while later, we pulled up outside the main house. It was built of black timbers and old red bricks, and from the beautifully decorated chimneys on the roof, I guessed it dated from the 16th century. It was an impressive place, although probably not quite as rambling as the more modern (merely 18th century) Wittersham House.
"Come on then..."
She jumped out of the car, and I followed her as she headed purposefully up the stone steps and into a wood panelled hallway which smelled of beeswax and lilies.
"Miss Audrey," said a slightly rotund woman, probably the housekeeper, "we weren't expecting you."
"Is Daddy around?" she asked.
"In the breakfast room, miss."
"Thank you, Mrs Lowry," she said and headed off to the side. I trailed on behind her like a confused duckling, barely stopping as the housekeeper took my coat, tutting with disapproval. Audrey pushed open a set of double doors, and led me into a light, airy room panelled in white. At the end of the breakfast table was sitting a distinguished looking man in his mid to late fifties, with brown hair fading to grey, and a military moustache. His face broke into a wide smile as he saw Audrey.
"Darling," he said, standing up to reveal a compact, wiry frame, and crossing the distance between them surprisingly quickly, then wrapping her in a firm hug.
"Hello Daddy," she said, as she stepped back and kissed him on the cheek.
"What a lovely surprise. Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"
"It all came up rather out of the blue," she answered, "this is my friend Captain Cushing. Ian, my father, Peter Rose."
"Pleased to meet you, sir," I said, offering my hand which he took with a firm handshake. As he did, I was acutely aware that I wasn't exactly dressed to meet Audrey's parents for the first time.
"Audrey's mentioned you...call me Peter, please," he said, his tone friendly, as he completely ignored the fact that I had obviously slept in my clothes, and I could feel the stubble prickling on my chin having not shaved, and then he turned back to his daughter, "So what brings you here so early in the morning, darling?"
"I've brought Ian here because he needs our help," she answered, "would it be possible to get some of the Group here this morning?"
"Your brother is off on assignment somewhere, and is currently uncontactable, and I think Laurence is chained to his desk in London. But I can make a few calls. See who else is around."
"Thank you."
"Grab some breakfast and leave it to me."
"I knew I could count on you, Daddy," she said, with her sunniest smile, and then crossed to the sideboard and started helping herself to eggs and bacon. Unsure what else to do, I joined her, admitting to myself that I was beginning to feel hungry after my nocturnal ramblings.
"Lieutenant Rose," I said as we sat down, "I hope this wasn't all some plot to bring me home and meet your parents. After all, we've only known each other for a few weeks."
"Why Captain Cushing, you wound me," she answered, lightly, "of course I wouldn't do something as forward as that without asking you."
She reached for the coffee pot, poured us both a cup, and we settled down to eat, although my state of agitation was such that I barely tasted the food. I couldn't even muster much conversation, and for the most part we ate in silence. Her father came back about half an hour later.
"I managed to get hold of Freddie and Caroline, and they should be here in about an hour. Not much luck with any of the others. Maybe it's too early."
"Or being Sunday, maybe they're at church," I commented, which earned me a rather odd look from Audrey's father. Audrey herself looked disappointed, although whether at my words or her father's I wasn't certain, but tried to put a brave face on it.
"Don't worry, darling," he reassured her, "I'm sure that between the four of us, we should be able to help the good Captain."
I had so many questions, but when I opened my mouth to speak, Rose just shook his head.
"Later, Ian" he said, then asked, "now tell me. How are Albert and Henrietta? Well, I hope...?"
And thus began the inevitable conversation of who was doing what to whom among the Kent gentry. After we'd finished eating, we adjourned to a drawing room, and the conversation continued, although I had to admit that my concentration wasn't wholly on it. It was probably more on the fact that Audrey was sitting beside me, her hand over mine, occasionally giving it a reassuring squeeze. Eventually we lapsed into a companionable silence until the doorbell rang. Moments later, a well-dressed couple were shown into the library. He looked to be in his early sixties, with a shock of grey hair, and was neatly dressed in a pair of black trousers, a dark grey turtle-neck sweater and a black sports coat. She was younger than him, and was dressed in a loose cotton dress with a light coloured jacket. It took a moment to register that I knew them: Frederick George North, Earl of Guildford, who I'd met occasionally at parties held by my grandfather, and his countess, Caroline.
