The Black Lotus (Night Flower) (23 page)

“Where are you Lestrade?” She murmured, softly, her voice tremulous and tiny in the vast parlour. Turning from the jacket, she left the room and headed for the door at the rear of the hall. Quietly, she turned the handle and walked in. Beyond was a library, its shelves
groaning with books. Dazed she turned in a slow circle, her eyes taking in the sight. The shelves reached to the ceiling and each shelf was full of books and papers bound haphazardly with string. In addition to the stacked shelves a large table in the centre of the room was spread with papers and journals. It looked like the workroom of some mad librarian. Melissa turned to the stacks first. Some were titles she recognised, a heavy bound bible and several recent printed works, yet there were many that she did not recognise. There were tomes in Latin and Greek, German and French and languages that she had never seen before. She ran her fingers over the heavy bound titles, reading them with increasing unease. There was a copy of the Malleus Maleficurum and several French treatises on magic and the devil. Turning away from the stacks, she moved to the table, her fingers idly turning the pages of the journals to reveal reams of spiky handwriting. Looking past the battered volumes, her eyes fell on the piles of parchment and paper.

“What is all this?”

Her muttered exclamation sounded fatefully loud in the still air of the library as she carefully moved the top piece of paper from one stack and stopped dead. The parchment below held only a rough sketch. A sketch of the lotus that adorned Justin’s neck lay before her in painstakingly detailed glory, from its outward appearance to the revelation that the ornament was in fact a locket. The air in the library stifled her; the heavy, leaden atmosphere grew charged with tension as Melissa read the notations on the side of the picture.

Unable to break the hinges or even remove the picture…will blacken with fire yet this has no other discernable effect... The curse still holds true and I am unable to free us from i
ts grip.

Curious, she pushed aside the picture and began to
leaf through the pages beneath. Notes written in the same spiky handwriting that ran through the journals flowed across each piece of parchment. Each page detailed a test or effort to destroy the locket that he wore at his throat. With increasing bewilderment she read on, the passages becoming more unbelievable and disturbing. Moving swiftly to another pile, she carried on; thoughts of finding Justin pushed to one side as she read the sprawling piles of text. Within the papers and journal lay a terrible history, of a life lived too long and without the release of death.

“What are you doing here?”

Melissa gave a shriek and
jumped backwards from the table. The movement sent a 

small
stack of papers to the stone floor. From the doorway Justin walked towards her, his feet making no sound as he approached. With her heart in her mouth she watched him walk forward. His handsome face was creased with shock and anger burned in the dark depths of his eyes as they raked over the papers that she still held in her hands.

“Justin!”
A tremulous whisper escaped her lips as he stopped just shy of the table. She swallowed convulsively and the papers in her hands crackled as her fingers twitched fearfully. With blood roaring in her ears, she waited for him to speak, waited for his understandable anger at her trespass. Silence stretched uncomfortably across the room as he said nothing. Only his eyes were alive as they roved over the mass of paperwork on the table and her laden hands.

“Justin?”
She spoke again, dragging his attention from the mess and to contemplation of her. “I’m sorry... I…” She started to babble, trying to salvage something of the situation. In the back of her mind, she hoped that she could bluff her way free. “I didn’t mean to.. I shouldn’t have.”

“What did you read?” He spoke finally, his voice terse and clipped with suppressed emotion as he stepped forward and began to tidy the pile of papers back into place. “What did you see?”

“I…” She stammered as he turned aside the picture and looked down at it. “I just saw the picture.”

“You saw more than that.” He noted dryly as he turned to face her. “You’ve seen my notes, you were reading quite devotedly when I came in.”

“I’m sorry I… I’ll go.” She backed off towards the door, a prickle of fear travelling down her spine as he stared at her with those unfathomable eyes.
If half of what she had read within that spidery mass of parchment were true, she knew she was in trouble.

“Why? I’m sure you have questions.” He pushed aside a stack of papers and revealed a chair. “Please ask away.”

“I’m intruding.. I don’t know what came over me.”
She backed away further, feeling the round knob of the door handle pressing into her back as she stepped up against the door.

