Me and My Shadow: Blank Magic, #7

By J Molyneux

One body two souls: two bodies one soul, light and shadow, separating and merging, male and female, good and evil. This story, set in the world of Blank Magic, moves from the seventeen hundreds to the nineteen eighties and tells of a quest for eternal life; by any means and at any cost. However, Time will not be thwarted so easily, and it will demand its price.

• Language: English
• Publisher: john molyneux
• Release date: Feb 5, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215017715

Book preview

Part 1 : Umbra

Ch: 1 The Order of the Satanic Flame

Midgemere Hall June 1799

His knees ached, and he felt quite faint, but Sir Simon Penfold, third baronet, gritted his teeth and pushed himself to his feet. It wouldn’t be long now. He’d fasted for six days and had drunk only his own urine. Soon the priests would come for him, and he would fulfil his destiny. Whilst he waited, he meditated about how his ascension to the ethereal state had come to pass.

The order of the Satanic Flame had come into existence about fifty years before. It was formed by a group of die hard zealots who had been members of the Hellfire Club. They disagreed with the play-acting and pretend of the club’s membership, discounting it as frivolous. These fanatics abhorred the insipid tenets of the public face of the club and had dedicated themselves to exploring the limits of its underlying ethos : Fais ce que tu voudras (Do what thou wilt). If any of the original members of the hellfire club had been present, they would have run a mile. The Satanic Flame believed in, and practised, all manner of extreme demonic worship. The practice included human sacrifice and grisly murder amongst its less esoteric doctrines. Sir Simon reflected that, he had himself sacrificed several newborn babes to the horned god. He had paid his dues, and now it was time to collect his reward.

His mother, Lady Malvale had encouraged him. In fact she’d introduced him to the society at an early age. She had taught him that growing old was something to be avoided at all cost and she had spent a fortune on various remedies and potions, none of which worked, until she had discovered how near-eternal life could be achieved. Unfortunately she’d taught her son too well. One day, a year or so before Simon came of age, she returned from riding around the estate and went up to her rooms to change. It was said that her night dress caught fire as it was being warmed by the maid. The fire was quickly extinguished, but she was badly burned and the maid was killed. Lady Malvale spent her last days in agony. She never had the chance to achieve her lifelong ambition. Simon hadn’t been too upset. He wanted the family money to secure his own bid for immortality. Inheriting the manor and the estates gave him that. It had taken nearly thirty years to assemble the components of his plan. He had premises specially built. He had researched black magic in all its aspects. Then he had assembled a team of alchemists, doctors, magic users and fanatics and had indoctrinated them to become his priests. Finally, he had captured a powerful witch. The witch was imprisoned in the dungeon, and she was already in the final stages of preparation.

Sir Simon wasn’t interested in accumulating wealth, in fact he had spent nearly half his family fortune to achieve his present state. The money didn’t matter, soon he would have the opportunity to rebuild his fortune ten times over. He was going to become immortal.

The witch had extreme magic. She had been tested numerous times and each time she had been proven to be suitable for the task. Her mind had been erased. For the past year it had been deprived of sensation. Her head and body had been permanently swaddled in thick layers of tar and hempen fibre. The surface of her tongue had been clamped between ceramic plates and wax had been inserted into her nose and ears. She had been unable to see, hear, touch, taste or smell anything. After a month she had descended into madness and she had fought with her magical senses but a cage of cold steel, enchanted by the priests, had been built around her so that even her special senses had become imprisoned.

After six months her raving had stilled and for the rest of the year she was in a state of catatonic shock. All sense of self had been expunged from her being and she had been kept alive only through the ministrations of the priests who introduced both food and water directly into her stomach. These constraints and the lack of physical movement had caused her musculature to become feeble and her flesh to become doughy. Only the constant ministrations of several nurses kept her body from degenerating further.

At the same time Simon had prepared himself. He indulged in every sensory pleasure, including taste, but he only ate miniscule amounts of food. His body had wasted away to resemble a thin skeleton covered in shrunken folds of loose skin. He had almost no muscle, and what little remained had to be assisted by splints and braces to achieve simple tasks like holding his head up.

During the past week he had starved himself completely and had only consumed a thimble full of liquid each day. He had spent the time in prayer to his master, the prince of Hell, and he was ready. A gong sounded in the great temple that he’d had constructed in the basement of his tower and, helped by his priests, he lay down on the bier and closed his eyes.

It was a pity, he mused, to ensure the success of the melding it could only be performed between opposites or between a human and his familiar. He’d totally dismissed the idea of melding with an animal; there had been a chance that he would have assumed the form of the animal, and he didn’t like the idea of spending eternity as a cat. He wanted to stay human. However, in her notes for her own transformation his mother, the late Lady Malvale had stipulated that merges must always be between members of the opposite sex. He was a man and this had meant that he couldn’t meld with another man; the meld had to be performed with a woman. Since he also desired the ability to perform magic, the only option left had been the witch.

