The Catarbie Conspiracy

By Sabrina deSouza

Science, fantasy, mystery, faith & humour combine for an action-packed read in The Catarbie Conspiracy
In this first novel in the Houkura Series, author Sabrina deSouza takes readers on a fascinating trip to an alien planet where magic, conspiracy and a mysterious illness intertwine to create a moral dilemma for the book's main characters.

As the book opens, 17-year-old Tarheen, the protagonist in this sci-fi adventure, is at home with his mother. But his desire to explore the extent of his magic abilities leads him to an encounter with a travelling magi -- and to serious consequences that are more than a teenager can handle.

Meanwhile, three strangers who meet in a small Australian town are suddenly transported to another world called Houkura where they, too, have magical gifts. When a mysterious illness, called Catarbie, strikes one of the trio's new friends, they find themselves torn between trying to find their way back to Earth or staying on Houkura to help find a cure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sabrina deSouza
• Release date: Apr 6, 2015
• ISBN: 9780980509038

Sabrina deSouza

Sabrina deSouza was born in Dandenong, Victoria, Australia, grew up in Darwin, Northern Territory, and moved to Canberra, in the Australian Capital Territory before relocating to Queensland. She holds a Bachelor of Science degree, as well as an Honours Degree in Science. deSouza spent nine years as an Australian Customs Officer, the last seven of which were spent as an intelligence analyst. After deciding to leave government and join private industry, she went to work as a consultant and the principal trainer with Visual Analysis in Canberra before leaving to start her own consultancy business, Q3i2 in Queensland.

Book preview

Prologue

The courage to see the light of truth;

The wisdom to understand the pain;

The gentle but mighty hand;

The power to feel with compassion;

The strength to share with humility;

The faith to shield with love;

And bring peace to a troubled land.

I’m going up to the cabin tonight, the dark-haired youth announced suddenly from the table, packing some cheese into a bag.

Why? What’s wrong? the black-haired woman asked. Concerned, she turned away from the pestle in front of her on the work table.

There’s nothing wrong. Zoltan said he was going to test me on some things. He continued packing, putting some bread away.

Why can’t you do it here? Krysta asked, anxiety building in her face.

Because he wants some privacy. The Guild of Magi doesn’t just accept trainees in the village square, you know. Besides, he doesn’t want you cursing him while he’s around. I suggested the cabin. He’s going to meet me there tomorrow.

Zoltan is up to no good. Why can’t you see what he’s doing?

You can’t stop yourself, can you? Tarheen turned toward her so suddenly that the chair beside him rocked. Putting his hand up as if to ward her off, the teenager said, Just leave me alone, old woman! I’m going now. Storming toward the front door, he picked up a bag that was beside it. He put the bag of supplies into it and opened the door. Turning, he faced Krysta. You don’t know him at all.

I know him better than you think. I’ve seen him—

In your dreams again? It’s all rubbish. I don’t want to listen to you speak of him in this way anymore. I’m an adult now. I’m going. Don’t interfere, he threw over his shoulder as he walked out.

Tarheen, wait! Krysta called as she followed her son out. With resignation, she looked on as she watched him ignore her and walk up the mountain trail toward the cabin. He had only seen seventeen winters, but she had brought him up alone for the last twelve. Until Zoltan showed up a month ago, she had taught him everything she knew about herbal lore, healing, and survival. He had heeded her advice on everything before. Now it was all she could do to get his attention. And now he was calling her "Woman". She could feel her indignation rise at his audacity. She suspected that Zoltan was filling his mind with mystical mumbo-jumbo and fanciful ideas.

If only she could tell him the truth about Zoltan. But she knew it would only lead to heartache for everyone.

The dreams about Zoltan in the other lands were confusing. Krysta believed that he was linked somehow to the problems that had started there. And now, the weather here had started freezing in spots and people were dying of frostbite in the middle of summer.

Oh! What kind of a healer am I, when I can’t even help my son? she cried as she walked back inside and shut the door. She made her way to her bed as the tears she’d kept back fell freely. Sinking to her bed, she held her head in her hands and wept. The exhaustion of holding back her anger at Zoltan for the last month finally took its toll as she fell back slowly onto the bed.

By the light, if only there was someone who could see what’s gone wrong. She cried softly as her eyes started to close. I need someone who could grab hold of it, she moaned and covered her eyes with her hands. Someone who can understand what’s happening, she mumbled as she dropped her left hand to her chest. If only they could fix what’s wrong. Maybe then everything would be in its proper place, she whispered as she fell into a deep sleep.

Her body felt light suddenly, as if she was floating and at peace, and then she was asleep.

