The Crystal Entanglement: Blank Magic, #2

By J Molyneux

Can a pile of crystals be evil? They can, especially if they are possessed by the soul of a malevolent witch bent on destruction and revenge on the living. When they become the property of a mad aristocrat the capital becomes the domain of a monster who consumes the souls of both men and wizards; but wizards are tastier.

The Blank Magic books are set in an alternate reality where magic works.Set in WW2; the Nazi high command has set up a division of the SS to wage clandestine magical warfare against the allies. Britain is forced to respond with its own magical forces; helped along by a small cast of characters who populate the fringes where the normal and magical worlds meet.

The book is approximately 192,000 words

• Language: English
• Publisher: john molyneux
• Release date: Jun 23, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386941705

Book preview

Ch 1: Aftermath

Wren officer Lucie Chasen of the Fleet Thaumaturgical Auxiliary sat bolt-upright in her bed. She’d gone from a deep sleep to wide awake in a split second. She’d been dreaming about flying on her broom. Suddenly the broom had disappeared and she was falling. The ground rushed up towards her and, just before impact, she’d woken up. Just a silly dream, or was it? She knew instinctively that something was wrong, very wrong, and it had nothing to do with her nightmare.

Glancing at the clock told her that she’d only been asleep a half hour or so. She reached for her clothes and within a couple of minutes she was dressed in her uniform and leaving her barracks.

To hell with magical restrictions, she told herself. Then she found a secluded corner under some trees where she could use her power to magically travel towards the disturbance that she’d sensed.

Instant magical transport wasn’t an easy thing. It involved focussing the mind and using her magic to move her body into the empty spaces that existed between anywhere and nowhere. The process was difficult because the spaces continually twisted and turned and it was easy for bits of the body to become separated. The trick was to keep hold of them all with your mind and then bring them all back together at a different spot. Not every wizard could do it and even those that could, couldn’t travel too far.

A second passed and then she felt her mind frantically pulling herself together again. An old saying; ‘Spread yourself too thin and you’ll come back as a ghost’ came to mind and she shuddered at the chilling thought. She realised she was re-forming too soon and instinctively she fought to retain her concentration as she emerged back into reality. Her stomach rebelled as some parts of her anatomy tried to catch up with other parts and she nearly threw up.

She’d arrived in the middle of a bomb site and she stumbled and fell awkwardly, twisting her ankle. A second’s concentration took care of the pain and she straightened. This wasn’t where she’d intended to be. The air was full of a fine grey dust. She could see nothing in front of her but she could sense some sort of wrongness just ahead. It had thrown her concentration and caused her to coalesce early. She looked around to check that the coast was clear and then she illuminated the tip of her finger and held it aloft to try to see any sign that what she’d sensed was there.

Lucie took a few steps forward and the light went out. God, she thought, I must be getting jumpy if I can’t sustain a simple torchlight. She concentrated on her finger again and nothing happened. When nothing happened on her third attempt she grew suspicious and stepped back towards the place where she’d arrived. The finger lit of its own accord after two paces. Lucie stepped forward again and it went out. She did a ridiculous hokey-cokey dance and each time she stepped forward the fingertip extinguished and each time she stepped back it illuminated again.

There seemed to be some sort of line here. On one side the magic worked, on the other it didn’t. It was puzzling.

The dust was settling and she grew more aware of her surroundings. She was in the midst of a scene of utter devastation. Bells were clanging and whistles sounding. She’d seen air raids up close and this one looked pretty bad. Ghostly figures moved amongst the dust and smoke. Police, soldiers, ambulance men and women moved about in ones and twos, all with grim faces and determined expressions. She overheard a policeman say to another man in a grey uniform. This is a bad one sarge. She’d assumed that the second man was light rescue, who wore grey overalls, but he wasn’t; he was police. His regular midnight blue police uniform was covered in a fine grey dust that seemed to suck in the light.

I thought the raids were over for the night, said the sergeant.

Yes, I thought so as well. But this was no gas explosion. See how all the damage radiates from one spot about two hundred yards that way. said his colleague. He nodded over his shoulder towards the epicentre of the damage.

Lucie shrank back into the shadows then stopped. Forcing down her automatic response to hide in the presence of normals she stepped forwards again. She was military and had every right to be there. Switching herself into full officer mode she marched out into plain view.

The two policemen noticed her and, in particular, her clean uniform; obviously an officer. A pretty woman in a situation like this was either a casualty or some sort of brass. The expression on her face said that she wasn’t a casualty.

Better look sharp, one of them whispered officer approaching. The other nodded his agreement.

Do we know what happened here sergeant? she asked.

No ma’am, he replied there were no air raid warnings. We thought it might be a gas explosion but the sappers say that it was too concentrated and too powerful. They think it might have been an UXB. They’re checking the area for any more.

Yes, that would explain it, Lucie said , What about casualties?

We’re not too sure at present. The theatre was nearly full and the sappers think that the explosion was underneath the floor of the auditorium. The whole thing collapsed. We reckon there were at least twenty killed and another thirty or forty injured. A bad show ma’am, the sergeant replied.

Quite, sergeant. Any sign of fifth column activity, anything suspicious? she asked.

The sergeant suddenly realised that the woman was probably something to do with espionage, a spy catcher. That explained the military and the cold official manner.

Not that I can tell ma’am. We haven’t really started looking yet, the casualties you know... he trailed off.