From his reading of the occult texts, melds between humans were almost always failures because two minds tried to share the same body. He’d been clever there, he made sure that the witch had no mind left to contest with his own. There was some uncertainty, however, he was willing to take the gamble.

All he needed now was the right weather. The day had been hot and when he’d looked out of the window earlier he could see the tall cumulonimbus clouds climbing into the heavens above.

He’d read of the works of Signori Galvani and Signori Volta and some of their more progressive colleagues, and he had reasoned that their discoveries would be able to create the conditions for a magical meld. He’d also reasoned that such a meld would require enormous galvanic power. This was available from lightning. The rectangular tower that he'd bought was a good place to gather such power. Foulcrest tower was the only structure on top of an isolated hill in otherwise flat countryside, and it bore the scars of many lightning strikes.

Simon had spent even more money converting the tower for his use. It had a large flat expanse at its top, and Simon had had four  stone columns built at the corners. The columns supported large pulleys over which ran ropes. The ropes met over the centre of the tower. They supported two things; a large spiked structure pointing upwards to the sky and an iron ring from which dangled a series of chains. Within the curtain formed by these chains was a stone altar on which were pairs of manacles. Each of the chains was attached to the central post of a Leyden jar and the outside surfaces of the Leyden jars were connected by thick cables to spikes driven into the surface of the roof. Each cable narrowed to a thin piece of iron wire, no thicker than a hair. The wire was encased in thick gutta-percha.

Just as twilight was falling a gong sounded in the depths of the tower and, Simon heard chanting as his priests began the procession. A wide spiral staircase wound around the inside of the central core. In his mind’s eye, he saw a group carrying a large wooden stretcher with the witch strapped onto its frame. The procession was headed by his priests who would perform the demonic part of the ritual. Privately Simon thought that the galvanic energy would be enough for his purposes, but he reasoned that the priests wanted some sort of ritual in return for their participation.

Simon waited and a few minutes later, Porcas, his faithful servant, and another acolyte entered his room. They took up the bier and began to climb the stairs to the roof.

When the bier reached the top of the tower, he could see a flurry of activity around the central altar. The priests were removing the swaddling layers from the witch’s body. They then transferred the woman to an altar inside the chain cage and strapped her down.

It was time for Simon to get in position himself. Helped by his priests he lay down on top of the witch facing towards the sky. His body had shrunk during his fast and his head nestled between her  breasts. Porcas helped him push his hands and feet into the upper part of the shackles that held the witch in place. It was uncomfortable, but Simon was willing to undergo a small discomfort to achieve his goals.

Now all he had to do was wait.

He didn't have to wait long; the first bolt of lightning hit the spike and the iron cage bucked like something alive. The curtain of chains beneath it rippled and then seemed to inflate as if they were attached to the surface of a massive balloon. Within a fraction of a second the balloon imploded as the charge transferred into the Leydens, and Simon felt the initial surge of current that set every nerve in his body on fire.

Inside the cage the witch's instinctive magical defences caused her body to try to escape into the astral plane. Simon's body fell into the space she vacated and the two bodies merged. Simon felt his whole being turn to exquisite fire as his body merged with that of the witch. Then he died for the first time.

However, the charge in the Leydens needed somewhere to go, and it sought the earth through the thin wire fuses. Almost simultaneously the gutta-percha exploded breaking the path for the lightning. This caused the charge to reflect back upwards through the chain curtain and up to the spike sucking more energy from the clouds. The result was as if there had been a successive series of bolts applied to the altar, until the charge in the cloud became too depleted to sustain the oscillation.

Of course Simon didn’t see any of this, his body had died within the first few seconds.

The chief priest gazed in wonder at the frenzy of arcs and the pulsing chain cage that surrounded the altar. Then he raised his knife. The sacrifice on the altar in front of him died in an instant and a great shout came from the assembled acolytes, All Hail Lucifer.

When Simon awoke, two things were immediately clear. He was alive and he couldn’t move. He calmed his racing mind. The former was a surprise; he’d half expected that the procedure would destroy him utterly. The latter wasn’t unexpected: it would take some time until the flesh that he’d purloined became strong enough for him to use.

It was good to know that his gamble had succeeded; he couldn’t sense even the smallest vestige of the witch in his mind. Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted as a grotesque head filled his vision.

Generations of Porcas had served the Penfolds since the fifteenth century and the present Porcas had carried on the family tradition. He gave his master absolute loyalty and obedience and, in return, his master rewarded him and ensured his family’s survival by periodically providing each Porcas with the means to carry on the dynasty.

Porcas was glad to see that his master had survived the melding process. Every Porcas was accustomed to the various eccentricities of the Masters and so the shape lying in the large vat of oil did not trouble him. As soon as the transformation was over, he had placed his Master into the liquid support to relieve the pressure that his Master’s new flesh imposed on his weakened bones and organs. It had been a busy few days. He’d followed his Master’s secret instructions and had, as he’d been instructed, dealt with the various priests, acolytes and technicians who had taken part in the process. He had paid them all in gold, and they had been delighted when he had announced a special bonus. The bonus was an extra bag of gold that they would receive at the celebratory feast which had been arranged to mark the success of their labours.

