Lycans and Legends

Chapter 11: Abbey House

We left the ancient monolith in Salisbury and headed to Glastonbury. Jericho fell asleep in the back along the way.

“What do you expect to find?” Lionheart asked me.

“I’m not sure. Once, long ago, you asked me if I had ever gone to the summer country. Do you remember?”

Lionheart nodded.

“Why did you ask me that?”

“Creeping around as long as I have—as you never forget to remind me—one encounters other preternaturals. Long ago, when I was searching for the grail, I met a woman who had the same light and a similar flowery scent that you have. I encountered her, albeit briefly, at the ruins of a castle in the Westlands.”

“Who was she? What was she? Was she human?”

Lionheart shook his head. “I don’t know. She was there and gone. But the magic that surrounded her filled the air with the strange perfume that encapsulates you.”

“Strange?”

“Unusual.”

“Unusual?”

“Divine.”

“Ah, that’s better.”

Lionheart grinned, but then his expression turned serious. “You must be cautious. I believe you have some hopes pinned on what you may find. Am I right?”

He was. Buried below my interest in solving my case, my desire to protect Victoria and the realm, was my hope that seeking out the druids would finally provide me with some answers about myself.

“Yes.”

“There is a reason the Red Capes do not intermingle with the druids. Your desire for answers could put you at risk.”

“I’m not worried. After all, I have a werewolf at my side. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“They could shoot me with a silver bullet and haul you off to the Otherworld.”

“Are you always so grim?”

“That’s why I’m still alive.”

“Well, I’ll keep your warning in mind.”

“You know, it seems rather counterintuitive to go to the ruins of an Abbey in search of druids.”

“We’re not going to Glastonbury Abbey.”

“Then where are we going, Agent Louvel?”

“I think…I think we’re going to Avalon.”

* * *

It was already dusk when the ruins atop Glastonbury Tor came into sight. The sunset soaked the sky with hues of magenta, orange, and deep purple. The moment I saw the place, my whole body started to buzz. There was a strange ringing in my ears that I couldn’t shake.

Lionhead gazed at me.

“Are you all right?”

No.

“Yes.”

“Liar.”

“I just… Do you feel anything?”

Lionheart looked thoughtful. “Yes,” he said simply.

He turned the auto down a narrow drive that wound around the Tor.

“Where are you going?”

“Abbey House,” Lionheart said.

“Abbey House?”

He nodded. “You are in luck, Agent Louvel. Your new beau is of wide acquaintance.”

I grinned. My new beau.

As we drove down the road, a nervous feeling rocked my stomach. I felt the urgent need to do…something. But what? Anxiety made me shift in my seat. Soon, a manor appeared on the horizon. Lionheart pulled the auto up to the front.

“I’ll be but a moment,” he said, then slipped out and went to the door.

I watched as the butler appeared in the doorframe, silhouetted by golden light from within the manor.

“Where are we?” Jericho asked groggily. He’d been sleeping for most of the ride, the explorer’s cap still on his head.

“Glastonbury,” I told him.

He yawned tiredly.

I reached back, pulled off the hat, then smoothed down his wispy blond hair, which was jutting out in all directions. I set the cap on his head once more.

“Lord, I’m hungry,” he said as he rubbed his eyes. “Will Sir Richard get us something to eat? Who is that man he’s talking to?”

A second man had appeared at the door. This gentleman was just a slip of a thing, wearing spectacles that were too big for his face. The man clapped Lionheart on the back, and the two headed our way, the butler following behind.

“I don’t know.”

“Which part? The food or the man?”

“Neither.”

Jericho chuckled. “You’re funny.”

The butler hurried ahead and opened the door. I tipped my chin to Jericho, motioning for him to follow me out of the auto.

“Thank you,” I told the butler then took Jericho’s hand.

“Sir, may I present Agent Clemeny Louvel. And this is my ward, Jericho. Clemeny, this is John Fry Reeves, a fellow antiquarian.”