"Captain Cushing," he said, with a nod of acknowledgement, as he realised I'd recognised him, "I hope your grandparents are well."
"Indeed," I answered, slightly bemused at the oddness of what was going on. He nodded to me, and then turned to Audrey, his expression suddenly more wary.
"Audrey. Perhaps you'd care to explain what's going on."
"I've told you about Ian," she answered, surprisingly formally, as if North was a superior officer or something, "well, something happened on Friday, and again last night, and I was hoping that we could go ahead with what we discussed last time I met you all."
She was being very mysterious, and I wasn't sure I appreciated the fact that she'd been discussing my personal problems with a group of strangers.
"Ian...you don't mind me calling you that, do you...?" North began, and I found myself shaking my head, "good...perhaps you can explain in your own words what happened?"
It was suddenly so quiet in the room that you could hear a pin drop, but I plucked up the courage and repeated what I'd told Audrey. As I spoke, they listened in interested silence, nodding occasionally, as if they understood exactly what I was talking about, despite it making absolutely no sense to me. After about fifteen minutes I came to the end of my recitation, and fell quiet.
"Very interesting," Lady Caroline said, eventually, "Audrey, you did the right thing bringing him to us. But have you told him why?"
"She said that you might be able to help me," I answered.
"And so we can," she replied, "we can give you the training you need to defend yourself from such attacks in the future. Starting with mental shields, and personal wards."
I looked at her blankly.
"You need protecting from Kasimir Ritter's workings. We don't know why he's interested in hurting you, but the very fact that he is means that we cannot let it happen. However, the only way we can do that, is by teaching you the appropriate arcane defences."
I didn't feel any less blank.
"Come now, Ian. Audrey said she'd Worked with you twice now: once to put you to sleep, and once to help you with the nightmares you'd been having. And that you felt the wards around the estate when you came in. She mentioned that you have an affinity for what we do."
"When I asked her what that meant, she told me that was a conversation for another day," I answered, "and somehow we haven't gotten around to that yet."
"Audrey, why ever not?" her father asked her.
"I was worried about him," she replied, her tone surprisingly defensive, "I wanted to make sure he wasn't suffering any further ill-effects, which hadn't made themselves obvious before. And I didn't think he was ready. I hadn't realised that Ritter would try to attack him again quite so soon."
"So you've brought him here...and called us here...revealed our identities to him...and he doesn't know what we are?" North demanded, sounding decidedly angry. Audrey herself looked downcast at the rebuke.
"Hey," I protested, getting to my feet, "I don't know what the Hell is going on here, but you have no right to talk to her like that. She was just trying to help me."
"Sit...down..." North answered, looking me directly in the eye and speaking with a forceful tone to his voice which I couldn't resist. Before I realised what I was doing, I'd complied, "thank you....Audrey..."
She nodded her head in his direction, her posture submissive, and then she turned to me.
"As I've told you. Kasimir Ritter is a black magician," she said, and I felt frustrated.
"We discussed this this morning."
"Yes, but what I didn't tell you, is that my friends and I...the group that meets here. We oppose what he does. Our focus is towards the Light, not the Darkness that Ritter and his ilk spread. White magicians, if you will."
"You're a witch as well?" I said, incredulously.
"We prefer to think of it as a group of like-minded individuals, using the abilities we've been given for good, rather than evil," the countess replied, "and in that capacity, we can help you learn to defend yourself against Ritter."
"Why should I believe you?"
"You've already seen me Work," Audrey answered, "you know I helped you with the nightmares. That's just one of the things we can do. Did you feel threatened at any time when I was linked to you?"
"No...but..."
"But it's hard for you to make the leap from that, past Dennis Wheatley and other such irresponsible escapist fiction about devil worship and summoning demons, to a point where you can believe that there can really be people like us in the twentieth century? People who use their powers for good?" Lady Caroline said, her emerald green eyes peering at me intently.
"That pretty much sums it up," I answered.
"But surely you don't think Audrey is evil? Or why would you have trusted her?"
"Of course she isn't...but."
"Let us show you how things really work," she replied, "you're already used to Audrey, so I would suggest she guides you in this. Brothers, sister, let's adjourn out to the grotto, where we can Work in safety."