They all attended the banquet, and Porcas got the party going by handing out opium and other drugs. After a couple of hours, they all sat down to the feast proper. Most of them had the roast swan but a few opted for the sturgeon. It didn’t matter which they chose; both were laced with generous amounts of poison. Porcas had added a little extra touch of his own. The iced sherbet dessert was a great success; it contained ground glass and bamboo shavings. Porcas had enjoyed the screams and the looks on their faces as the extra ingredients began to lacerate the diner’s innards.

Twenty corpses take some time to bury and so it was a couple of days before he could come to see to his Master’s needs properly.

Get me some water.

The words formed in his mind and Porcas leapt backwards, a grin on his face, Master you said that you would return. I am glad to see that you survived the joining, and I am doubly glad to learn that you have managed to acquire the magic as you intended.

The next thoughts he heard were definitely impatient, Water!

Of course master, at once, master.

Yes, Porcas thought, the body may have changed, but the person inside it is still my old master.

Five months later, diet, exercise, and willpower had restored Simon’s body to a semblance of health. This meant he could leave the supporting fluid of his tank for a few hours a day. He could move about under his own power and tend to his own needs. Simon had planned ahead. Before he’d merged, he’d been aware that a woman’s body had different needs to a man's. Although he’d read about the differences, and questioned many of the women he’d rented during his preparations, the reality was decidedly different. Nevertheless, he had come to terms with them, and that only left one small personal task to be decided. He required a new name: one that matched his new youthful body. Henceforth, he would be known as Simone.

Porcas had just finished the latest letter and had dispatched it with the boy to the agents in London. They would ensure that it was forwarded to the appropriate people abroad who would send the letter back to Midgemere. His master had thought everything out beforehand. It occurred to Porcas that it would be inappropriate for a twenty-five-year-old gentlewoman, as his master's outward appearance now was, to have a grizzled manservant in attendance, so Porcas made some changes. Fortunately, he'd retained some of the clothing that had been left behind after he'd cleared up the banquet. He sought out a few articles that were the right size, added some extra padding, and put them on. It didn’t help much; he made an equally hideous maidservant. He gave up and donned his old clothes. If people looked upon it as strange to have a young woman with an elderly manservant then it was no business of theirs.

After nine months, Simone began to re-establish his presence in the world. His outer form might be young and female, however his inner self hadn’t changed at all.

The first thing he had to do was die.

He'd laid the groundwork; now he just needed to put the plan into action. His absence from society had been explained by a trip to visit regions of the far East where he had business interests. He'd pretended to leave on the clipper, and he'd ensured that regular letters arrived back at the family home detailing his travels. The letter announcing his death from some tropical fever was sat on his bureau. It explained that, due to the heat and the consequent rapid decay of the dead in the tropics, it had been impossible to ship Sir Simon's remains back to England. Therefore, Sir Simon had been buried in an obscure city several thousand miles from home. There was even a final paragraph where the agent from the East India Company had added his condolences to the family.

Simone wasn't worried about the succession. George, his son, the fourth baronet, had been named after the king. He had served with Wellington at Waterloo and the boy knew nothing of his father's dealings with the occult. In fact the boy had been so obsessed with the military life that the west wing of the hall had been given over to a sort of regimental museum containing every weapon under the sun. George, was about to receive a shock. His stepmother was about to arrive.

George was perplexed when he met Simone, his new stepmother, but her credentials were impeccable. Apparently Lady Simone had married his father in India; the documents she carried showed that the company representative had witnessed the marriage and registered it with the authorities.

George suspected that the woman claiming to be his father’s wife wasn’t all she seemed. He instantly put her down as a fortune hunter; his father had been in his sixties and his ‘stepmother’ was thirty five years younger. However, it appeared that Simone was wealthy in her own right and had an independent income of ten thousand a year. After a few weeks she withdrew to the small house in the woods and kept herself to herself. George kept well away in the west wing and revelled in his memories of glory on the battlefield.

Once he’d established himself at Midgemere, Simone decided that his next task was to rebuild his fortune. Everlasting life needed everlasting income.

A half-dozen years before, when he’d first become aware that his days didn’t need to be numbered, he’d been careful to liquidate and squirrel away a considerable part of his investments. Luckily he’d made the right choices. He’d invested in shares in the East India Company. By the date of his transition the company, as a whole, was responsible for almost half of the world’s trade: his remaining fortune was secure.

Of course, as a woman, his business dealings had to be a little more indirect, but his new magic could easily dominate weaker minds. They could interface with the world for him.