In a tree outside the cottage, a small brown bird stopped harassing a worm for a moment; its attention caught by a golden glow that could be seen through the cracks of the doors and windows before the light winked out as quickly as it appeared.

1. Marjory House

Turning off the engine, Danika looked at her watch and noticed that it was only a quarter to noon. She reached over to the passenger seat and checked to be sure she had everything she needed in her backpack.

Blueprint. Measuring tape, paint cards, carpet sample, light specs. Sketch pad, pencil box. Gloves, torch. That’s everything. Picking up the plastic shopping bag from the seat with her water bottle, sandwich, fruit, and muesli bar, she put it in the front of the backpack and zipped everything up before opening the car door. Getting out, she grabbed the backpack and her cap and checked that she had her keys for the car and the house. Looking around, she closed and locked the car. She swung her backpack over her shoulder and stood across from the park where she could see the house at a distance.

In its prime, Marjory House would have made a majestic impression. It stood two stories high, facing the park, with the forest reserve behind serving as a backdrop. It was a rectangular U-shape, and had originally hosted a glass atrium in the west wing. A five-foot ornate iron gate enclosed the house, without detracting from the overall affect.

For the last five years, the gates had rusted ajar, allowing people to enter, but preventing vehicle access. Since the fire, no one had bothered to fix anything while the Public Trustee figured out who owned the property. It had taken over four years. The agents had assured her that the current owner would be able to fix the major problems as a condition of sale, but she, as the new owner, would have to restore it to its original condition. As an architect involved in restoring old homes, Danika had no problem with the conditions, but before committing her resources, she had negotiated with the agents to have another look at the place today, without the agent being present, less of a problem than usual since the house hadn’t been locked since the fire.

Now, walking across the park’s mowed lawns, Danika reflected that the half-burned shell of the house would be more than a good investment as the Dartona Council had notified the public a week ago that a bypass was going to be constructed near Marjory House and property values would sky rocket. She walked past the stone fountain and noticed that it was still trickling. Reaching the gates, she walked through the gap and up the paved driveway, which curved slowly so that it came past the atrium and alongside the front entrance of the house. It continued around so that it met up at the gate again, like a huge fat drop.

Danika walked up the short stairs to the front door and opened it. Entering the house, she closed the door behind her, took off her sunglasses and stood for a moment looking at the foyer. There had been minimal smoke and no fire damage in the centre and east wings. The west wing was another matter. The fire had apparently started in the atrium, and luckily the firemen had gotten to the house in time to contain the fire there.

Putting her sunglasses away in the front compartment of her bag, she turned to the staircase. As she walked up to the second floor, she tested her weight on the staircase to make sure it was still secure. As she reached the top landing, her mobile phone vibrated at her hip, making her jump slightly. Reaching for the ear phones, she put them on before answering.

Hello?

Hi, have you made a decision on the house yet?

Oh, hi, Dave. I’m about ninety-percent committed. Did you have a look at my proposal?

It looks okay on paper, but I want to know what you really think. Call me superstitious.

Well, as you know from the proposal, the main structure is fine. I just have to rebuild the floor and ceiling on the second floor and rewire and update the plumbing. The only real problem is the roof. It was gutted so much from the fire, I’d have to start from scratch. But considering the asking price, it’s practically dirt cheap.

Well, you’re the architect; if you think it’s a good investment with minimal outlay, I’ll believe you; you haven’t been wrong yet. I understand that it would need a new paint job. The current ash colour just doesn’t seem to be ‘in’ any more.

Hmm. You think so?

Seriously, Danika. What about all the smoke and water damage? It’s been five years since the place was burned. Who knows what kind of animals may be living there now.

Dave, you know the clean-up crew’ll scare off any animals if they’re there. And there was only minimal smoke damage in the east wing. The atrium suffered the most damage, which is why I’ll need to replace the floor and ceilings there, Danika replied, heading toward the bedrooms in the east wing. Otherwise, it just needs a cleanup and paint job.

And a new smoke alarm system. It still seems like a bit of work for such an old place. I still can’t believe how you heard of this house in the first place. It’s so out of the way, no one’s even heard of the town of Dartona, let alone Marjory House.

I’m not sure. I was just looking for a new project, and found a picture of the place for sale in the classifieds. There’s just something about it. Anyway, according to the surveyor’s report, it should be fairly easy to preserve the original design with modern materials, she said, back to business.

Okay, okay. You don’t have to go on anymore. You’ve sold me, already. I mean, what would I know: you’re the architect; I’m just your solicitor. Ha, ha. Let me know when you want to proceed with the sale.

I think you can go ahead now. I’m just going to go over the rooms one more time to check it out again.