I understand. Lucie snapped, it didn’t sound as if she understood at all. She was angry. Angry at whoever did this, because, despite the unexploded bomb excuse, there was too much magic involved for it to be anything other than a continuation of the wizard murders she’d been investigating. Angry because she wasn’t allowed to wave her hand and magically get the injured out of there and to safety. Angry because she hadn’t heard from Hawksmere. It showed in her voice and the sergeant got the full force of her glare. He visibly shrank away.

Lucie realised almost immediately and said in a much more conciliatory tone I’m sorry sergeant. I didn’t mean to sound callous but you see we suspect that this isn’t just an accident. Keep that under your hat by the way. Loose talk and all that.

The sergeant looked back at the woman and said Of course ma’am I understand. Thank you for trusting me and don’t worry, I won’t say a thing. I’ll keep my eyes peeled for anything suspicious.

Thank you sergeant, if you do see or hear anything let me know at the Navy office. I am First Officer Chasen. She replied knowing that it was an empty gesture. He probably wouldn’t see anything and she’d taken him into her confidence more out of a need to have a cover story for her presence. However, you never knew what might be important, the normal girl, Hawksmere’s ‘friend’, had said that. At least, if anyone started asking awkward questions, she would get to know.

As for the mysterious no magic area, it was her first tangible clue. If someone could create such an area then that would explain why the automatic protection hadn’t worked for the murdered wizards. This was a different order of effect than that of the magic nullifying bullets...a magic nullifying bomb. She shuddered at the thought.

Lucie was about to walk back towards the area when she was distracted by the sight of two ambulance men who had emerged from the dust and fog carrying a stretcher.

One said to the other, This one looks like one of the actors, see, he’s still got his costume on.

Well he won’t be performing for quite a while he’s really bashed up, and the flames have got his hair and beard, the other replied.

Lucie looked at the figure on the stretcher. It was wearing familiar Edwardian clothes so she looked closer. The face was covered in black soot and the flash burn had removed most of the hair, but she could see it was Hawksmere.

Lucie followed the ambulance men. They were taking Hawksmere towards an ambulance which was parked well away from the tyre slashing rubble. As they passed a half demolished wall she looked around and then said You there. The men turned and she marched up to them. She held up a piece of paper that she’d taken out of her pocket. Look at this? she waved the paper in front of her face and the two men locked eyes with her. Seconds later they were under her control and they obediently walked behind the wall still carrying their burden. Lucie followed and told the men to put the stretcher down and to sit down against the wall. She then took out her feuille. This she kept in a small wooden box. The feuille was a copper coloured leaf suspended on a silken thread. The leaf was one of tens of thousands which grew on an ancient, magical beech tree. The wizards who tended the tree would allow a witch or wizard to buy one of the leaves and then they would take a drop of the witch’s or wizard’s blood and bind the leaf and the blood in a coating of copper metal. This was then threaded onto a silken chord. Lucie twisted the silk into a complex cat’s cradle with her fingers so that the leaf was suspended in her cupped palm. She spoke into it. Rufus Antonius Beresford, I hail thee. A few seconds later she heard a man’s voice coming from the gently vibrating leaf. Rufus Beresford here.

Rufus, this is Lucie. I’m at the scene of another incident. This one’s bad. There are normals involved. Hawksmere has been injured and needs transporting to the temple straight away. Get the others and meet me. Do not attempt to arrive directly here, there is a portal stone about fifty yards to the South. It is Crimson Black Gold. I’ll meet you there. This is important, there is some sort of residual anti-magic nearby. Do not attempt to come direct.

She waited. In about twenty seconds she felt a series of disturbances in the air as, one by one, her colleagues materialised at the designated spot. She waved to them and they quickly came over and examined Hawksmere. What happened to him? one asked.

I don’t know but we have to get him to the healers straight away. They were going to take him to a hospital, she said. They all shuddered.

We’ll take him, one said, are you coming along?

No I’m going to try to see if anyone else is involved. Of course she meant wizards. She scolded herself mentally. It wasn’t as if the normals didn’t matter, one of her best friends was the daughter of a normal, it was just that this was a wizard problem and the normals would only get in the way.

The four wizards, each holding onto one corner of the stretcher, vanished into the dust and haze. The two ambulance men sat where they’d been told and looked at what was happening with blank expressions. Forget she said in the golden hued voice she used when she was using mesmerism. The two men came out of their zombie state and looked around. Mustn’t let them start to wonder. Lucie thought. Out loud she said And what do we have here, thought you’d sneak off for a quiet smoke did you? Well there’s people injured out there. So get out there and help.

The two men looked around, they vaguely remembered having a stretcher but they couldn’t see it and there was this fierce military type shouting at them. They hadn’t been hiding, they were sure that they’d been helping so they protested.

I don’t want any excuses Lucie raged, Now get back to work.

There was no argument, the men left, protesting their innocence but completely helpless against the broadside from this sleek female battleship.

Lucie turned and tried to head back towards the barrier sure that it was significant. She hadn’t gone more than a few yards when a male voice called behind her. Oi, you! Where do you think you’re going?

She turned ready to unleash another broadside, but the man who came up to her was wearing the uniform of a captain in the royal engineers; a sapper. I gave orders that this area should be evacuated, and when I say it needs evacuating, it needs evacuating. Get down there with the ambulances; someone thinks that they’ve found another incendiary. She nearly hexed him on the spot but there were now too many other people about. The captain was the current authority figure, all eyes were watching the exchange so she dissembled.