The first weak mind that he chose belonged to a young man called Henry Bassington. Henry was the eighth son of Lord Bassington. An eighth son couldn’t expect to inherit anything. Therefore, he’d been given a choice; the church, the army, or the law. Henry had picked the law, although he was totally unsuited to the profession. He was thin and gangly and no matter how carefully he dressed he always appeared unkempt.

Within a fortnight of Henry’s first meeting with Simone he was under her spell; literally. Within three months they were married and Henry changed from an ineffectual milksop to a force to be reckoned with.

Using Simone’s resources he’d invested in steam. Steam was the muscle of industry and industry was where the money was. New industries were springing up all over the place and Henry seemed to know which would thrive and which would fail. He made money regardless. Nobody even questioned how Henry managed to know exactly when and where to invest and take profits, but after a short while he became something of a legend in the city. There was even a rumour that he owned a considerable number of shares in the Bank of England.

All too soon Henry wore out. Simone had ridden him mercilessly and he finally broke. Everyone agreed that it was a tragedy, even Simone, but Simone was already on the hunt for Henry’s successor.

Henry had been physically weak, but the only thing about Charles that was weak was his mind. Henry’s will had left everything to his wife, hence Charles had sufficient capital to carry on where Henry had left off. Charles was a magnificent specimen; he was a superb horseman, and he partook in the noble art of boxing. He swam in the lake for an hour every morning, and he was so full of testosterone that he even tried to consummate the marriage.

He only tried it once. Simone tweaked his brain and thereafter he had many amorous adventures with Porcas in the bedroom: Simone laughed himself silly watching the pair but his fortunes continued to grow.

By the time Sir Harold, another baronet, came along, people had begun to notice that, the common factor in the family’s success wasn’t the serial procession of husbands, it was their wife. Harold only lasted six months before his heart gave out.

Simone considered that he’d amassed enough money and titles for the time being, and he retired to Midgemere to enjoy life. Simone’s body was still only twenty five, but the inner mind of Simon was approaching seventy. His outward appearance had ceased to matter to him; he kept it young and healthy because he needed a properly maintained container for his mind. Nobody ever saw his body except Porcas. Simone never ventured out in public. His relatives up in the main house were too busy with their own families to notice.

Ch: 2 Porcas

Midgemere 1835

Simone looked at himself in the mirror. What he saw bothered him. Ever since he had taken on the witch’s form his appearance had been the same, or so he thought. Now, however, the reflection showed him the truth. There were fine white streaks in amongst the midnight black waves of hair that fell to his shoulders. His original researches had predicted that the process of melding with the witch would make him immortal and, it was true, he didn’t feel any different than he had felt forty years before. However, he realised that the grimoires had not promised eternal youth. He was still ageing. Admittedly, the ageing process had slowed, but it hadn’t stopped altogether. He rang for Porcas and, when the servant appeared, he ordered some tea. He noticed that this edition of Porcas seemed to be female. Simone didn’t comment; generations of Porcas came and went and, as long as they served him he took little notice. He usually stayed well away from any social interactions with the residents of ‘downstairs’.

Porcas, he said, I will need to travel to London. You are to arrange things. I must consult with some old colleagues so pack suitable clothing.

Beg Pardon, Mistress, Porcas replied, If you are to travel to the capital you will need different attire. Do you wish me to engage the services of a seamstress?

Simone noted that this version of Porcas called him mistress. He supposed that, in a way, it was appropriate: it didn’t matter, he knew who he was. He had never considered that the simple process of consulting occult references would require new clothes. He had managed with loose robes and smocks for the most part except when he was hunting. Then he wore breeches and a tight tunic that stopped his breasts from bouncing all over the place as he rode.

The world outside Midgemere had moved on, but he still kept a remote eye on what was happening through the medium of his newspapers and his business informants. Simone was going to face the world, face on, as it were. He had the appearance of a woman, therefore he would have to look the part. Yes, Porcas, summon a seamstress, but make sure that she is discrete.

Of course mistress, Porcas replied.

And send a message to the ‘big house’. Tell George that I want to see him.

Porcas bobbed a curtsey, Yes mistress, I will send a message to the big house to tell Master Robert to expect you.

Porcas understood what her employer meant. She’d never known George, the current baronet’s grandfather: he had died before she was born. The current holder of the title was Robert. When her employer had said ‘George’ he was referring to whichever Penfold currently held the baronetcy.

Porcas had grown up watching her father and her grandfather serving Simone, and she had become accustomed to the peculiarities of serving an employer whose soul was that of a man, whose body was that of a woman, and who never appeared to grow any older. It had been so much a part of her life that she’d not even thought about it much. Well, not until her father had died and she had become ‘the Porcas’. Her mistress, apart from being eternal, could do amazing things. She could make things move without touching them, she could see directly into a person’s mind, and she could make them do things. If her mistress had lived a few hundred years earlier then she would have undoubtedly been called a witch, and she would have been burned alive. Or perhaps not, Porcas couldn’t imagine an ordinary mortal prevailing against her mistress’ power.