“Melissa.” He sighed
then and leant forward, his gaze softening as he watched the panic in her eyes. “I won’t hurt you.”

“Do you promise?
”

A look of pain briefly chased across his features at her words and he nodded. “I promise you are safe with me.”

Melissa tentatively stepped forward and lowered herself into the chair. Justin uncovered another seat and sat down to face her. For several moments neither spoke. The atmosphere was fraught with tension and in Melissa’s case fear. A minute passed and eventually Justin spoke, his face breaking free of the dark shroud of angered shock that he had worn since entering.

“I will
not hurt you Melissa. I swear.” His voice was soft, soothing and he stood from the chair and headed for the door. “If you wish to leave..” He pushed open the door and revealed the empty hallway beyond. “You may, I will not stop you and once you go I promise to never bother you again.”

Melissa hesitated, her fear of the unknown clashing with her desire to know more.
Lestrade and his secrets drew her in and she could not leave without getting close to the mystery of the man before her.

“
Is it true? Are you really…” She blurted out, giving in finally to the clamouring voice of curiosity that pulsed through her mind. Justin shut the door and returned to his chair, waiting for her to continue in calm silence. Melissa took a long breath, unsure of how to continue with a statement that was patently ridiculous. She bit her lip, tasting the coppery warmth of blood and steeled herself to continue “Are you really immortal?”

“I see you read that far.” He considered, looking at her carefully.
“And how should I answer? Will I lie and pretend that you are foolish for considering such fairy tales?” He moved a stray piece of paper to the middle of the table and continued. “Or shall I pretend that I have a morbid fascination? Or shall I tell you nothing at all?” He ran his thumb and forefinger over his lips as he finished, his eyes not leaving hers. “Yet…” He sighed and leant forward, “You deserve the truth.”

“Then you are immortal?”

“Yes.” Melissa heard the word, simple yet sincere, the tones echoing lightly in the dusty air of the library for an instant before dying in the quiet.

“How?”

“It’s a long and complicated tale.” Strands of his familiar humour drifted into his voice as he spoke, notes of a mockery that she was only now beginning to understand.

“Tell me.”

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“Yes.” She barely considered the response, only knowing that she wanted the truth, the truth of Justin’s m
anner and history. His eyes caught hers and she felt her breath catch at the intensity in his gaze.

“Very well.” He pushed a hand through his hair and sighed. “I was born in Wiltshire in the year of our Lord, fourteen hundred and ninety five. My father was of good stock and a fixture at the court of Henry the Seventh. My younger brother Alistair and I spent much of our time hawking, jousting and hunting until we called into service at Flodden. We covered ourselves in glory and returned home…” He paused, staring off into the distance, searching for the painful remnants of his past. Melissa waited, stilling the impatient questions that waited on the end of her tongue and wondering just what he saw beyond.

Chapter
24:

Late October 1515

“Christ’s blood I’m bored.” Rain pattered across the shutters and a cold draught whistled through the long hall. The two brothers lounged at the far end of the table, idly tossing a pair of dice between them. It was late autumn and the chill of winter had begun to permeate the castle. Justin stared at his younger brother and answered his complaint.

“Don’t let the priest or M
other hear you blaspheme.”

“I’m still bored Justin.” Alistair rolled the dice carefully and sighed as it landed on yet another unfavourable role. “You’re the
eldest; find us something entertaining to do.”

“We could check out the attic, have a look at
Thomas’ chest.” Justin suggested as he pulled himself upright. “

“Isn’t that cursed?”

“
Supposedly.” Justin answered with a careless shrug. “When he brought it back from the last crusade, some witch of a woman told him never to open it.” He chuckled and started to walk towards the door. “I don’t know whether I believe it though. There’s possibly some gem or treasure in there, yet nobody in this family has yet been brave enough to risk the curse.”

“You don’t believe that it’s cursed?”

“Let’s just say that the word of a witch who couldn’t keep her own head doesn’t frighten me. So are you coming?”

Alistair slowly got to his feet and they crossed the hall and headed for the wide stairs that led to the
minstrel’s gallery that ran around the edge of the room. Slowly they made their way to the stairs and headed up. The dark wood was smooth beneath their calloused fingers as they reached the next floor.