Yes Captain; sorry. Is there anything I can do? she said smartly. At least she could behave as if she really was military, besides, under that dust covered hair was a rather attractive face. The captain looked at the woman, her uniform said she was Navy and the braid said she was an officer but he couldn’t place the insignia. It had the usual fouled anchor but it didn’t have a crown. Instead the anchor lay on some sort of star. He decided it didn’t matter; she was military and an officer.

Yes, there is, as a matter of fact. You look like you can give orders. Go and keep that lot under control. He waved at the knot of policemen and ambulance men, There’s to be no more rescue until we’ve made whatever it is safe. Lucie saluted and marched off. She’d have to put off her investigation for a while.

When the sapper had given the all clear, Lucie returned to the spot, but the barrier or whatever it was wasn’t there any more. She couldn’t tell what else had changed but nothing seemed different. The epicentre of the blast had the tell-tale marks of abnormally intense heat, but everything else was no more than a heap of splinters. There was a twisted metal cage next to the incendiary spot. Most of it was a blackened mess , however, something had protected one side of it from the full blast. Maybe it was her imagination but it looked like the silhouette of someone’s body.

After an hour of fruitless searching she gave up and made her way to the healers’ temple to check on Hawksmere.

Ch 2: Where did the Magic go?

Even as she stepped across the threshold she could sense that there’d been a lot of activity.  In the centre of the atrium there was a witch at a desk; she went over. I’m looking for Jack Hawksmere. He should have been brought in about an hour ago. He was caught in an explosion.

The witch looked up, I’m not sure where they would have put him, accidents and injuries is full. There’s been a constant stream of casualties and they all involve magic going wrong. One man was levitating down a lift shaft to avoid having to climb the stairs and the next thing he knew he was at the bottom with a broken leg and a broken arm. It was fortunate that he was only on the first floor. It could have been very nasty if he’d been at the top. A witch was making dinner for her family and just moving the soup onto the table when it dropped. She was badly scalded and I don’t know when we’ve had so many broomstick accidents. She rattled on, not allowing Lucie any chance to say a word. Mind you, some of them were the patient’s own fault. Imagine trying to clear out your earwax with a knitting needle using magic. Well it would serve him right if they never got the thing out of his ear. It’s a pity he didn’t have more brains, the needle might not have gone in so far. And don’t get me started on the people who’ve come in complaining of headaches. Use a little essence of willow I tell them. Don’t they know their basic herb lore?

The receptionist droned on with more tales of magical misfortune, but Lucie was thinking of the bomb site. What if all these accidents were linked? What if her nightmare and sudden awakening, and the peculiar place where her magic didn’t work, were what was left over from a more general disruption in magic?

She interrupted the receptionist. Excuse me but when did all these accidents happen?

They were all last night she replied.

I mean do you have the times when they happened? Lucie snapped in her best commander’s voice. The receptionist looked ready to rebel but thought better of it.

No, we don’t tend to look at clocks when healing needs performing, but you could ask the ones that are still here. she hesitated, took one look at Lucie’s glare and then added, Most of them are still queuing in the accidents and injuries department; it’s on the first floor.

Thank You, Lucie replied angrily.

She went up to the first floor and saw a queue of about fifteen wizards and witches, five of them were wearing the same kit and looked to be some sort of sports team so she started with them.

You all look as if you’ve had a fall, she stated as they looked up.

Yes, said the short stocky man who appeared to be in charge of the group. We were doing a spot of late night practice ready for Saturday’s game and we’d just taken off for home when all the brooms failed. It’s a good job that we weren’t very high, except for Constance and Jim of course. They’re being seen to at the moment. Constance took a really nasty fall; they say she’ll need to stay in for a couple of days.

You say all the brooms failed at the same time. When was this? Lucie asked.

It must have been about nine thirty, we’d not been out for long and we’d booked the practice pitch until nine fifteen. Why. Is it important? the stocky wizard replied.

It might be, thank you, I need to ask the other patients something. Good luck with your match, Lucie said.

The wizard replied with a grumble, Don’t expect we’ll play. What with so many injuries,

Lucie moved on to the other patients. Apart from one who had leaves growing out of her ears, the result of a headache potion going wrong, all of the accidents had happened at about the same time. Her theory about a general magical disruption was looking more and more likely. Maybe something had happened in the explosion; if it had been caused by using anti-magic weapons then maybe it had broadcast anti-magic throughout London. That would explain why she’d not been able to detect it when she’d gone back. The effect must have shrunk further. It was probably gone altogether by now. She should really go back and check again, but just at the minute she wanted to see how Hawksmere was. The woman in the atrium was dealing with another casualty so she waited. Her mind tuned out the receptionist’s babble and considered what she knew. A general disruption in magic, caused by enemy action she was certain, that had extended out across London at least as far as the wizard team’s practice ground in Hampstead. She shivered inwardly as her mind took in the implications.

Her speculations were interrupted when the receptionist came over and said, Now, you were asking about a chap in an explosion. I remember that he was in a bad way when they brought him in. Well, I think they put him in one of the wards on the top floor. Try the Paracelsus ward.