All right, then. I’ll start drawing up the papers and contact the owners with a final bid. See you tomorrow.

’Bye.

Hanging up the mobile, Danika headed toward the bedrooms at the end of the wing. Geez, he really likes to talk sometimes. I wonder if he just likes talking all the time? Maybe it’s just me. Or maybe I’m just imagining things. I wish he’d show a bit more interest in me, though and not just business all the time.

The glass windows had been broken on the second floor by vandals over the last five years, but the floor boards were generally sound.

Entering the last bedroom, she pulled out the blueprints from the backpack and stood for a moment comparing the dimensions with the paper. Putting the paperwork away in her backpack, she removed her gloves before slinging the backpack over her black, all-weather jacket and, feeling a draft, she zipped it up. Slowly, she walked with her left hand running along the walls, inspecting them for cracks and warped timber. Her right foot went through the floorboard in the last bedroom, at the northeast corner. Pulling her foot out, she looked into the hole.

Well, what have we here?

Inside the hole was an unpainted metal box about the size of a shoe box. Curious now, she pulled the rotted timber away and reached in and pulled out the box. Kneeling down in front of the hole, she noticed that the box wasn’t damaged or marked in any way to indicate what was inside. A simple latch held the lid firmly down. Opening the lid, she found a pile of baseball cards, a pocket knife, and a yoyo.

Looks like a boy’s treasure box; maybe it belonged to the boy who slept in this room.

Pulling out the cards, she noticed a small rag doll with a ceramic head, hands and feet. It was like one of those collector’s dolls. The doll’s dress was still clean, as if it had just come out of the packaging.

Well, either this boy was into girls’ dolls, or it belonged to someone else. I guess I better give this to the owners; they may want to keep it.

Putting everything back in the box the way she’d found it, she closed the box and put it in her backpack. Dusting off her gloves, she inspected her hiking boots for any punctures.

Good thing I wore the boots today.

Still kneeling, she surveyed the hole in the room.

Good place to hide things from mum and dad. Let’s hope that’s the only hiding place. I don’t fancy putting my foot in another hole.

As she resumed her inspection of the walls and floor carefully, she heard a strange, high-pitched cry, and then a man’s voice cursing.

What was that? she wondered out loud, looking for the source of the noises.

Turning toward the open westward windowpane facing the atrium, she was suddenly blinded by a bright yellow light.

Hey Robb, I dropped off that inspection report on the old Marjory House on your desk. Why do you want it, anyway?

I’m doing an assignment for the Arson Inspector’s course, and thought I’d use it as a case study, Robb answered as he finished changing out of his fireman’s uniform and into some sweats, T-shirt and joggers. He had only returned to Dartona four years ago, after he’d heard through the family grapevine that the local fire station had a vacancy. After being away for almost a decade in Sydney it felt good to be back in a small town, with people he knew.

Are you still doing that? I thought you’d have finished it by now. You’re leaving it a bit late to start if you have to do your exam in a couple of weeks. Jim asked as he walked over to where Robb was changing in the men’s locker room.

This isn’t for the exam. It’s part of a new assignment that’s due in a month. Robb took out his rucksack and placed his dirty uniform and still-full lunch container in it. Taking his jacket out, he slung it over his arm before closing his locker and heading for the water bubbler. Thanks for letting me know about the file. I’ll get it back to you next shift, Robb added as he filled up his water bottle.

No worries, Robb. Hey, are you still jogging home?

Yeah, my car still won’t start, and this way is fitter.

You only live five minutes away; how much fitter can you get in that time?

I’m going to go past Marjory House and through the park before doubling back. It should take about half an hour.

Well, I reckon you’ll need to do two laps after you wolfed down all that morning tea. Besides, I thought men weren’t supposed to like quiche.

"They were vol-au-vents, not quiche. And you were the one who wolfed down all the cakes. Next time Jenny makes you bring in a surprise morning tea like that, tell me next time, so that I don’t bring in my lunch." Walking over to his desk, he picked up the yellow envelope with his name on it. Propping the rucksack up, he put his filled water bottle into it, together with the envelope, and then his jacket on top of the bottle. His baseball cap was sitting on the table near the phone. Putting it on his head, he zipped up the rucksack, slung it over his shoulder and walked over to Jim, who was now standing at the front counter.

You know, one of these days, I might just make you run with me. Jenny will thank me for it afterward.

My sister loves me just the way I am, thank you very much. Now be off with you, before we get another call about a cat up a tree.

I’m out of here, Robb answered with mock horror, backing towards the front door.