There were nods of agreement all around, and she smiled in satisfaction. "Freddie and I will go out there first, and get everything prepared. Why don't you join us in about fifteen minutes?"
And with that, she and her husband rose and left the room, leaving me alone with Audrey and her father. Audrey hovered protectively, while Rose just harrumphed, then stood up and left us alone. I was surprised, until I realised that he was offering me his trust by leaving me alone with his daughter.
"You're a witch," I repeated, dumbly.
"Yes, Ian," she answered, primly, "now please, can we get past that, and I'll tell you what you'll need to do."
"Fine," I said, holding up my hands in a gesture of surrender, the whole situation fast becoming unreal to me.
"The grotto is our Working space...dedicated to the Powers that we honour. When we get there, you will be asked who you are. Give your name, and say that you come in peace. You will then be allowed into the grotto. Once inside, do exactly what you're told. It's not going to hurt, but it will seem strange."
"I'm not sure I can do this."
"You can. Somewhere inside you, this is going to be familiar to you. You just need to remember."
"I don't understand."
"It's my belief that you have the soul of an Adept. You were too receptive to me, both on the plane and later in your library, for it to be otherwise. You also spotted the wards around the estate the moment we drove in, which you wouldn't have done if you didn't have some affinity for what we do. Ritter's interest in you - and his continued attempts to hurt you - would seem to back that up."
"Why?"
"I'm not sure he would be bothering with you, if he didn't believe that you had the potential to be a servant of the Light. To oppose him. So it's vital that we activate whatever potential you have in a controlled manner, so that you can fight him on his own playing field. Without this, he is going to destroy you."
"This is a lot to take in."
"I know it is," she answered, "tell me, do you trust me?"
"Yes."
"Then come on."
She led me out of the library through the French windows, and across a slightly dishevelled lawn. Not for Lyminge House were the close cropped lawns and the bushes clipped within an inch of their lives that we had at Wittersham. Here everything was much softer, and more natural. She led me towards a small, man-made hill with a folly on the top, in the shape of a Greek temple. I'd seen something similar at Kew Gardens, on one of my occasional visits there. However, instead of heading up to the temple, she took me around the back of hill, where there was a small grove of trees. As we stepped into the grove, I felt peace and calm descending on me, and breathed deeply of the fresh, clean air. There was a pile of rocks where the grove met the hill, which looked solid from the outside, until you approached it at a particular angle, and then I became aware of a small entrance, maybe five feet high and two wide. Inside I could make out a slim figure with an equally slim sword in front of it. Audrey indicated the doorway, and gently pushed me in that direction.
"Who comes?" came a female voice.
"Ian, son of Adam," I answered, surprising myself with the choice of address I'd used, "I come in peace."
"Enter and be welcome," she replied, and stepped back.
I crossed to the doorway, ducking my head as I went inside to avoid the lintel. Beyond the door, the ceiling quickly reached a height of about ten feet, and I was able to stand upright. As I did, the countess gave me a kiss of welcome and gestured for me to proceed inside. Once I had passed her, Caroline - it felt right to call her that here - returned to her position to greet Audrey. The chamber I entered was about twenty feet across, and candles were burning on a small stone altar to one side. The smell of incense was heavy in the air, burning in a brazier to the side of the chamber, and I had to resist the urge to sneeze. North was seated on the ground in the centre of the room, beside the brazier, his legs crossed, and while he didn't outwardly look any different to how he had in the drawing room, here he had a presence about him which I'd only glimpsed before. He gestured for me to sit beside him, on a red velvet cushion, and unsure what else to do, I did as I was told.
Audrey arrived a few moments later, and her father a couple of minutes after that. Then Caroline crossed the threshold into the chamber, turned and did something with the sword, then laid it across the entrance. As she finished, I could feel as much as hear the hum of power in the air.
"Ian, son of...Adam," North said, looking at me, "do you solemnly swear that you will reveal nothing of the proceedings you are about to witness."
"I do.
"Do you also swear that you will never reveal the identities of any of those here present."
"I do."
"Then we can begin," he said, with a nod, "Audrey, please take the lead."
