Chapter 21

Chapter

Twenty-One

I might have managed to persuade Hugo to stay behind at the hotel but I had no such luck with Hester or Otis. They’d taken up position in the hotel lounge and they immediately spotted me when I tried to sneak past and go outside.

‘Brilliant!’ Hester zipped towards me with a beaming grin. ‘This is the kind of Plan B I’m talking about!’

I gave her a blank look. ‘Huh?’

‘Running away,’ she said. ‘Fleeing the country and leaving Hugo and the Primes to deal with Athair.’

My jaw dropped as I stared at her.

‘You’re finally going to take your revenge on him for being a better treasure hunter than you are,’ she crowed.

Otis joined her and glared angrily. ‘Hes! That’s not what Daisy is doing!’

‘And he is not a better treasure hunter than me,’ I muttered before I stalked outside. Unfortunately, both brownies followed.

‘There’s Amy!’ Hester waved vigorously at the teenager, who was leaning against the hotel wall with a vape in one hand and her phone in the other. ‘Amy!’ she called. ‘Come join us! We’re running away!’

I rolled my eyes. ‘Nobody is bloody running away. I’m going to a meeting.’

Amy pushed herself away from the wall and joined us. ‘Meeting?’

I felt a twitch of discomfort. ‘I’m a recovering drug addict,’ I said. ‘It helps me to go to support meetings, even when I’m away from home.’ I hesitated. ‘ Especially when I’m away from home.’

She stared at me and my discomfort grew. ‘ You were a drug addict?’

‘Technically I still am. It never goes away, no matter how long it’s been.’

‘But you’re so … so … so…’

‘Annoying?’ Hester asked. Otis glowered at her.

Amy’s nose wrinkled. ‘So together . You’re a Lady. You’ve got screeds of magic at your fingertips. You’re rich and smart and confident.’ She pointed to the brownies. ‘You’ve got underlings. Hugo freaking Pemberville worships the ground you walk on.’

It was quite extraordinary to see yourself through someone else’s eyes. ‘Anyone can be a drug addict, Amy.’

‘I’m beginning to get that.’ She examined me more carefully. ‘What kind of drugs? Heroin? Meth?’

‘Spider’s silk.’

She recoiled and her expression changed. ‘What’s wrong with you?’

‘That’s what we keep asking,’ Hester said.

‘I hate spiders,’ Amy hissed.

I shuffled awkwardly. ‘We know. Anyway, I ought to?—’

‘Can I come with you? Not to the meeting,’ she said hastily. ‘I don’t mean that. I’m too amped to sleep and I could do with a walk if you don’t mind me tagging along.’

‘We’re thrilled to have you,’ Hester said.

‘We are,’ Otis agreed.

So much for my alone time. I yielded to the inevitable. ‘Sure,’ I said, doing my best to smile. ‘Let’s go.’

We wandered down the street in the direction of the building where the meeting was due to take place. The rain had paused and there were chinks of sunlight appearing through the grey clouds. King’s Lynn was much brighter with the change in the weather, and the pedestrianised high street, with its busy shops and pretty plants, was lovely to walk through.

Otis and Hester garnered several wide-eyed stares from the passers-by, which prompted Amy to stare pointedly in return and force them to look away.

Eventually we turned left between a bank and an outdoor clothing store. I checked my phone. ‘It’s only another five minutes’ walk,’ I said. ‘Up that way then around the corner.’

‘Cool,’ Amy said. ‘I’ll walk with you there and then I’ll—’ She broke off in mid-sentence and grinned. ‘Look! That’s got to be him, right? Old King Johnny himself?’

I blinked, flummoxed for a beat until I saw what Amy was referring to. Less than twenty metres ahead of us was a large statue. The other pedestrians were ignoring it, veering around it without a second glance, but I couldn’t prevent myself from stopping and staring at it.

Hester flew straight for it and flicked its nose. ‘Take that, you fucker!’ she yelled.

A passing woman scowled as if she thought Hester’s gibe was directed at her. I hastily jogged over and mumbled an apology. As soon as the woman had continued on her way, I turned to gaze at the bronze figure again.

The statue was perched on a low-lying plinth rather than a tall pedestal so that it was possible to look Bad King John in the eyes. I had no way of knowing whether it was a true likeness of the long-dead monarch but I liked to think so. There was a crown on his head and he sported a neatly trimmed beard. The sculptor had included a sword and chain mail, alluding to King John’s military background, but it was difficult to think of him as a heroic figure even when he was a life-size statue and within touching distance.

Amy joined me and reached out to touch his outstretched hand and then his chest. Three lions were carved onto his bronzed cassock. As she traced the outline of each kingly animal, my heart rose into my mouth. She said something but her words didn’t register.

I took a step back, blood thumping in my ears. Hester frowned and waved at me in confusion as I took another step back. This was not the first time in recent days I’d seen three lions carved like that: there was a corpse inside Culcreuch Castle wearing a gold signet ring with exactly the same motif. A corpse that we suspected was a metal detectorist from this very area.