Serves you right for being the only firie from the Dartona Fire Department who can talk an animal out of a tree! Jim called out at Robb’s retreating back. As the door closed after Robb, Jim said to the air, Darned if I don’t know why they like him so much, when he doesn’t like them. Watching Robb through the glazed windows he pondered Wonder what Jenny sees in him? Oh well. It’s her business and he’s a good enough bloke. I guess he’s good enough for her.

Outside, Robb walked out to the wooden seat under the tree, slung his rucksack on the seat and started his warm-up stretches. After a few minutes, he pulled out his iPod from the front of the rucksack and put his earplugs in. He turned on the iPod and selected a track before putting it back into the rucksack. As the Eagles started playing, he slung both straps of the rucksack over his arms and began his jog to Marjory House. The house was only five minutes away by car from the station if you took the direct route, but he was car-less. He felt the beginning of a stitch starting in his abdomen after jogging the scenic route down the main street and past the supermarket and shopping area.

Robb reflected that there hadn’t been a lot of change since the old house burnt down. The town clock was showing a quarter to twelve as he jogged past. The Italian Bakery was on the corner next to the supermarket, and the video store. Next door, the variety come antique store was still open after all these years. He hadn’t seen a lot of customers go in there, but old man Greenwood must have done some good deals to be in business for twenty years.

Coming around a corner, he could see the local high school ahead on the other side of the road. Since it was only a quarter to twelve in the morning, everyone was still inside, except for the sports class who were practicing some volleyball. Robb could just see the park ahead. As he reached the edge of the park he slowed to a walk to recover from the pain of the stitch.

"Okay, I pigged out too much on Jenny’s vol-au-vents," he said to himself, holding his side in a futile attempt to ease the stitch.

Getting closer to the house, he looked at the damage the fire had caused. Black scorch marks were still visible on the walls and glass remains in the west wing. The east wing had a few broken window panes.

He stopped walking as he neared the stone fountain, and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his right hand. To his left, he suddenly heard a high-pitched cry. Turning toward the noise, he saw a black-and-white cat streak toward him and felt it run through his spread legs. Twisting to get away from the cat, he tripped and stumbled toward the fountain and cursed out loudly.

Holding his arms out to brace himself, he grabbed the stone basin with his right hand. Almost pin wheeling as his left hand went into the water, he closed his eyes involuntarily and felt a sudden shock go through his hands. In the distance, the town clock struck twelve.

Marjory House

Finn. Thanks for coming in on your holiday. I wondered if you could do me a favour, the elderly gentlemen announced a little brusquely, as he pointed to a spare chair before seating himself at his desk. He played with a plaque that said Dartona Herald: Matthew Logan. Editor In Chief while he waited for Finn’s reaction.

A favour, huh? Go on, Finn said. Intrigued, he sat down across from his friend and editor at the paper; it wasn’t often Matt asked him for a favour.

I know you’re on holiday for a month, but I also know you’re a workaholic. I was wondering if you could do a story on the Marjory House fire for us.

I thought we did one five years ago.

Well, you know we’re coming up to the town’s centenary celebration, and we’ve been asked to do a special edition on the various landmarks around here for next month’s issue. I want you to do one on the fire.

That’s it? Why can’t Jeremy do it? Finn asked, puzzled. It’s well within his capabilities.

He’s doing another piece.

What on? Finn asked, starting to feel wary.

He’s going to do a piece on the new Citizen of the Year.

So who is it? Knowing that Matt was never evasive unless he knew he was delivering bad news, Finn braced himself for the answer.

Rudolph Greenwood.

What! That dirt bag?

The council selected him because of all the work he’s done with the community for the last five years, Matt said, ignoring Finn’s outburst. In fact, he’s the one who helped raise the funds for the upgrade on the new fire station. Besides, it’s not up to us to decide who gets the award.

That’s crap and you know it, Finn answered back. He leaned forward and continued, You know, I’ve come up with some interesting information on Greenwood that could—

Oh not that again. Look, I know you have some kind of vendetta against Greenwood. What I don’t know is why.

I can’t explain it, but he just sets my teeth on edge. I mean, he’s owned that variety antique shop for almost twenty years, and he doesn’t seem to sell much of anything, and yet he’s still open. Something’s just not right with him.

Work on that in your own time. Right now, I want you to do the piece on the house and only the house. Got it, O’Connell?

Hmm. Maybe I can find a way to get it in the piece. Then it would just be a part of the story and he wouldn’t be able to stop it. Yeah right, Finn. Who do you think you’re kidding? The only way you could work that into the story would be if you were on another planet. Finn eyed Matt for a few moments, before he answered grudgingly, Fine. When do you want it by?