Therefore, Porcas served the Mistress. Her service wasn’t without its compensations. Porcas had found that she had a little magic of her own, possibly from living with the mistress for so long. Plus, her mistress always gave her toys to play with after she tired of them. The mistress’ toys were even better than slaves, by the time that Porcas inherited them, she could use them for anything she desired. It pleased her to use them to gratify her every whim. Then, when she also tired of them, she could make them scream for mercy as she tortured them until they expired. Sometimes, when she had accumulated two ‘toys’ she could make one clean up the remains of the other, so she didn’t have to trouble herself with the chore. It was a neat arrangement and Porcas considered that she did well out of the deal.

It was odd that her mistress now wanted to travel. To keep the secret of her longevity, her mistress usually hid herself away from society. That was the reason the mistress had had the ‘small house’ built. The ‘small house’, as it was known, was hidden away in the woods about half a mile from the ‘big house’ where the rest of the Penfolds lived. It only had four bedrooms and food was sent down from the ‘big house’ every day. The under-cook and three maids always accompanied the food. The under-cook would prepare the food for her mistress and herself and the maids would do the general cleaning. Neither the under-cook nor the maids ever saw the mistress, and they were forbidden to enter the private rooms where the mistress spent her time. They were all terrified of Porcas, and none of them ever stayed after dark. Porcas cleaned the private and very private rooms even though the very private ones were often quite messy.

One of the reasons that they were messy was because her mistress liked to hunt. Simone’s hunting ground was a rough circle about fifty miles in diameter centred on Midgemere. It took in a few towns. Although the mistress had the body of a woman, Porcas was certain that inside there was a man. He didn’t hunt often and he chose his prey carefully. His quarry were the people of the night. The local population never even noticed that his prey had gone missing or, if they did, they were usually grateful. There was little violence and no blood; those were for later. He enjoyed the chase and he delighted in taking on an aspect that terrified his prey so that they fled for their lives.

They always tried to hide and Simone enjoyed their reaction when he found them. Of course he cheated. Once their minds had been filled with fear they were like beacons of light to his magical senses. The hunt ended when they met Medusa. Simone liked the classical reference; Medusa’s gaze could turn her victims to stone. In his female aspect with his hair snaking around his head he looked a lot like the Gorgon of legend. One flick of his mental whip and his prey became rigid, as if they’d developed a whole body case of lockjaw.

They usually remained conscious and he revelled in the fear that circled within their minds. He ferried them back to Midgemere where he could have more fun with them. Once they’d served their purpose he usually passed them on to Porcas. He never enquired what happened to them afterwards.

A day or so later Robert, sixth baronet, arrived at the front door of the small house. He had come alone, as instructed. Robert had only ever been there a couple of times, the first time was with his father. He had been amazed that, his father, a big military man and the veteran of a dozen campaigns appeared to be terrified of the young woman who had met them. On other occasions he’d been on his own and he’d realised why his father had been terrified. The woman never seemed to grow older. When she stared at him with those enormous dark eyes, the evil that he saw there had seeped deep into his soul. Robert rang the bell.

The person that opened the door was female; just a girl really. Robert started to relax, but then he caught a faint whiff of evil emanating from her. This girl was also a thing of horror. She stank of decay and other noisome things. The girl stared at him for a second. The look gave him the distinct impression that here was a large cat sizing up a mouse that had wandered into her territory. He gave a little shudder.

I am here at the request of your mistress, he told the girl.

She curtsied and said, My mistress is in the morning room. She will see you there, there was the slightest hesitation before she added, Master Robert.

Without any further word, she turned and led him along a hallway to a room whose door stood slightly ajar. Robert gazed around. His memories of this place had always been of dark corridors, dust and decay, but he was surprised to see that the place was cleaner and better maintained than his own home. Perhaps it had always been so and it was his own fear that had coloured it with the gothic stories that he was so fond of. After all, it had been more than ten years since he’d been there before.

The morning room was equally light and airy and the maid showed him over to a rather elegant chair and indicated that he should be seated. He sat and began to look round as the maid moved over to stand behind a chair in the corner of the room. Then something seated in the chair moved and his eyes focussed on it. It was a beautiful young woman with raven black hair. She was robed in a loose velvet gown that clung to her curves. In other circumstances he might have felt a physical attraction. However, this wasn’t other circumstances. She raised her head and looked him directly in the eye. Suddenly the terror of previous visits resurged inside his head. He clamped down on his thoughts saying to himself, She is only a woman, what can she do to me? I am the sixth baronet and she, well she...

Could easily turn you inside out so that your organs and skeleton were on the outside, she finished in a sepulchral voice. She raised her hand and the ornamental bird in the cage next to her chair exploded into a glistening mass of blood and mangled flesh.

Robert swallowed hard and gripped the arms of his chair. The woman appeared not to notice and she said, I requested your presence because I need you to provide a retinue to open the house in London. I need to visit the capital to refer to some books that are currently only lodged in Montague House.