“Justin, Alistair.” A light girlish voice interrupted their progress and both turned to see the slight figure of a young girl head towards them. “Where are you going?”

Alistair turned to his brother and rolled his eyes. Neither felt like entertaining their younger sister this morning.

“Somewhere you don’t want to go.” Justin said smoothly as he knelt down to her level. “Listen,
Nan’s making almond paste in the kitchens. She said that she’d keep a piece for you.”

“Almond paste?”
Eleanor’s eyes lit up in delight and she turned away and headed down the stairs. Justin looked at his brother and winked. Hiding a chuckle, Alistair continued on up the stairs and began to look for the hatch into the rafters. After some investigation they heaved their way into the low ceiling room that wasn’t much more than a crawl space.

“S
o you say there’s a chest up here?” Alistair asked as he pulled himself through the hatchway and stared about him. “You can barely swing a cat.”

“It’s in the corner.. hold on.” Justin felt forward, his vision not much use in the dim hazy light. His searching fingers touched cobweb, cloth and remnants of old armour yet nothing that felt like a chest. He moved deeper into the crawl space, the darkness deepening as he moved away from the feeble light offered by the hatchway.

“Hurry it up Justin.” Alistair urged uncomfortable crouching low in the darkness. Cobwebs brushed the back of his neck and he scratched absently. “There is a chest right? It’s not just some family myth?”

“Yes..” Justin grunted in response as he crawled onwards. “I found it when I was a child. Nan caught me however and I couldn’t sit down for a week.” He shuffled forward, feeling the route with calloused hands. “Ah hah! Here it is.” His fingers closed on the edge of something solid and smooth. Reaching forward with both hands, he caught hold of the sides of the box and began to pull it backwards towards the hatch. “Move then.” He ordered as he reached Alistair’s side.

“Are we looking at it here?” Alistair asked as his brother moved into a more comfortable position and laid the box before him.

“I don’t fancy explaining to father why we’re running around with this. Do you?” Justin replied as he shifted into a lotus position and stared at the dark shape.

“Well I can’t see anything.” Ali
stair complained as he moved to enable more light to spill through the hatch. It didn’t help; the chest lay shadowed in darkness. Alistair shrugged and turned to Justin.

“I still can’t see anything.”

“
We can’t move it downstairs.” Justin answered, nettled by his younger brother’s impatience. He shuffled about, looking for something, anything to increase the light level. A quick glance upward revealed the answer. “There’s a loose tile up there.” Justin exclaimed as he reached up and poked hard at the ceiling. A spattering of dust or mortar showered their heads as weak daylight lit the small space and the box between them. The sides were smooth and made from some lustrous wood that even smeared in dust retained some of its glory. Over the lid and hinges, ornate and fabulous carvings held the eye, their strangeness offset by their beauty. Neither dared to breathe, both looking at the box with rapt attention, scarcely aware of the time as they drank in the exquisitely carved lines.

“Shall we open it?” Justin murmured finally, his voice breaking the hushed silence.

“No…” Alistair’s voice followed, equally hushed, awed by the beauty of the box. “The devil has cursed it.”

“Nonsense. Good God-
fearing souls fear nothing of the devil’s traps and besides, it’s probably a rumour to stop people from getting at what’s within.” He reached for the latch and lifted the lid. Motes of sunshine danced in the air and bounced off the contents of the box. Laid on a bed of blood red velvet was a black enamel flower. Exquisitely carved and painted, the brooch lay like a discarded bloom against the fabric.

“Is that it?”
Disgusted, Justin reached forward and pulled the brooch from its resting place. As his fingers closed around the blossom, he felt it cling to his flesh, the smooth planes of metal and enamel fusing to his skin. A lassitude spread through his body and he pitched forward as the blankness of unconsciousness claimed him.

“Justin.
” Alistair grabbed his brother and pulled him upright. “Justin!” He reached for the brooch, meaning to wrench it free yet as his fingers closed round it, he found it fusing to his hand. As he too fell into a dreamless darkness, his eyes focused on the newly formed second brooch that now lay within his fingers.