Otis tugged my earlobe. ‘Daisy?’ he asked anxiously. ‘Are you alright?’

I swallowed hard and nodded. ‘Yes,’ I managed. ‘Yes. I’m good.’

‘We should go. You’ll be late for your support meeting if we don’t hustle.’

I gave a half-hearted nod. ‘The meeting will have to wait.’

Alarmed, he started to flap his wings vigorously. ‘It can’t wait! You can’t ignore your recovery, Daisy! I know there’s a lot going on and you’re distracted right now, but this is important.’

He was right about my recovery; however I was in control and attending a meeting could keep for later. Besides, I didn’t need spider’s silk – I didn’t want any when my blood was buzzing with the start of a real plan that relied on more than luck and tide times.

I dug out my phone and jabbed in a number, impatience making my fingers fat and clumsy. Mark didn’t answer on the first ring or the second or the third. In fact, the phone rang for so long that I was already striding in the direction of the hotel, determined to thump on his door to wake him. Fortunately, he finally picked up and mumbled blearily, ‘Hullo?’

‘Mark, it’s me.’

‘Daisy?’

‘Uh-huh. Listen, what happened with William Hausman? Did you get any further identifying him as the dead body in Culcreuch Castle?’

There was a rustle of fabric as, presumably, Mark sat up in bed. ‘You might have noticed that we’ve been rather distracted lately.’

I didn’t take offence at his short tone; we were all under pressure. ‘Anything you found would be useful,’ I said.

He sighed. ‘Hang on. We don’t have much. We put him on the back burner when everything else kicked off.’

I waited. Hester, Otis and Amy were watching me with identical expressions of puzzlement.

‘Alright,’ Mark said, after a beat or two, ‘I’ve found the right piece of paper. There’s no guarantee that this is the same man, though. We don’t have much evidence to go on.’

‘I understand.’

‘In that case, William Hausman resided at 62 Glynn Close here in King’s Lynn. It was a rented property, which was cleared out around six months after he went missing. His parents are deceased and he has one sister. She moved to Australia more than a decade ago.’

Cumbubbling bollocks. There wasn’t a lot there so it wouldn’t be easy tracking down people who knew him. ‘When did he vanish?’ I asked.

‘February 2012.’

My stomach dropped further. Twelve years was a long time.

‘He was thirty-three at the time. If he had any partners, we’ve not found any mention of them.’

My optimism was evaporating by the second. ‘Anything else?’ I asked. ‘Anything at all?’

‘I think Rizwan found an old Twitter account belonging to him. I’ve got the handle here.’ He read it out loud. ‘I’m afraid that’s all I’ve got.’

‘Can you text me the sister’s details?’ It would be night time in Australia but I could always leave her a message.

‘We didn’t get that far, I’m afraid. All I have is she went to Melbourne.’

Fuck. ‘Alright,’ I said. ‘Thanks anyway.’

‘What is it, Daisy?’ Mark asked. ‘What’s the rush?’

‘We’re searching for a sceptre, right?’

‘Right.’

‘What is a sceptre?’ I asked.

It was Hester who answered. ‘It’s a big stick that I’ll hit you over the head with when we find it.’

I wrinkled my nose. ‘Maybe a better question is what does a sceptre represent?’

Mark’s voice was filled with doubt. ‘Power?’

I smacked my lips together. ‘Exactly,’ I said. ‘Power.’

Amy found William Hausman’s old Twitter account within seconds. There had been no activity on it for years but his old tweets remained visible. We huddled together in the middle of the street as she scrolled through them. ‘There’s not a lot. A complaint about the council, a plug for some local pub, a link to a cat video…’

Otis brightened immediately. ‘A cat video?’

‘Yep. Do you want to see it?’

He clapped his hands greedily. ‘Of course!’

I interrupted. ‘Which pub?’

She pursed her lips. ‘The King’s Head. It looks like a dive.’

I didn’t care what it looked like, I only cared that William Hausman had liked it enough to tweet about it. There might still be people there who remembered him. I jabbed the name into my own phone and found it – it wasn’t even a mile away from where we were standing. My earlier enthusiasm was already returning.

I orientated myself, located the side street and jogged towards it. ‘Hey!’ Amy called. ‘Where are you going?’

Otis sounded concerned. ‘Daisy, what’s wrong?’

‘She’s finally lost it,’ Hester said. ‘All that stress was bound to get to her sooner or later.’

I ignored them and picked up speed. The faster I got to that pub, the faster I could find the answers I wanted. I crossed the street, sprinted around the corner – and came to a sudden halt.

Hester was the first to catch up to me. ‘For fuck’s sake, Daisy. What’s going on with you?’

I didn’t move. I barely even breathed.