Robert thought, Why does she need me, surely she is powerful enough to do anything she wants? Too late he realised that she’d read his mind a few seconds ago.

You appear to have forgotten that your thoughts are as apparent to me as the fact that you seem to have lost control of your bladder. No matter, you are technically my descendant and, although I am many things, I am still a Penfold. I summoned you here today to make my request and also to give you something.

The woman nodded to her maid and the maid picked up a portfolio from a table next to her and brought it over to him. The maid avoided looking at his groin where his piss was starting to leak through and stain his hose. Taking the proffered leather satchel he placed it on the floor next to his chair. He sat there in abject fear for a half a minute and then he realised that the meeting was over. The woman in the chair appeared to fade from sight. He stood awkwardly and caught up the portfolio. The maid came over to him and escorted him to the door. As he followed her down the hall to the front door he couldn’t help noticing her curves and the way her hips moved. She opened the door and held it open for him. As he stepped across the threshold she grinned at him and licked her lips with a long thin tongue, Come back anytime Sir Robert, and maybe we can play. Her grin was wide and he could see that her teeth were all pointed and their edges were serrated; just like the crocodiles he’d seen in Egypt.

Robert almost burst into a run there and then, but he managed to walk sedately until he heard the door close behind him. Then he ran for his life.

When he arrived back at the big house he immediately went to his dressing room. He stripped off his soiled hose and threw on a robe that his valet handed him. The valet didn’t make any comment regarding his master’s state of distress, but the valet was wise enough to know that such things happened to people who visited the ‘small house’. He ordered another servant to prepare a bath and fetched his master a large tumbler of whisky.

Robert was still shaking after he’d gulped the whisky down. He waved his hand indicating that he wanted another. The valet took the glass and refilled it. Robert looked at the servant and said, Have you ever been to the small house, Karlsen?

Karlsen, the valet, smiled to himself; so he’d been right. No, Sir Robert, I have never had occasion to visit the establishment, he hesitated then considered that a few more words were needed. However, other members of staff have. I understand that it is not a pleasant place. Indeed, many of the younger maids who draw that duty seem to become extremely anxious to the extent that even those who did not regularly attend church now do so. The under-cook, who provides the meals for its residents, is made of sterner stuff. However, even she will not venture near the place unless she is wearing her gold crucifix bequeathed to her from her sainted mother.

Well, at least they won’t have to worry for much longer. Could you please send for Matthews, I have a task for him.

Of course, Sir, might I enquire the nature of this task?

Sir Robert considered, the facts would become know soon in any case and so he saw no harm in confiding in his valet.

You may, Karlsen. Matthews is to open the London house and hire a staff to maintain and manage it. The residents of the small house, Robert paused and gave a slight shudder, will be visiting the capital for an unspecified period.

Karlsen smiled, I am sure that this will be welcome news to the maids, Sir Robert.

Robert looked at his valet, Welcome news to us all, Karlsen.

Ch: 3 A Woman about Town

London 1835

The coach drew up outside the impressive house in Bloomsbury in the midst of a heavy downpour. Inside were Simone and Porcas. Simone was dressed in the latest fashion, However, it was uncomfortable, and, consequently, he was in a foul mood. Three days earlier, when the garment had originally been fitted Porcas had sensed her mistress’ distress. She had seen her mistress wince as the laces had been tightened and the stays had dug into soft flesh. Unusually for her, she had deflected the mistress’ anger away from the seamstress who had fitted the clothes, blaming an innocent mannequin for the misfit. The mannequin had exploded. In the time since the original fitting, Porcas had added extra padding here and there and her mistress now looked to be a few pounds heavier than she had back in Midgemere. However, the dress, or rather the undergarments, now only chafed a little: it hadn’t improved her mistress’ humour much.

A footman appeared at the carriage door. He was carrying an umbrella and he opened the door and lowered the steps. Simone descended, the long skirts of his dress trailing in the puddles. He strode towards the front door with Porcas running along behind. The door opened as he reached the bottom step. A severe looking man in a black suit looked down his nose at Simone for a split second and then looked quickly away. The butler stood to one side as Simone entered. Porcas followed close behind, thrusting a carpet bag into the butler’s arms. The butler started to sneer, but he looked more closely at the second woman and thought better of it. He turned and dropped the bag into the waiting hands of a maid.

Simone was half-way up the stairs before the butler said, Welcome to London, your ladyship.

Both of the women ignored him. A maid was waiting on the first floor, hovering outside a door. As Simone approached, she bobbed a curtsey and opened the door. Her ladyship swept through, and Porcas, following close behind, shut the door in the maid’s face.

Get me out of this thing! Simone snapped.

At once mistress, Porcas said. Inwardly she heaved a sigh of relief. They were here, and they’d managed to get here without her mistress killing anyone. She went over to Simone, unbuttoned the back of the dress and tugged at the laces until she felt them release. Simone bent backwards with his hands on his hips to force the garments to slacken even more. With disaster temporarily averted, Porcas went over to the decanter and poured her mistress a drink. Simone slumped in a chair.