Audrey moved around at sat in the centre of the circle, directly in front of me.
"We are going to teach you three things. First, how to put yourself into a Working trance, which is something of a necessity for anything which follows. Then, how to protect your mind from intrusion. And finally, how to protect your body from a magical attack. It's going to be a lot for you to take in in one go, but I believe that once we get started, what I'm saying will make perfect sense to you. Maybe even be familiar. Are you ready?"
"As I'll ever be."
"Good. Now, relax and don't worry," she said, with a reassuring smile. She gently took my face in her hands and began to Work, setting the scene much as she had in the library back at Wittersham House.
The first stage seemed to be a combination of breathing and relaxation techniques. Having had her guide me into a trance state a few weeks earlier (and on the plane out of Berlin, apparently), it wasn't entirely new, although learning how to control it myself, rather than having her do it for me, took a little bit of adjustment. I suppose it was the difference between being hypnotised by someone else, and taking the reins myself. As she guided me, I realised that what she was saying was, indeed familiar to me, although I couldn't for the life of me think why. However, as the light trance descended on me, leaving me feeling warm and relaxed, the notion came to me that while this life of me couldn't understand why, something - or someone - I had been in the past, could. Was this what she'd meant when she'd mentioned I had the soul of an Adept?
"Very good," came Caroline's voice, from what seemed like miles away, "Audrey, I'm inclined to think that you were right about his past experience. That was too easy for a complete novice."
"Perhaps something to look into in the future," Rose answered, his voice equally far away.
I was curious, but knew that this wasn't the moment to pursue my curiosity. Instead I let myself go completely into the trance, and focused wholly on what Audrey was saying to me.
Next, she started showing me how to set up my mental shields. This involved creating building blocks within my mind, built from the mundane and ordinary: the days of the week, the letters of the alphabet, simple mathematical equations, long forgotten quotations from Shakespeare which I'd had drummed into me at Harrow, mentally conjugating French verbs - anything which could present to the outside world a face of absolute banality. The completely ordinary being used as a bastion to protect that which was within. It took me a while to understand what she was getting at and I could feel myself tiring, but I was determined to press on. And eventually, I made the breakthrough: the gentle touch of her mind was gone, as my defences kept it out.
"Very good," she said, quietly, "now, imagine removing the walls, in an orderly fashion, and we can try it again, until you don't need to think of the specific building blocks first."
I followed her voice as she instructed me, and soon I could feel her reassuring mental touch once more. Then we repeated the process again and again, until I could raise and lower the shields without having to construct them from the bottom up. I felt her relax, and her hands dropped to her sides.
"Very good," she said, smiling, "I told you that you'd remember. In the fullness of time, I can teach you how to be selective with them...so that if you want someone to work with you as I'm doing now, you can let them in without compromising your defences against anyone else. However, that can wait for now, until you can defend yourself with confidence. How are you feeling?"
"Tired."
"Do you feel up to working on the physical wards?"
"If they'll stop that bastard Ritter getting to me again, then yes," I answered, with more bravado than I felt.
"Alright. We'll do that now."
With that, she began to teach me how to build a shell around myself, something like a diver's suit fitting around me. In fact, the technique wasn't dissimilar, using the mundane to hide behind, although in this case, the building blocks were much more symbolically physical: brick walls, steel plates, stone battlements. Then, as before, once I'd understood how to visualise the barriers and raise and lower them on command, she moved me beyond that to where the protection became more abstract.
"Do the same thing again," Audrey said, quietly, "try to pull the wards down, and then put them back up again."
I did as I was bid, and found that this time, I could do as she asked almost as if it was second nature, although I have to admit that I felt bone tired.
"Very good," she said, "now, let me guide you out of the trance."
I concentrated on her voice for several moments, as the warm, relaxing feeling slowly faded away. Then I was back in the grotto and aware of everything around me. I could see surprise on North's face, and satisfaction on Caroline's. Over to the other side, Rose harrumphed again, but I didn't get the impression that he was displeased.
"Very interesting," North commented, "it's been a long time since I've come across someone who took to the Work so easily. I agree with Caroline, Audrey. Ian has an old soul."
"Either that, or there's more to him than meets the eye, and he's natural newcomer," Rose commented.