Lucie said her thanks and went over to the lifts. Then she had second thoughts: what if it happened again? She didn’t want to be plunged to her death by a malfunctioning magic lift. Besides, she told herself, I need the exercise. So, feeling a little foolish, she went across to the stairs and began to climb the steps two at a time.

When she arrived at the door of the Paracelsus ward and wasn’t even a little out of breath, she felt a little proud of herself. She pushed open the door with a flourish. The sight that greeted her wasn’t what she’d expected. With a normal magical injury, which didn’t involve curses or similar, the patient would at least be conscious. Broken bones were easy to mend. However the group around one of the beds looked grave. It consisted of her four colleagues and a pair of healers.

She went over. Hello Lucie said Jack Tailor, a wizard she’d known for years, The healers can’t understand why they can’t wake him up. There’s a lot of physical damage, broken bones, internal and external bruising and burns; but for some reason they aren’t responding very well to treatment. They think that the unconsciousness is connected, but they are at a loss to find the cause.

Lucie turned towards one of the healers. Suppose those injuries were on a normal. Would you be able to treat them?

Well even normals respond to magical treatment. Of course it’s a lot less effective because the wizard’s own power helps the process, the healer replied. He went silent for a moment as if thinking something through. Now that you mention it. It is as if he’s become a normal. Yes, that would explain a lot...But that’s impossible, I know Jack and he’s one of the most powerful wizards I’ve ever met. Possibly the most powerful. He went silent again for a few moments, Still, what you say has some merit. Maybe we should alter our technique a little.

Ch 3: The Yellow Crystal of Lust.

Alice Turner looked around the ruins of the theatre. It wasn’t the most romantic spot but she thought, As long as I’m with Robin then it doesn’t matter where it is. She looked up into the face of Robin Makepeace. She’d known him all her life. They’d lived in the same street, gone to the same school and played together in all those years between the wars. Now another war had come along and it threatened to take her Robin away. She’d only lately started to think of Robin as something other than a friend. She had strange feelings when he was near and the easy rough and tumble that she’d enjoyed when they were much younger had been replaced by a tantalising withdrawal of the easy physical contact. She watched him as he explored the ruin and wondered if his enlistment would change him. Then she reconsidered, if their friendship had endured sixteen years then surely it would last another sixteen.

Robin Makepeace was uneasy. Life for him was going to change. He’d had his call up paper and he was due to leave for basic training in a few days’ time. He looked back across the rubble to where his friend Alice was sat on a pile of broken masonry. Robin knew that their relationship had changed. He was aware of her as... well, a her. She was a woman and he was a man and they weren’t children any more. Her changing body had brought all sorts of complications into their easy relationship. Curves that had been irrelevant two or three years earlier were now distractingly significant. Of course he knew what girls looked like under their clothes. He’d seen plenty in his older brother’s magazines, although Mark would have skinned him alive if he’d known that Robin had found his secret stash. Mark had failed his call up medical and so had been told to stay at home, but Robin had passed with flying colours. Hence it was Robin, rather than Mark, who would be the first Makepeace of this generation to fight for his country.

His thoughts returned to Alice. He should give her something to remember him by when he was off fighting. Something she could treasure and keep, but, as ever, money was tight and here he was with only a few days left. Then his eyes lit on something glinting from a pile of dust at the bottom of a shallow hole. He climbed down and pulled it out. It was a yellow jewel. In fact it was two yellow jewels that had somehow grown together in the shape of a V. The object glistened in the sunlight when he wiped away the layer of surface dust and he saw flashes of a deeper red from within its structure. It was beautiful. He looked over to Alice. She was leaning back on her arms with her head held up to the sun and her eyes closed. An idea struck him and he reached into his pocket for a piece of string. It was surprisingly easy to secure the jewel to the string and to tie the other ends of the string into a loop. There, he had it, a glittering pendant. A suitable gift for his girlfriend and she’d never forget him for the rest of her life.

He crept over to the oblivious girl and stood up shading her from the sun. She noticed the shade and opened her eyes. Robin smiled at her and crouched down. He had the makeshift pendant in his hands behind his back. She noticed immediately that he was hiding something and she was curious.

Alice, you know I’ll be going away soon and I don’t know when I’ll be back, he said and she nodded, and I’d like you to remember me while I’m away.

She nodded again and said, I couldn’t forget you ever Robin. and she felt that nascent excitement that she always felt when he was this close.

Well I want you to wear this to remember me by, he said and his hand came around from his back clutching the jewel.

She stared at it in fascination. It was a jewel and, for a moment, she thought that it should be mounted on some fancy chain rather than a piece of string. Then she looked at the jewel more closely. It had two points growing from a single base, two points, one for me and one for Robin, she thought. Then a cloud crossed the sun and, in the depths of the jewel she thought that she saw something move darkly. The cloud cleared and the jewel caught the light and sent out red sparks.

Oh Robin, she said, filled with an insistent longing as he placed the pendant around her neck. Robin also felt strange urges stirring and he said Oh, Alice as he let himself pull her to the ground in a passionate kiss.

Robin shook his head trying to dispel the red mist that clouded his vision. The first thing he was aware of was that his trousers had been pulled down around his ankles. He panicked and pulled them on and nearly fell over. Dizziness hit him like a blow as he stood up too fast. He staggered and his foot hit something soft. Robin stared down at the unmoving form of Alice. Her head was at a peculiar angle and her dress was pulled up above her waist. There was blood, lots of it, around her neck, between her legs and over her thighs. He staggered and his hands closed into fists. His left hand felt pain. The jewel that he’d given to Alice a few minutes ago was cutting a deep gash in his palm but he didn’t care. A roar of animal savagery leapt from his throat and the red mist descended again. He ran.