Go and sort them out, Porcas. I want dinner at seven, then we are going out.

Yes mistress, Porcas replied. Then she went out of the room.

Outside the maid was still waiting. Porcas took one look at her and said, You will not be needed. I will attend to Mistress Simone’s needs. Where’s the butler?

Downstairs, ma’am, if you please. He has an office next to the kitchen. Do you wish me to fetch him? the girl replied.

No, just show me. Oh, and you will refer to me as Porcas, just that. I am her Ladyship’s personal companion. Any orders from me are to be treated as coming directly from her. Do you understand?

Yes, ma’am.

Make sure that you tell the rest of the staff.

Yes, ma’am.

Stupid girl, Porcas glared, Who am I?

Porcas, ma’am, then she caught the slight grimace in Porcas’s face, Oh, I mean, Yes Porcas, I will tell the others.

Porcas nodded, Now show me the way.

The house was spacious enough, half a dozen bedrooms, a long hallway, a dining room, parlour, morning room and library as well as staff quarters, kitchen, laundry and other domestic facilities. Porcas had studied the plans before coming, and so she knew the general layout. She’d already ordered that her bedroom would be next to her mistress’.

The butler was, as the maid had foretold, in his pantry. When Porcas entered, he stood up looking at her with a haughty look on his face. Porcas locked eyes with him and he paled.

I am Porcas, she said, All domestic matters will be referred to myself. Dinner will be at seven sharp, a small portion of plain fare is required; poultry or light game, nothing elaborate. Her Ladyship will take it in the dining room. I will eat with her. You will arrange for a carriage to present itself at nine. Her ladyship will be going out at that time. I will accompany her. We will return later, and I only expect to see the night porter at that time. He will admit us both and then he may retire. No other staff are needed or wanted. Breakfast will be at seven in the morning. I will inform you of the day’s arrangement’s at that time. All communications with the mistress will be through me. Is that understood?

The butler looked as if he might argue, but the agent who had hired him had told him that the new residents might have peculiar country ways. The agent had hinted that these ‘ways’ might involve a certain degree of strangeness, but that it was to be treated with the utmost discretion. The butler knew about strange ways from previous masters. He assumed that this new mistress was no different. He smiled politely. As you wish, Porcas he said.

Porcas was impressed despite herself. News travelled fast and the butler was obviously quick-witted. She wondered if she might not have to kill him after they left.

Ch: 4 The Secret Library

Simone had secretly monitored the cadet branches of the Satanic Flame since his transformation. He had not bothered to rejoin the order, but he had spread the rumour that the sudden disappearance of the group had been caused by them all being snatched down to hell during a flawed ritual. Simone thought that this was, to a certain extent, the truth.

The Satanic Flame still existed and it had grown. Its members contained descendants of the original group, but they had recruited others. They still had a considerable influence in society. When the British museum had been first created during the latter part of the eighteenth century, they had used that influence. A Grand Master of the order had thought that the library should have an occult section. However, to keep it from the prying eyes of the public it was housed in a subterranean room underneath the main library itself.

Access was restricted by the installation of a special lock. The key to this lock was a secret only known to members of the Flame. It was this knowledge that had prompted Simone and Porcas to visit a current member, Henry James, and obtain the information. To give him his due, Henry had held out for a while. Unfortunately, Porcas had continued long after Henry had literally spilled his guts.

They needed to dispose of the body but death was common in the capital. Porcas arranged for two burley foreign sailors to take him upriver and dump his corpse somewhere.

Two days later Simone and Porcas set out for the British Museum. They were admitted, along with another group of gentlefolk, but they soon went their own way and arrived at the library. The lock to the underground room was operated from the library itself.

The key, so Henry informed her, was in the iron balustrade on the balcony under the window opposite to the entrance door. The cast iron construction consisted of a series of panels. Simone needed to go to the centre panel of the section. In the centre of the panel was a design like a four-spoked wheel. At the hub of the wheel was a gilded boss with a leaf ornamentation. The leaf on the boss needed to be turned through a half circle. Once the leaf had been rotated then the door to the secret room would become unlocked.

The secret room was hidden in plain sight behind a solid wooden door in a utility room off the main library area. Normally the door hinged on the left and this opened into a small broom closet. However, when the lock was sprung the door opened to the right and it revealed a narrow passageway disappearing down a flight of stairs and then off to the left towards a bigger room. The door opened easily and the pair entered. It shut behind them with a loud click and Simone knew that, on the balustrade above, a leaf had rotated back into its original position. They were locked in. In common with the rest of the building there were no artificial lights allowed, but the designers of the secret room had solved that particular problem. Part of the ceiling extended beyond the perimeter of the library and it had heavy glass tiles embedded in it. These let in enough light to see by. The room contained a few dozen cases each with three shelves. On each of the shelves were irregularly shaped books. Some of them were chained to the shelves to prevent their removal. The dim light posed no problem for Simone. Every witch could conjure light and his acquired body was no exception. He concentrated and a blueish orb of light appeared in mid-air, it followed him across the room as he browsed the shelves. It took him a few moments to locate the volume that he needed. Taking out his notepad and a pen he opened the volume and began to read.