"Do you know how rare it is to find a complete neophyte with any affinity for the Work?" North asked.
"Yes. But consider...that was all of us once, many lifetimes ago. Old souls were young souls once. We just don't know why some return, while others do not."
"Old or new, if he wishes to join us, I think he would be a valuable addition," Caroline commented, "Ian, would you consider becoming an initiate of this group in the fullness of time?"
"I still don't really have much idea of what's going on," I replied, "although at least what Audrey was showing me made a strange kind of sense."
"We would teach you. And eventually - maybe not even that far in the future - you will be ready to join us as a full member of this circle, if that is what you choose to do."
"I have to admit, this feels right," I conceded, "and if my joining you would help fight people like Ritter, then I would willingly do that."
"Excellent," North said, "in the meantime, do you have any questions?"
"Are shields and wards something I can leave up all the time?" I asked.
"Once you're used to them," Audrey replied "however, just now, you're likely to get exhausted if you try. Work up to it. Practise until you're more confident and it is less tiring for you to raise them, before thinking of keeping wards up for any length of time."
"Normally, we wouldn't use personal defensive wards like this unless we felt threatened," North added, "when we're Working, we ward the place, rather than the people, which is what you felt as you came onto the grounds, and I'd guess again into this chamber. But without understanding the nature of what Ritter is doing to you, it's best for you to know both techniques."
"How is this going to help me if he does decide to attack me again?"
"As you practise, your sensitivity will improve," Caroline answered, "so you will be able to spot an attack as it comes in, or possibly even get some inkling that it's coming before that. As soon as you feel what he's doing, you will have time to defend yourself. It may not completely protect you, until you're more used to it, but it should certainly give you the strength to fight off his attacks, rather than you being forced to endure them until he breaks off."
"How quickly is he going to realise it isn't working?"
"Hard to say," Rose answered, "we have no idea how much information he gets back down the link. It may be that he doesn't realise for a while...but if you're lucky, he'll catch on pretty quickly and give up."
"Is there anything I can do to stop him being able to do this at all?"
"Not while he has the arcane connection to you," Caroline answered.
"But could I track back to the samples, and somehow destroy them? Or at least render them useless to him?" I asked, rather to my own surprise, and they looked at me in astonishment. Off to the side, I saw Audrey grin. They were silent for a few moments, before North answered.
"Yes. There is a way. However, its dangerous. Especially as you don't know where he's keeping them and what defences he has on them...and I'd be very surprised if they aren't defended."
"Will it kill me?"
"Probably not, although there are no guarantees. You're obviously physically strong, and have a surprising capacity to heal. But if you get it wrong, it's going to hurt you. Badly."
"What would it involve?"
"You would have to use yourself as a channel to reach out destroy what he has."
"But you can guide me how to do that?"
As I glanced around, it was obvious that Audrey was very unhappy at what I was proposing. North and Caroline appeared more pragmatic, and I could feel concern from Rose.
"Ian, you're tired," Audrey said, "we've been working very hard this last couple of hours, even if you don't realise it, and you aren't used to it. Are you sure you want to do this now?"
"If it finishes this once and for all, then I'd like to try."
"This isn't a good idea."
"Didn't I mention that I'm a stubborn son of a bitch?" I said to her, but she obviously wasn't amused.
"If he wishes to do this, it's his right," North said to Audrey, his tone firm.
"What about his being a 'valuable addition to the group'," Audrey answered, "that isn't going to happen if he kills himself in some foolish move against Ritter. He's tired and if there are any defences on the samples, Ritter will immediately know that they're under attack. He'll resist."
"Audrey, until this spectre is no longer hanging over Ian's head, he isn't going to be safe," her father said, gently, "and neither are we."
"What do you mean?" she answered, obviously taken by surprise by his comments.
"Ritter saw you, darling," he answered, "when you handed him the release order to spring Ian from prison. And there's always the chance that he will connect the dots from you back to us. After all, we know who he is...what he is. What's to say that he doesn't know us?"
"Peter's right," North said.
"Then why did you let me teach him how to defend himself? What was the point if you're going to let him die?"
"We needed to see if you were right," North replied, "the only way to do that, was to see him Work."
"So this was all a test?"