******

Inspector Peasmould looked down at the pathetic rag doll that had once been Alice Turner. Someone with a sense of propriety had covered her with a blanket, but Peasmould’s eyes saw the image of what was underneath. He wondered, for the thousandth time, why anyone would do that to another person, and, for the thousandth time, he came back with the same answer. Some people just enjoyed hurting others. Still his job wasn’t to explain why the killer had done what he’d done. His job was to catch the man and bring him to justice. The girl had been strangled but it hadn’t been a clean death. She’d been raped violently as well. It all pointed to an act of extreme rage. Peasmould uncovered the neck and head again and noticed that the marks on the girl’s neck showed a thin line of oozing crimson blood under the lesser red of the marks of the killer’s hands. There was little doubt that the girl had been wearing some sort of necklace and this had been used as a garrotte until it had broken. Then the killer had finished her off with his bare hands. Fully expecting to find the necklace flung aside somewhere nearby, he re-covered the head and motioned to the two men waiting to take the body away. There was nothing on her body or clothes that identified her. He supposed that, within a day or so, someone would come forward with a story that their daughter hadn’t come home then they might find out who she’d been. The problem was that there were so many missing people these days that it might be days before she was formally identified. That meant that the killer had days to make his escape. Peasmould was sure he’d catch the killer eventually. Paradoxically it was easier now in wartime because of all the different identity checks that were made on people wanting to travel. The killer might try to run but he wouldn’t get far. Peasmould turned from the corpse and made his way down the rubble pile to the road. There was nothing else that he could do until the great machine of justice ground relentlessly to life.

Robin Makepeace had made it as far as his home. Nobody was around; his family were all out on their daily chores. He sat on his bed, naked, his bloodstained clothes in a jumbled pile on the floor, and he stared at the jewel in his palm. It had cut deep and his hand was still weeping blood. His eyes were unfocussed and he was remembering the whiteness of Alice’s face. It had been the jewel, he realised. It had been the jewel that had caused Alice’s death. She’d not wanted to give herself to him, but the jewel had insisted that she was lying. He’d got angry and, well... the rest was a blur. He threw the jewel at the wall but he didn’t hear it bounce off under his bed, all he could hear were Alice’s weak cries, like some pathetic kitten, as he squeezed the life from her.

He knew he should confess, that would be the right thing to do, but he also knew that that way would lead to the hangman. He didn’t want to die; besides it was the jewel that had made him do it. But who would believe him? He suddenly became cunning; he’d report for basic training early. It was only a day or so and he could pretend that he’d misunderstood the orders. Yes, that would get him far away in the fastest possible time. If he kept his nerve then nobody would need to know. Nobody had known that he’d gone out with Alice that morning, in fact he’d played truant from a football training practice to be with her. If he hurried he could meet up with his mates in the boozer and no one need be any the wiser. He changed in double quick time and was out of the door in minutes.

Alice’s mother had died a few years before the war and Alice’s father worked shifts on the docks. When he wasn’t working he was drinking and so it wasn’t unusual for him not to see his daughter for days at a time. When a neighbour enquired why Alice hadn’t been around with his washing he just looked blank. When he noticed that there was nothing to eat in the cupboard and their ration books were still in the same place on the table after two days he began to ask questions. So, it wasn’t until four days after her death that he staggered into the local police station to report his daughter’s disappearance. His description of her was quickly matched to that of the corpse found strangled on the rubble of the old theatre and he was asked to formally identify her a few hours later.

Inspector Peasmould was at the identification and he winced in sympathy as the huge dock worker crumbled to his knees and broke down in tears at the sight. Peasmould now had a name and address. It only took a couple of days talking to the girl’s friends and neighbours before he had a prime suspect; Robin Makepeace. The boy had gone off for basic training only a day or so after the murder and, according to his friends, ‘had been acting queer, all jumpy’ just before he’d left. Enquiries at the war office quickly traced the boy and they showed that he’d been sent to Aldershot to start basic training. Because of his notoriety Peasmould easily convinced the military police that they should arrest the recruit and hold him in custody until Peasmould could arrive.

A few days later Peasmould arrived at the training camp. He’d been surprised at the wrangling that he’d had to do to even get permission to go there. It was as if the lad had gained some special status by being a soldier that made him immune from prosecution by mere civilian justice. Nevertheless the powers that be had seen sense in the end and Peasmould was now waiting outside a small Nissen hut to question his prime suspect.

Private Robin Makepeace knew that he would have to face the inevitable. He’d accepted his doom but he still felt cheated. Didn’t they understand about the jewel? It was the jewel that was evil not him. He looked across at the man who had entered the room. The policeman wasn’t very impressive; either of Robin’s two guards could have flattened the inspector with a single blow. Robin waited until the inspector sat down opposite him. He badly needed a smoke but he couldn’t do anything because of the manacles that kept his hands chained behind his back.

Now Mr Makepeace, the Inspector began. I would like you to tell me about the events of last week, start with your meeting with Alice.