An hour later the orb of light vanished. Porcas noted that, although it was still summer, the light from the glass tiles had dimmed considerably since they’d first entered. Simone said nothing. He gathered up his notepad and put his pen back into its travelling case. Porcas was ready. She’d spent the time whilst her mistress was reading in locating the mechanism that opened the secret door from the inside. It hadn’t taken much intelligence; a large lever marked ‘Exit’ emerged from a wall to one side of the narrow passageway.

Did you find what you were seeking, mistress? Porcas asked. The stony silence that answered did not bode well.

Eventually, Simone said, No, Porcas, there was no mention of what might befall a being such as I as I age. However, this is just one book. There are at least five others that I must consult before I will be certain. We will return tomorrow.

Of course, mistress.

Three days later, after he had consulted all six books, Simone turned to Porcas. Even in the dim light she could see that her mistress was not happy. She was about to make a placatory comment when Simone spun around quickly and went back to the shelves. He took down a book and slammed it onto the lectern. The orb of light re-appeared and Simone started turning pages quickly. Eventually he found what he’d been seeking. The notebook came out and Simone started scribbling frantically.

When Porcas closed the door to the secret room later that evening she could tell that her mistress was in a better mood. This was confirmed later as they travelled back to the house.

We are going out for the evening, Porcas, Simone said, we’re going hunting, and I am not wearing these ridiculous, constricting clothes any longer. Set out my hunting gear. We will have supper and then see what we can find for amusement in this great city.

Yes, mistress, will we be needing transport?

Yes, Porcas, a change of scene might be relaxing. Hire a coach and driver. You can drive it back when we’re finished.

Immediately, mistress.

Two days later Simone asked Porcas, Have there been any repercussions from our hunt?

No mistress, we kept to the suburbs and there has been no gossip amongst the staff or in the community at large.

That is good because we need to remain in the capital for a while. There is a thriving community of magic users here and they even have a place dedicated to advanced study; it’s called the Temple. I believe that we may be able to find the answers that I seek there. However, there are a few members of the Satanic Flame amongst them, and they will be on the lookout for the person who killed Henry. I cannot expose myself to them directly; they would be sure to divine who I am, and they will have histories telling of what happened at Foulcrest tower. Your grandfather did a good job of eliminating the immediate witnesses, but there will be records, mason’s invoices and the like, that will name the Penfold family. We must find a way of getting access without arousing suspicion. I will think on the matter, but I must see to the family finances first. I am expecting a visit tomorrow from a representative of Cabot and Cabot, the lawyers. Once I have dealt with them, I will have more time to devote to gaining access to the Temple.

Yes mistress, Porcas said.

Jubal Small sat hunched in the chair in the lobby of the grand house. He was bent over, clutching a briefcase of documents in his lap; he looked like some bird hatching a very peculiar egg. The other reason that he was hunched was that, although his name was Small his body wasn’t. He was over six feet tall but extremely thin. It looked like he’d been starved and then stretched. His eyes looked up as a young woman approached and they were mesmerised by the fluid motion of her hips and the way her breasts bounced a little as she walked.

Porcas looked at the man in the chair; he was young, but his clothes looked like they’d been made for someone a foot shorter. The overall peculiarity of his appearance was increased by his hair. It was a brilliant orange-red, and it stood vertically up from his scalp like the bristles of a paint brush. She smiled at him, You are the man from Cabot and Cabot. My mistress is expecting you. I will show you up. She turned on her heels and started up the curving staircase.

Jubal followed, his eyes never leaving the rear-view of those swaying hips for a single second. A few yards along the landing she stopped outside a door. Porcas held the door open and ushered Jubal in. She had noticed his interest in her, and she was tempted to play on it. However, her games would have to wait. The mistress was not in a good mood.

Sit down! Give me the documents that Cabot has sent! Sit still and be quiet whilst I read them. Jubal took out the sheaf of documents and then started to explain, I am... I said quiet! Simone snapped and Jubal’s words shrank back into his throat.

Simone seemed to be muttering to herself and Jubal caught the odd word here and there, ‘Steam Engine’ was one, and ‘Shares’ was another, but the one that stuck in his mind was ‘Stupid’.

Then he gave a start, she was now speaking directly to him. I’m sorry, Lady Penfold, I was distracted, what did you say?

Simone growled, I said that I assume you know the contents of these documents.

Yes, Lady Penfold. I am fully aware of the contents.

Then can you tell me why you have sold shares in the steam engines and bought canal shares instead?

"It was the older Mr Cabot’s decision. He factored in