Northern Fiction - Going Underground
Wizard In Limbo
Eloise lay next to Hamish and tried to bring order to her chaotic thoughts. She shouldn't like Hamish, she knew that much. He was a murderer and a racist, a foul_mouthed Glaswegian yob. Then again, he was a chivalrous hero who had risked his own life in an attempt to rescue her. And yet she hated him more for trying to force her into the subservient role of helpless damsel in distress than for his political leanings. But hate was not the only feeling she had for him. Sometimes she wondered if...
His voice broke into her thoughts.
'How much longer are the bastards gonna be poking round?' he grumbled.
'I don't know,' Eloise sighed. 'This has been an unmitigated disaster, hasn't it? We've lost Nick, I never got a chance to look at Anghelides' manuscript, and now we've got the police down on us.'
'Aye,' Hamish replied dismally. 'And I never got a chance to rob the place. I even dropped that sword, back in the temple.' He fell silent for a while. 'I really think it'd be a bad idea if we go back in the car,' he went on after a while, 'if the Pigs are gonna be in the area. We'd be better off walking.'
Eloise turned to him in surprise. 'Hamish,' she said wonderingly. 'Surely not! A sensible idea from you?'
Hamish glared at her. She stared back, laughing quietly. For a while, his face remained locked in his characteristic scowl. Then it softened. He gazed into her eyes.
'Hamish...' Eloise said quietly. 'I...'
A sudden rustling from the bushes behind alerted them, and they swung round, scrambling to their feet. A dark figure stood between two trees, lit up from behind by the distant blue flashes of police car lights. The pair of them stared in trepidation at their visitor.
'You two,' it said, stepping forward. 'What are you doing here?'
Eloise stared intently at the figure, then rushed forward to hug him.
'Nick!' she cried. 'We thought we'd lost you!'
The crustie flushed with pleasure as he disentangled himself from Eloise. He shrugged, and they noticed the scratches on his face, and how torn his coat was. He had a sack over his back.
'I got out before the fire got too bad,' he laughed. 'Trouble was, I'd gone upstairs, so I had to jump a fair way. Still, I managed to fill this sack with stuff.' He slung it down at Hamish's feet. The Scot glared at him, refusing to speak. 'Aren't you going to take a look at our loot?' Nick asked.
Eloise threw an impatient look at Hamish, then opened the bag. A cascade of gold, silver and gems rushed out onto the ground. Eloise stared at it in wonder.
'Seems our shipping magnate recluse had a secret fetish for women's jewellery,' the Scouser said. 'There was shitloads of women's clothes in one room, as well, all bundled up. Fuckin' weirdo.'
'Fuckin' pervert,' Hamish agreed, scowling.
Eloise frowned. 'Unless...' she started. But she didn't want to spoil the moment of triumph, so she kept her intimations to herself. Still, she remembered what Anghelides had said about human sacrifice. His casualness had suggested he'd led many women along the path that she had almost followed.
'Oh, and I kept an eye out for manuscripts, Eloise,' Nick added, pulling a notebook from his pocket. 'And I found this in one room. Not sure if it's this Nicronemicon, but...'
Eloise took it, and flicked through the pages.
'No,' she said slowly, sadly, shaking her head. 'The Necronomicon must've gone up in the inferno.' She looked more closely at one page. 'But this is rather more interesting.'
'What?' demanded Hamish sulkily. 'What's so fuckin' interesting about a tatty notebook?'
Eloise looked up. 'It seems that this was Anghelides' personal diary. It details all the secret rituals of the Inner Sanctum of the Temple of Typhon... And here's something really interesting! About Anghelides' spiritual master. Dead now, apparently, but it refers to something in a vault beneath the old man's tower... Some refortified castle in North Wales...'
'Long way to Wales,' said Nick as he put the loot away. 'And that car we nicked will have been reported by now. We can't use it to get there.'
Hamish looked around, glancing worriedly in the direction of the house, where the clamour of the police pursuing their inquiries rang out loudly in the still night air, and the roaring of flames spat and crackled at the edge of hearing.
'Maybe,' he said slowly. 'But Wales is a long way from Silchester. And I think this area's getting a little too hot for us.'
Eloise linked arms with her two companions.
'So, we're decided?' she asked, looking winsomely at them. 'Wales?'
'Wales it is,' growled Hamish, and they headed for the road.
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