Robin managed the first part,

Alice and me were friends right from the time when we were old enough to walk. My mum and hers were neighbours and they’d go around together and me and Alice went everywhere with them. So it was natural that when we grew up we spent a lot of time together. Both our families reckoned that we’d end up married and I think Alice and me sort of assumed it as well. We’d been out together as boyfriend and girlfriend a few times and we’d done all the usual kissing and stuff.

Peasmould nodded and said, So what happened last week? Robin’s voice became hoarse. I knew that I’d be coming here and I wouldn’t see Alice again for ages. I knew I didn’t want just kissing, I wanted more. So we went down west to the theatre district. She always liked it down there because it was where the posh people went to enjoy themselves. We found a place where an old theatre had been bombed and since it was a lovely day we found a place behind a broken wall where nobody would see us. Alice just wanted to sit and enjoy the sun and so I went off for a bit of an explore.

So you didn’t start out kissing and such straight away? Peasmould asked.

No, like I said, Alice just wanted to sunbathe. Well I was kicking about in the dirt and I found this jewel.

Peasmould noticed that the boy had started to shake but he said nothing.

It was so beautiful and it caught the light and gave off red flashes and I thought how nice it would look around Alice’s neck. So I tied some string onto it to make a necklace like and I took it over to her.

Now the boy was really shaking badly. Can I have a ciggy? Robin asked.

With a nod to the guards the inspector reached into his coat pocket and brought out a packet of Player’s. Robin turned in his seat and one of the guards unlocked the manacle on his right hand. Robin held the cigarette to his mouth and Peasmould offered him a light.

Robin was still shaking but he managed to go on with his story. The jewel was beautiful, it was really two jewels joined together and it was a lovely deep yellow in colour except that it gave off red flashes in the light. It looked lovely around Alice’s neck and it seemed on fire as it glistened on her bosom. I couldn’t stop looking at it. I went to kiss Alice and she kissed me back and we lay down even though the place was full of dust. Then, you know... I got a hard on and she was soft and then I just had to. Then Alice said that it wasn’t right we weren’t married. But the jewel said that she really did want to, and she was lying, and there was red mist everywhere, and...

The boy threw back his head and roared. He stood up and dragged the chair with him as he threw himself across the room at one of the guards. The surprise attack knocked the man down and Robin was on him biting and punching with his one free hand. The other guard drew his side-arm and pointed it at Robin. Robin turned and saw the weapon, but instead of stopping he launched himself like a demon at it. He laughed maniacally as he swallowed the barrel and squeezed the hand holding the gun with his free hand. There was an explosion and blood spattered across Peasmould and the office wall.

Robin’s body sagged back onto the floor and Peasmould saw the twisted smile on the boy’s face. Peasmould knew it wasn’t possible, but he thought he heard a final phrase come from the boy’s lips. It was the jewel.

In his office a week later, Peasmould put the folder containing the details of the case into his filing cabinet under ‘closed’. Even so, the boy’s death whisper still rattled around his brain. Of course to tie things up they’d made a search of the boy’s home and the murder site but no jewel of any description had been found. A sudden chill wind blew through the office and Peasmould pulled up his collar even though the weather outside was fine. He wondered to himself, not for the first time, whether he was just getting too old for the job.

In a pawnbroker's a mile away a spindly man looked through his loupe at the strange gem that the young man had brought him. It was almost flawless but the colour was uneven in its heart. I can give you a tenner for it. That’s my final offer. he said. Mark Makepeace nodded and held out his hand for the money.

Ch 4 : Awake in the Friern

I awoke in hospital. I don’t think that I’d expected to wake and so it was a pleasant surprise; well at least until the pain hit. I felt as though someone had put me into a grinder, there wasn’t one inch of me that didn’t hurt. I lay still and tried to remember what had happened. I’d been in Pickerel’s device and caught a full blast of whatever heinous magic it had been generating. Then I’d been clutching an iron cage with Jack inside it and had been blown through several ceilings and walls. I did remember a glimpsed image of a room crammed with scenery flats as I was blasted through, and then there was another wall which had darkness on the other side.

I couldn’t work out how I’d survived this time, but I had and so I thought that if I made a noise someone would come and explain.

I tried a scream, not a chance, so I settled for a groan. Someone must have been near because she said It’s all right dear, you are in hospital.

I know that, I thought sarcastically. I was glad to see that my sense of the absurd hadn’t been blown away. The voice went on.

You’ve been unconscious for two days and we were afraid that you’d never wake up. But I knew you would despite having nearly every bone in your body broken. You won’t be able to move so don’t try. You’re in a full body cast and you will have to remain in it for a month or so. I’m here to see that you’re turned about regularly to relieve any pressure, but it will be a lot easier if you can tell me what hurts. I’m Samantha by the way, and I’m a volunteer nurse.

This information was delivered in about ten seconds, rapid fire, in a high pitched voice that sounded about twelve years old. However, the sound was faint, as if I was hearing it through layers of felt. I realised that my ears had been affected by the blast as well as everything else.

I wanted to say that I’d guessed where I was and knew where it hurt; everywhere. But that wasn’t important just now. I wanted to find out what had happened to Jack. Instead I just groaned again. The groan had more than a hint of croak and Samantha burst into action again. Oh dear I’m not sure whether I can give you anything to drink. I’ll check. Be right back. There was the sound of rapid footsteps retreating and, after a while, returning. Sister says that you can have water but just a sip and through a straw. I never like drinking through a straw it’s so childish. Oh dear! Not that I’m saying that you’re childish or anything. You’re a special case and it’s quite understandable. Drinking through a straw I mean. she finished.