You have three weeks. I’ve got Sarah doing something on the founders and Colin is interviewing and copying some pictures from the old fogies. I took the liberty of getting Mary to grab all the previous articles on the house and the fire. Knowing how much you’re into technology, she even downloaded it onto a disc. Wasn’t that thoughtful of her? Matt teased, knowing Mary had a huge crush on Finn and was trying any which way to get Finn to notice her. Seeing Finn squirm as he mentioned Mary, he wondered if it hadn’t already worked.

Yes, well, I guess it’s practically finished then, right? Finn replied sarcastically, slightly red in the ears.

Practically. Look, this is a special edition that shouldn’t cut too deeply into your time off. I just thought it might ease your addiction to your laptop. I’m surprised you didn’t bring it with you.

Ha, ha, very funny. Finn had a sudden urge to feel his breast pocket where his new electronic notepad resided, but he didn’t want to add to his reputation as a workaholic and computer junkie and just managed to restrain himself from giving himself away. If that’s all, I’ll go and pick it up and be on my way, he said as he stood up to leave.

Yeah, that’s all. What were you going to do on your time off, anyway? Matt asked, getting up and walking Finn to the door.

I’m going fishing. In fact, I was on my way out to the cabins when you rang.

Well, good luck, then, Matt said, clapping Finn on the shoulder and closing the door, his mind already on something else.

Finn walked slowly and cautiously over to Mary’s desk. The attractive thirty-year-old redhead always seemed to be eyeing Finn, like a lioness eyeing her mate. It was a bit unnerving to be intimidated by a woman who wasn’t even wearing revealing clothes. As he neared her desk, Mary looked up with a small smile on her face and handed over the envelope, all without saying anything, which was even more unnerving.

Uh, thanks, Mary. Finn coughed as he reached over and grabbed the envelope.

No problem, Finn, she replied, still holding onto the envelope. Since you’re still technically on leave, what about you and me getting to know each other on a more social level? she asked, keeping her hold on the envelope.

Short of having a tug-of-war, Finn answered in a rush, Sorry, no can do. I’m going fishing as of half an hour ago, and I have to get up to the fishing cabins. You know, no electricity, no toilet, fishing, mossies, bugs, animals . . . He trailed off, exaggerating as much as he could without trying to look desperate to leave.

It must have worked, as her shoulders slumped. Letting go of the envelope suddenly, she said, Oh. Well. See you around, then. Disappointment was clearly visible in her eyes.

Taking hold of the envelope with two hands, Finn walked backwards, saying, Thanks for this. See you next month.

Turning around, he walked to the door as if his life depended on it and once outside, took in a huge breath of fresh air. Inside, Mary propped her head on her left hand and watched Finn through the glass doors. If he turns around, I’ll know he’s interested, she murmured to herself.

Outside, Finn breathed out, Thank you God, and stood for a moment wondering why he could never pluck up the nerve to ask her out. For all of his thirty-three years, Mary was the only woman who’d made him feel so unsettled and found himself thinking of her regularly. I wonder if she’s really interested in me, he thought, and turned to look back at her through the glass door.

Seeing him turn and look at her, she gave a lopsided smile. Waving goodbye to him, she turned back to her computer. Yep, definitely the one for me, she said and continued with her work.

For the first time, Finn felt more self-assured looking at Mary. When I get back, I think I might just take her out to dinner. Walking to his car, he thought about what Matt had said about his addiction. He was right, as usual. He was addicted to his work, which was why he wasn’t married – or involved with anyone. Of course that made him think of Mary – again. I think she’s getting under my skin. Good thing I’ve got a bit of work to do now to distract me while I’m at the cabin. Thinking about the house, he thought he’d go and have a look at the place, and get a feel for it, before he started writing the story about it.

He got in his car, put his seat belt on and started the engine. As he started driving to Marjory House, he recalled that he’d been working as a freelancer in another state at the time of the fire, covering the theft of a jewellery heist. They had identified the thief, but hadn’t recovered the actual jewels. They only managed to catch the perp when he returned to the scene of the crime.

He turned off the engine when he got to the Forest Reserve car park. Looking at his sports bag on the seat next to him, he recalled that along with a spare set of clothes, a fishing reel, an aluminium mag light and a first aid kit, he also had a bag of groceries in the back seat. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was on the way to the cabin. He’d packed his car that morning with everything he thought he’d need. Now, thinking that he might be a while in the house, and that the food might spoil in the car, he repacked the sports bag to include the perishable food, grabbed his fishing hat, and got out of the car, hauling the sports bag over his right shoulder. Closing the car, he looked at the back seat and made sure that the dry supplies and the rest of his gear was covered with the tarp and out of the sun.