"Remember that he was the one who suggested doing this...not us," Caroline said, quietly, "and moreover, without the defences you've been helping him build this morning, he wouldn't have had a chance. Now he does."
"Audrey, I want to do this," I said to her, quietly, "please, help me."
"I can't," she answered, with a sob, and retreated towards the doorway. I watched her helplessly as she stopped before the sword lying on the ground, then shrank down to the ground, clutching her knees. I was going to get up and go to her, until I felt a hand on my shoulder.
"Leave her be," Caroline said, quietly, "I will help you prepare."
I shuffled round to face her, meeting her gaze unflinching.
"For this, you're going to need to go into a deep trance. Far deeper than you were before. Then you need to reach out towards those bits of yourself in his possession. Do you think you can do that?"
"I have no idea, but I'm willing to try."
"You'll be fine," she said, quietly, and put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. I hoped she was right, "now relax. Let me guide you, and we'll go from there."
I did as I was bid, and soon the relaxing warmth began to flow through me. I felt myself being laid down, and then went deeper into my own sub-conscious.
"Good," came a quiet female voice, "now reach out to your self."
I tried to do as I was bid, and as I did, it was as if my soul had left my body. I looked at myself, and realised that I seemed different in this form. I looked younger, and my hair was redder and longer. I was also dressed differently: a leather jerkin over a woollen tunic, dark breeches and riding boots, and a cloak falling from my shoulders. There was a heavy cross-hilt sword at my hip and a dagger in my boot.
I thought I heard a gasp of surprise from my guide, but I tried not to let it bother me. Instead, I followed my instincts until I had a fix on that which I was seeking. It was a long way away, but I felt myself moving towards it. Soon, I could visualise a room: dark walls, stone cut, an altar similar to the one in the grotto, only covered with a black cloth, into which a roundel of a black dagger and oak leaves on white was woven. On the altar were a number of vials and swabs of cotton, caked with brown, dry blood. However, as I tried to move into the room, I hit something which caused every synapse in my body to fire off in pain.
"Stop there, Ian," said my guide, "the chamber is warded. It will be dangerous for you to go any further."
"Then how..."
"Imagine everything you can see being destroyed by fire. Leave nothing but ash. Remember, what you're seeing is you. You have control over it."
I began to concentrate, reaching my will out to the parts of me that Ritter had collected, and as I did, I thought I felt a fleeting presence. It seemed masculine, but was swathed in an oily black residue. Fear made me redouble my efforts, but as I did, I couldn't help moving closer, and felt my detached self touching the wards again. It was Marble Arch all over again. However, this time, I instinctively I used the pain as a focus and a weapon against the blood on the altar. I could feel myself burning up from the inside, but suddenly everything on the altar erupt in flames, including the cloth covering it. It burned hotter and hotter, and then was vaporised. I tried to catch a breath and withdraw gracefully, but suddenly my soul was gripped by something dark, something wholly evil, and I became aware of Ritter in my head.
"Cushing..." he snarled, and I could feel the force of his anger, "how..."
And then he launched an attack rather than finish his question, and hit me with the full force of his fury. As he did, I tried to withdraw, feeling sick at his mental touch, and defending my mind for all I was worth. My soul form drew the dagger from its boot and brought it to bear to protect itself, and I felt a jolt as it connected with another blade. Then, suddenly, he was gone, and I was smashing out of the trance. The next thing I was aware of, I was writing in agony on the floor of the grotto. I could smell burning flesh and was vomiting in fear and shock. A cool finger touched my forehead, ordered me to sleep and I passed out into blissful blackness.
When I woke up, I was lying on a soft feather bed. At some point my clothes had been stripped from me, and I had been dressed in some kind of loose cotton tunic. I hurt all over, and could feel that parts of my body had been efficiently bandaged. I tried to move my hands towards my face, but a gentle hand stopped me.
"Lie still, Ian," Audrey said, quietly.
"What happened?"
"What do you remember?"
"I hit the wards, and then he was there. I tried to defend myself, but he was too strong."
"No, he wasn't," she said, quietly, "you succeeded. You destroyed the blood and you managed to fight back astrally, long enough to escape. But it took its toll on you. As you burned the samples, the arcane connection they had back to you - the one which let him hurt you from a distance - kicked in, probably some kind of trap he'd set up, and you were caught in that. He took advantage and tried to press an attack, but you fought him off."