God, this child is exhausting, I thought to myself; but seconds later I felt a straw pressed between my lips and I sucked cool water into my parched mouth for which I was grateful. Obviously my arrival back into the world wasn’t expected by the professionals as suddenly I sensed the space around me filling with people. Calmer voices than Samantha’s were talking between themselves then one spoke up. Thank you Samantha you can go for a break now. We’ll see to the patient.

Yes Sister, came the slow reply, all enthusiasm squashed out of it. I felt sorry for the girl. Dismissed by the adults and probably just as easily forgotten by them.

I can come back? she said hesitantly.

Of course Samantha, but we have to examine the patient first, the older woman replied.

Oh then I’ll just go for a cup of tea and come back and wait in the nurse’s room until you’ve finished. I won’t be long and you can count on me. The breathless rush was back.

Yes Samantha, you do that, and I heard the sound of rapidly retreating footsteps. Don’t run! The Sister called after her.

I felt my hand being taken and fingers pressed in the space between it and my encastered arm to take my pulse. This seemed to reassure someone and then the Sister’s voice spoke again.

I don’t know how much you can understand or whether you can even hear me, but you’re in the Friern hospital. You were caught in an explosion; we think it must have been an unexploded bomb. You have extensive injuries, both of your arms and both of your legs were broken. You have some broken ribs, but thankfully they haven’t punctured anything vital. You have some broken fingers and foot bones and possibly a small fracture of your skull. Amazingly there are no burns other than on your hands and, for some reason, your ankles. We’re not sure about any other damage there might be to your spine and internal organs, but we’re keeping you immobilised just in case until we get some senior doctors to have a look at you. I’m afraid the bomb killed and injured a lot of people and some of the injured are in a much worse condition than you are. You are very lucky to be alive. The ARP man said he thought that you’d been so near to the actual bomb that you’d been carried along just behind the shock wave and it had blasted walls and things out of its way before you hit them. The sister's voice paused for a couple of seconds, Can you make a noise if you understand what I’m saying?

I groaned.

Good, that’s a relief, we didn’t know if there’d been any damage to your brain. All we can do for the time being is to try to keep you as comfortable as possible. You probably won’t be up to talking for a day or so. I want you to try to rest. If you need anything or if the pain gets worse then let Samantha know. I know that she’s only a schoolgirl really but she’s at that awkward age, sixteen, too old to be a child and too young to be an adult. However, she’s so keen to help out and we’re short staffed so I gave her the job of watching you. I hope you’re not offended but we really can’t afford to tie up a trained nurse because we are snowed under just at the moment. Do you want anything? One grunt for yes, two for no.

One grunt.

Are you in pain?

One grunt

Do you need more laudanum?

One grunt.

There was a trolley by the bed and she reached across to take up a syringe and a bottle of liquid. With a practised motion she drew up some of the liquid into the syringe then she wiped the small patch of bare skin at my wrist with a wet cloth and plunged the needle into my arm. By the time I had counted to ten I was asleep.

When I woke the second time it was to see Samantha’s face hovering over me.

Oh you’re awake again. Do you want anything? I know the code: one grunt for yes two for no. I’m Samantha but you can call me Sam, everyone does, but they like you to be formal here.

My throat was raw again so I grunted.

Let me guess. I’ll say my guess and if it’s right you grunt. You want more laudanum. I stayed silent

You want me to get Sister. I stayed silent.

You’re thirsty. One grunt.

Oh, that means yes... err. Do you want a drink? One grunt.

Right! I’ve got water. I stayed silent.

Tea? I don’t know if you can have that yet I’ll have to check. I stayed silent.

My father likes a spot of Brandy when he’s not feeling well. I grunted.

Oh dear I’m sure that brandy is against the rules. I think all that I’m allowed to offer you is tea, but I’ll have to check or we’re back to water. I grunted.

Right, was that tea or water? Silly me, that wasn’t a proper question, was it? I grunted.

So would you like tea? I stayed silent.

Or water? I grunted.

Water it is then. She said and a few seconds later she put the straw to my lips again and I sipped up a mouthful of slightly flat-tasting water.

After all that effort I was exhausted so I stayed mostly silent and listened to Samantha’s chatter. The girl just talked incessantly about any and everything that came into her head. I didn’t concentrate on the words and just let them wash over me and I drifted. Then my mind realised what she was talking about. She was talking about the bomb that had nearly killed me. I tried to move but the pain mounted again. I winced and tried to hide it, but the clever little thing noticed.

Oh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be reminding you should I. Do you want me to stop? Two grunts.

You want to hear about it? One grunt. She tried to carry on where she’d left off but I wanted to hear it from the beginning so I grunted twice as soon as she started. She looked puzzled and then her smile widened. You want me to start from the beginning? One grunt.

Well I can only tell you what my dad told me. I wasn’t there, but of course you know that. Apparently there was an unexploded bomb in the cellar of the theatre that you were in. No one knows how it got there; someone said it may have gone down the chimney. Some of those places have huge chimneys you know. Well it was the middle of the performance and something set the bomb off. No one knows how it was set off. Oh, you didn’t set it off did you? No, of course not, who would be so silly as to set off a bomb when they were next to it?