Hester buzzed in annoyance – then she looked up and saw what was in front of us. ‘Oh,’ she whispered.

Otis flew to my shoulder. ‘Thank you for waiting,’ he said. ‘What is—?’ He stopped abruptly in mid-sentence and his body stiffened.

A moment later, Amy jogged up. She reacted faster than either of the brownies. ‘What the fuck is that?’

I gazed at Arbuthnot looming in front of us a few metres away. ‘That is a bogle,’ I said. And there were no prizes – not even a raffle ticket – for guessing who had sent him here. ‘Get behind me, Amy.’

‘But—’

‘Get behind me,’ I snapped.

Thankfully, she obeyed. I tensed my body and prepared for an attack. I’d scorch Arbuthnot and the ground he stood on if I had to.

‘I didn’t mean for you to see us,’ the huge bogle rumbled.

Us ? My anxiety ratcheted up another notch as I squinted, trying to see who was hiding behind him and what other threat I’d have to deal with. But Arbuthnot’s companion wasn’t standing behind him; she’d been concealed inside the breast pocket of his oversized tweed jacket and only became visible when she poked out her head to blink at us.

‘Eloise!’ Otis tumbled forward from my shoulder, his fear disappearing at the sight of the blonde brownie. ‘Are you alright? Has this beast harmed you?’

Insulting Arbuthnot, even by accident, was not a good idea but neither Arbuthnot nor I had the chance to react. Hester flashed forward, flying past her brother to grab Eloise’s hair.

The blonde brownie shrieked. Hester shrieked back. ‘Traitor!’ she yelled. ‘Honourless bitch!’ She yanked harder on Eloise’s hair. ‘Where is the bastard? Where is Athair?’

Before Eloise could reply, Otis barrelled forward and slammed into Hester, forcing her away. ‘Leave her alone!’ he yelled furiously.

Hester elbowed her brother. ‘Get it through your thick skull that she’s our enemy, Otis! She’s with that bastard drug-dealing bogle. She works for Athair! Just because she’s pretty doesn’t mean she’s not evil!’

To be fair Hester had made a good point, but one look at Eloise’s miserable expression told me that she was horrified by what was happening. Nothing about this was good. I would have to do something – anything – to defuse the situation. ‘Let’s all take a moment, shall we?’ I said. ‘We’re in a public place. We don’t want anyone to get hurt.’

Unfortunately, as soon as I’d finished my sentence Amy jumped out from behind me, her face a mask of contorted rage. It wasn’t her expression that concerned me, though: it was the knife that she was holding in her right hand. Its blade was only three inches long but it glittered in the afternoon sunlight, implying lethal menace.

Gladys, who was still sheathed at my side, buzzed loudly. Something flashed in Arbuthnot’s eyes and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that all hell would break loose if I tried to slide her out. I hushed her. There had to be a way out of this without resorting to bloodshed. The only thing that sprang to my mind was flattery.

‘I am impressed. The two of you have done well,’ I said.

Amy snarled and stared at me as if I were crazy. I stepped forward, angling myself in front of her outstretched knife in a bid to negate its threat. Arbuthnot also stepped forward. ‘Well?’ he asked.

‘I knew Athair would try and track us down,’ I said, choosing each word carefully. ‘But I didn’t expect him to find us so quickly. I doubt he would have managed it on his own. He’s lucky to have such skilled people working with him.’

Hester growled. Before she could react, I snapped out my hand and grabbed her. Otis smirked and opened his mouth to speak but I silenced him with a glare.

‘Lucky?’ Arbuthnot hawked up a large ball of phlegm and spat it on the ground. I supposed I should be thankful he’d not directed it at us.

‘Ewwww. You ought to see a doctor, mate,’ Amy said. ‘It’s not healthy having that sort of green sludge inside you.’

‘Not your mate,’ he rumbled.

Eloise, who had been rubbing her head after Hester’s hair-pulling attack, frowned at him. ‘Hey, we’ve talked about this,’ she said.

She sounded as if she were scolding him and, despite the tension, I was genuinely surprised. The sight of a blonde brownie the size of my thumb berating the likes of Arbuthnot, a hulking drug dealer whose body was so broad and solid that I’d heard he was once mistaken for a small car, was astonishing.

A deep grumble escaped his mouth then he sniffed. ‘Fine. Not your enemy either.’

My astonishment grew.

Arbuthnot laughed, a short, unamused sound. ‘You think I’m happy about being a fiend’s slave?’ he asked. ‘One minute I’m enjoying life in my own little corner of Edinburgh keeping my punters happy and avoiding the polis. Next minute I’ve got that bastard dangling me on a hook.’ He nodded towards me. ‘And that’s all your fault, girlie. He wouldn’t be interested in me if it weren’t for you.’

‘Remember what we talked about, Buthy Baby,’ Eloise said.

The bogle scowled. ‘Fine,’ he huffed. Then he said eight little words that changed everything. ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend.’