"How badly hurt am I?"
"Nothing that won't heal in a week or so. You look rather scorched, but I think most of it is psychological - the same as before, at Marble Arch. But you physically burned yourself as well, as you rolled into the incense brazier as you were thrashing about."
"Hell, I feel like I've been pulled out of a burning building...or a burning fighter plane. I saw some of those guys at Moncreif House. It takes them months to recover, and I only just got over the last extended convalescence."
"Trust me. It won't take you that long. We will help you. You're one of us now."
"One of you?"
"A novice of the group. You belong with us."
I thought about arguing, but then I realised that she was right. I felt safe there.
"Given that you already seem capable of functioning on the Second Road...the Astral Plane...names for it vary, depending on the tradition of the Adept...but whatever you call it, it shouldn't be possible without training; and given that you did manage to defeat Ritter, despite his being an experienced Adept, I rather think you'll graduate from novice to initiate far faster than we would usually expect. Maybe as soon as Samhain, and certainly no later than Imbolc next year. Your Astral form is an interesting one, though."
"Astral form?"
"The form your soul takes when you're on the Second Road, depending on the tradition of the Adept. It's a manifestation of how you see yourself...or perhaps, in your case, how your subconscious sees you, given that you've never been taught how to visualise it. You must have seen it, as you were targeting in on the samples. Late Saxon, I'd say, or early medieval? Some kind of knight or nobleman, probably."
"I remember something like that, but I didn't understand what it was."
"Don't worry. We'll teach you."
"How do you know about it?"
"I was back in the link with you and Caroline by the time you hit the wards. I couldn't leave you to his mercy."
"Thank you," I said, reaching out and taking her hand, then squeezing it. She didn't seem to object. We sat there in silence for a few moments, before I spoke again.
"So how long do you think I'll be staying here?"
"A couple of days, at least."
"Then I guess someone needs to tell Major Rathbone that I won't be in the office tomorrow."
"Don't worry. That's all been taken care of. Now lie back and relax, and next time you wake, you'll feel much better."
And she passed her hand across my eyelids, and I was once again asleep.
The next time I awoke, the bandages were gone, and I could move all my limbs without pain. I also felt surprisingly relaxed and refreshed.
"Welcome back, Captain," came Rathbone's voice, and rather startled, I opened my eyes to see my commanding officer sitting in the chair beside my bed. He was the last person I had expected to see just then, "how do you feel?"
"Almost human again," I answered, realising it was true, "how long was I out?"
"It's early Wednesday evening, so three days, give or take."
"No-one sleeps for three days straight..."
"I could argue that no-one heals from second degree burns in three days, either, but there you go," he replied, "and sleep was the best thing for you."
"Where am I? And why are you here?"
"You're at Lyminge House. Lieutenant Rose kindly informed me where you were. A top lass that one. You should make sure you don't lose her. But now, I can hand over to her, and I'll see you back in the office on Monday."
And with that he stood up and walked out, leaving me speechless at the complete non sequitur of his presence. Unless he, too, was somehow part of the Lyminge group. Thinking back, Audrey's father had mentioned a Laurence who was chained to his desk in London. Audrey had said that she had worked with Rathbone in Berlin, to secure my release, but I'd assumed they hadn't met before then. But what if they had, and that was why he went to her for help?
I was still puzzling when she came in a few minutes later and helped me up to a sitting position.
"You're going to be fine," she said, with a warm smile, "the bathroom is through that door, and once you're up and dressed, come and join us for dinner. Mrs Lowry has cooked one of her rather fine game pies in celebration, although we always think it best not to ask where she gets the ingredients from."
She got up to leave, but I caught her hand and pulled her back down, until her face was near to mine. And then I put an arm around her neck, and brought her lips to mine. She didn't resist. The kiss was a long one, becoming more passionate as it went on, but in the end I let her go before things got out of hand.
"Have I mentioned that I love you, Lieutenant Rose," I said, quietly.
"You hadn't, but it's extremely convenient," she answered, her tone mischievous, "because I love you too, Captain Cushing. Now, make yourself presentable, and I'll see you downstairs in half an hour."