Despite myself, I found it easy to like this little chatterbox. She could hold a complete conversation with herself on her own.

Anyway there were lots of people sat in the seats just above the bomb. Most of them died straight away when the blast came through the floor and then the rest of the floor of the auditorium collapsed and lots of people fell down into the cellar. The roof went of course, but thankfully it didn’t do much extra damage. My dad says that some of the people were still sat in their seats. Then the ambulances and the soldiers and the ARP arrived and they started to get people out, but they had to wait for the soldiers to check that there weren’t any more bombs and so there were a lot of people screaming and crying for ages. My dad says that some of the injured people must have died from their wounds before the soldiers had finished, but he said that they were just doing their duty and if there had been another bomb then the whole situation would have been worse. She actually paused here for a breath.

I think that I would have tried to be brave and have tried to get them out anyway. Then there were ambulances and people were being dug out of the rubble. Dad says that you were one of the last to be pulled out alive. He says that you were very lucky. There was a sort of space around you where one wall had half collapsed onto a safe and that had made a hollow and you were curled up in the hollow. None of it was on the news because of ‘giving comfort to the enemy’ my dad says. It’s sad though, all those people enjoying themselves thinking that they were safe and the horrid war plays a trick on them and boom, they’re gone. She stopped abruptly here and started to sob. I wanted to comfort her but I couldn’t move so I began to hum.

I hummed a tune that my mother had taught me, a little nursery rhyme tune. The sobs stopped and she said I know that tune, my daddy used to sing it when I was a baby.

And then she rubbed her eyes dry and stiffened her back becoming determined again. But we’re not babies now, are we? We have to do our bit and my bit is to look after you. One grunt.

As I couldn’t communicate the hospital had given me a working identity; as I hadn’t been wearing a wedding ring I was Miss Smith. This seemed to satisfy them, I presume they had many Miss Smiths to cope with and I wasn’t an urgent case. Even when my voice returned after a week or so I responded to them as if Miss Smith was my actual name so they never actually asked who I was.

Ch 5: The Blue Crystal of Addiction

Vivienne Simpson always loved the theatre and this beastly war had meant that some had had to close, and others, like this one, had been casualties of the war itself. She remembered the theatre in its heyday when the finest variety acts from all over the world appeared on its stage. Now it was brought to this, piles of bricks and plaster sculpted into rough hills and valleys as if by some giant child’s hand. Here and there were poignant reminders of what had once been; part of an ornate gilded cornice, a shattered twisted chandelier, a tattered fragment of a plush velvet seat. She couldn’t stand the sadness of it all and her eyes blurred with unshed tears. When she looked again she saw that the sparkle wasn’t all due to her tears. Sitting on the torn and dusty cover of a defunct seat like a crown on a velvet cushion was a real gem. It was robins-egg blue and there was a pure white highlight glistening at its centre. She moved closer. No, it wasn’t just her imagination, the gem was real. It was rounded, almost a perfect hemisphere and its surface was smooth and highly polished. It reminded her of the glass millefiori that her mother had collected: but in miniature. It was about a half inch across and she knew before she touched it that it would be cold; it looked cold. She almost dropped it when she did pick it up, her premonition had been right, the gem was icy and it seemed to suck in the heat from her fingers even though it had been sitting there in the bright sunlight. Vivienne shut her eyes and exhaled deeply, thrusting the gem into the pocket of her dress. She could feel it resting against her hip bone drawing out her living heat.

Her morning constitutional was usually rounded off  with an indulgence; a sweet cake from the small coffee shop just down the road but now she didn’t feel like eating, she needed to get the gem home and put it safely in her jewellery box.

Vivienne had almost forgotten about the gem by the time her husband arrived home from his work. He was in a foul mood because one of his ‘little’ deals had gone wrong. She didn’t ask him what had gone wrong because she’d learned that lesson the hard way years ago. So she just kept silent. She knew his ‘business’ was on the fringes of what society might call legal but she had convinced herself that he did nothing really criminal. As he put it, If he saw an opportunity when others didn’t then was he to blame if people lost their money?

What’s for dinner? he asked.

Oh there’s some cold ham in the kitchen and there’s plenty of bread. I’m afraid I haven’t had time to cook this evening dear, she replied.

Then get me a drink, he ordered.

She poured him a large whiskey and followed him into the kitchen. He was staring at the single slice of ham on the plate. Is this all? he enquired.

I’m afraid so dear, she replied, but you have all of it, I ate earlier and I’m not hungry. This was a lie, she’d not eaten, and she hadn’t felt like eating.

A week later Henry Simpson noticed that his wife looked good. Over the past ten years she’d gradually put on more and more weight and so the wife of today hardly resembled the one he’d married. Then he corrected himself, her form had begun to return to her original shape and with the change he found himself becoming more attracted to her again. Their lives had also grown; grown apart. He couldn’t remember exactly when they’d taken to separate beds but the pressures of his business took up all his time these days and it was as much as he could do to just keep up and he needed all the rest he could get. Henry operated by buying things when they were plentiful and selling them when they became scarce but since the war started he’d been frustrated by the ration. Rationing made things scarce all right but there was a limit on what he could buy as well, the goods just weren’t available legitimately any more. So Henry had adapted by moving into the shadier side of the economy. The sources of his goods were often dubious and his clients now paid in cash and asked no questions. The problem with it all was that supply was