“Mister Reeves,” I said, giving the man a polite curtsey.

“I scolded Sir Richard for not letting me know he was coming,” the elderly man told me. “I have some papers for you, Sir Richard. I was planning to pack them up and send them on to you at King’s College.”

“I apologize. It was an impromptu trip. Agent Louvel is working on a case that led her here.”

“Agent Louvel, you say,” the old man said, eyeing me over. He nodded thoughtfully. “Rude Mechanicals business, I suppose. How did you get yourself mixed up with them?”

“Agent Louvel is very persuasive.”

He chuckled softly. “I bet,” he said, raising then lowering his eyebrows. “And this is your ward. Jericho, you said?” he said, bending to examine the boy who gripped my hand a little more tightly and took half a step behind me.

“Yes,” Lionheart replied. “Jericho, please say hello to Mister Reeves.”

“Hello, Mister Reeves,” Jericho said shyly.

I pitied Jericho. He had lived a life sheltered away from the world. Ever since he’d come to London from the Fens, his life had been nothing but change. Lionheart had the double task of raising a lycan, but also helping a child acclimate to the world outside the swamps. It was no easy task. I’d done my best to help where I could. I never missed a day, stopping in to see the boy. Afwyn had handed the child to me, making me promise to watch over him. My heart went out to the boy. I knew what it felt like to be an orphan. But more than that, I cared for the child.

Mister Reeves chuckled, his manner friendly. “Sweet little chap. And have you been off expedition?” he asked Jericho, motioning to the hat.

“I dug up a bone today,” Jericho said softly, still half-hiding behind me.

“You did? Well, very good. Very good. Why don’t you all come in? I’ll have Franklin see to some rooms for you. And I bet a bite to eat wouldn’t hurt anyone,” the old man said, smiling at Jericho.

“I hate to impose. I am sure there is an inn nearby,” I said.

“Not at all, Agent Louvel. Sir Richard is an old friend. I’ve been hunting Joseph of Arimathea, you see. With Sir Richard being a grail scholar, our paths have crossed many times. Yet here we are, both of us still looking, both of us still empty-handed.”

Lionheart laughed. “True.”

“Well, time will tell if either of us can solve our riddles,” the man added as he motioned for us to follow him inside.

The house was nicely appointed. A stately, gentleman’s estate, it had a beautiful foyer with hardwood floors and polished wood panel walls. A chandelier hung over a center drum table upon which sat a bouquet of fresh flowers. Their scent perfumed the place.

“Let’s go to the sitting room. Franklin, please have a supper prepared for our guests. And ensure Elizabeth prepares some rooms for the night,” Mister Reeves told his butler who nodded.

Mister Reeves led us to a sitting room which boasted an ornate fireplace, tapestries, richly upholstered furniture, and a view of Glastonbury ruins framed by a massive window. The view almost looked like a painting.

“Clemeny,” Lionheart called, motioning for me to join him at the window.

Leading Jericho, who was still holding my hand, I went to him.

The window was at least ten feet in height. The view framed the arching ruins of Glastonbury, which were soaked in the rosy hues of the sunset. As I stared out at the place, my mooneye started messing with me. The stones of the ruins shifted and wavered, there one moment and gone the next. I narrowed my gaze. Beyond the sight of my good eye, but evident with my mooneye, I saw the spirits that haunted the place. Balls of fairy light, glimmering in shades of blue, green, silver, and gold, floated throughout the ruins. The magic emanating from the place was more than I could stand. Stonehenge was nothing compared to this.

“A heap of stones now but once an important center. I tracked Joseph of Arimathea here, Agent Louvel, then lost him,” Mister Reeves said.

“And with him, the grail,” Lionheart added.

“I don’t like it,” Jericho said, surprising me.

I looked down at him.

He was scrunching up his face at the sight. The expression was far too reminiscent of his birth mother, Lady Charlotte, for my liking.

“And why not?” Lionheart asked.

“Too many fairies.”

I raised an eyebrow at the boy then looked at Lionheart who turned his gaze to me. But why should we be surprised? Jericho had been raised by elementals. Of course, he’d been taught to see the Otherworld.

Mister Reeves laughed. “The place does have a haunt to it, doesn’t it, lad? Not to worry, though. This old house is warded.”

“Warded?” I asked.

Mister Reeves chuckled. “I bought this place from one of your employers, Agent. A member of the Rude Mechanicals built it. Superstitious lot. But I’m sure you know that already.”

“To be frank, I’m rather surprised you know about my employers, sir.”

“When you’re in the trade of hunting down the strange and unusual, it won’t be long before you bump into the strange and unusual,” he said then clapped Lionheart on the shoulder. “Brandy, Sir Richard?”

“Yes, please.”

“And you, Agent Louvel?”

“Please.”

“And let me see what I have for the young man,” he said then crossed the room to the drink cart. “How about cherries and limes, Master Jericho?”

Jericho looked up at me.

I shrugged. “Try it.”

“Yes, sir.”

Master Reeves smiled, nodded, then went to work. A moment later, he returned with drinks for all of us. He handed Jericho a bubbling drink filled with candied cherries and limes then turned to Lionheart. “A toast, old friend?”

“To Joseph of Arimathea,” Lionheart said, lifting his cup.

“To Joseph of Arimathea, wherever he may rest,” Mister Reeves replied, and we clicked our glasses together.

I took a sip, hoping the brandy would calm my nerves. This place had all of my senses on edge. Leave it to the Rude Mechanicals to build a house on the fringe of the Otherworld.

“Sir Richard, since I have you here, would you mind having a look at a manuscript I’ve recovered? It was found hidden in a crate in a hayloft, of all things. What luck! I’ve been trying to work out the letters, but they’re so faded. I can’t make out whether it says fated or faith,” Master Reeves said, motioning for Lionheart to examine a yellowing tome lying on a nearby desk.

Lionheart met my eye for a moment, nodded to me, then joined Mister Reeves.

I sat down on an ottoman near the massive window. Jericho, who was holding his drink with both hands, stared outside.

“Come here,” I said softly, pulling him to sit on my knee. “What do you see out there?” I whispered.

“Fairies. They’re everywhere.”

“Fairies or spirits?”

“I can see the fairies. Are there spirits too?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t see them. You can?”

I nodded.

“This place reminds of me of the fen.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s…loose.”

“Loose. Yes, that’s a good word to describe it.”

We both looked out at the scene.

“Do you miss the fens?”

Jericho nodded. “I miss Anwyn…and the others. But I like being in London with Lionheart. And you.”

“I’m glad. One day, once things are a little more settled, we can return to the fens and see them.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because they are gone now.”

“Gone?”

Jericho nodded. “Into there…somewhere,” he said, motioning with his chin.

“How do you know?”

“I just know.”

I stared at the ruins. I was sure Jericho was right. Anwyn said they were barely holding on. Maybe the boy was all that was binding them to this world. Now that he was gone, had the elementals—no, gods—receded into the Otherworld too?

“Clemeny,” the boy whispered in a low voice.

“Yes?”

“I don’t like limes.”

I looked over my shoulder. Mister Reeves and Lionheart were poring over the manuscript. Taking Jericho’s drink from his hand, I polished it off then handed it back to him. He was right. The tart limes had overpowered the cherries. Bless Mister Reeves, at least he had tried.

I sipped my brandy once more, washing out the tart taste.

“Thank you,” Jericho said with a whisper.

“You were right. That was awful,” I said with a grin.

Jericho giggled.

I wrapped my arm around his waist and hugged him close to me. I felt the press of his small body against mine. It filled me with warmth and peace, my nerves suddenly calming. “Of course.”

“Master Reeves, dinner for your guests, sir,” Franklin called from the door.

“Very good,” Master Reeves called. “Shall we?”

I rose, and with Jericho’s hand in mine, we turned and headed to the dining room.