The Watchers (19 page)

In the front hall, Maggie leane
d
over the desk, waiting for the receptionist to give her some print-outs. She turned her head to watch Jay saunter out of the lift. “There you are. About time,” she hollered, as she rested on her walking stick. “You’ll have to pay her. The paper is £5 a page.”

“Five…”
That’s like…twelve dollars. How many reams had she asked for? Jeese.
He placed his key upon the front desk. The receptionist was still gazing at her computer screen. “Room 7. Pullman. Any messages?” She looked up just as the printer at her side began churning out paper. Jay was counting them as they appeared.

She checked the screen. “No messages, sir.”

Maggie poked him in the ribs. “Don’t tell me you’re still waiting for a message from Fran? After all I’ve said.”

"I'd rather stick to the land of the living if that's all right with you? It's a lot more predictable."

“You think so, do you? Son, you just keep getting it wrong.”

He nodded to the stack of papers she held up to her chest and tucked behind her arm. “What have you got there? And how many.”

Maggie spoke directly to the receptionist. “Put it on his bill.” She linked her arm through Jay’s and pulled him towards the entrance. As they reached the door, Jay glanced back at the receptionist, who quickly averted her eyes and went back to her computer screen. Man, they must look like an odd pair. He attempted to release Maggie from her hold on him, but she pulled him back.

“We’re going to the Challis Well Gardens,” she said as they stepped outside the hotel. “It’s a tourist attraction at the foot of the Glastonbury Tor.”

As they walked past houses and shops with strange objects displayed in their windows, crystal balls, figurines of medieval horses and soldiers, fantastical creatures like dragons and unicorns, pendants with emblems and birthstones, new age jewellery, books on mystic legend; King Arthur, the ruins of Glastonbury cathedral…the list went on. Jay had already strolled through them all, asking about Fran and generally browsing through the strange merchandise.

“What is it about Glastonbury, Maggie? I can’t say I’ve ever seen a place like it.”

She tightened her grip on his arm. She was slowing her pace, leaning heavily on her stick. “This place…” she paused as she gathered her thoughts on how to summarise Glastonbury. “Why this is Avalon, sweetie. It’s Avalon.”

“Avalon!? As in King Arthur and Guinevere?”

“Of course, but it’s so much more than that.
Glastonbury Abbey
is the oldest Christian church in the world, which according to legend was built by Joseph of Arimathea's request to house the
Holy Grail
,
65 years after the death of Jesus. Joseph was Jesus’ great uncle. He brought him here to England on business, during those lost years when Jesus was just a boy.” She squinted as the sun blazed down on them.

Jay was wearing Raybans. He had read about the ‘Jesus’ connection somewhere. He wasn’t sure about believing that part since it was the first he’d heard and he always preferred a second opinion on anything he chose to believe in. And King Arthur….Avalon, they were mythical stories. No one believed in that stuff.

Maggie stopped to catch her breath and looked in a window of a shop called Man, Myth and Magik. Displayed inside were so many curiosities, Jay didn’t know where to look first. It was as crowded as Maggie’s apartment. “So you believe all these myths and legends, Maggie?”

“Of course! All legends start from somewhere, my boy. There isn’t a person in this town who doesn’t believe. It is their life. Where their dreams began.” She watched him grin. He didn’t try to hide it. “The people here may seem strange to you, but at least they believe in something. Whereas, you, American boy…what do you believe in?”

“I guess I don’t believe in much unless I’ve got proof.”

“Well, something tells me that even if proof slapped you in the face, you’d still find a reason to doubt. That’s the way you are. A city boy. I feel sorry for you in a way.”

“Thanks. And for your information, I’ve seen the Watchers with my own eyes.”

Maggie stopped in her tracks. It was as if she had turned to stone. Without moving a muscle, she said, “Why haven’t you mentioned this to me before, and when did you see them?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t mention it because I didn’t want your imagination going off into some spiritually driven realm, as it does with everything else.”

“You idiot,” she said sternly after she slapped him on the arm. She was thinking things through. “Okay, we’ll save the details for later, but do you have any idea what this mean, city boy?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

“You’re connected.”

“To the Angels?”

“The Watchers don’t let anyone see them unless they want to be seen. You’ve been chosen.”

“Chosen?”

“Kudos. You’re Kudos.” She rubbed his arm where she’d hit him. “I feel quite honoured.”

“Good for you. Can we concentrate on the present now? We’re looking for Fran remember.”

“I remember everything, American boy. Everything.”

They arrived at the Challis Well garden
s
where Maggie waited for him to open the gate so she could step inside. “You pay over there,” she said.

Jay pulled out his wallet and handed over a fifty. He didn’t get back much change. The place was cheap in comparison to the tourist attractions in New York, but it was still expensive. Not that anyone
did
tourist attractions anymore. The museum of natural history and the New York art gallery had been boarded up and sealed like Fort Knox, to be opened, they say, when the economy has improved.

“It looks like a nice place, Maggie. But why are we here?”

She was sitting on a bench next to a shallow stream. There were no other tourists. No one else there. “‘Nice’!? What sort of adjective is that?” she scowled. “It’s enchanting, serene, mystical…it’s not
nice
.” She stood up and they started to walk along a winding path amid shrubs and borders. “I’ll tell you what we’re doing here…I’ve got these theories, see!” Suddenly Maggie seemed unsure of herself, a little coy even, if that was possible. It was as if she had a lot to say but didn’t know how to say it. Jay found it strangely endearing.

She sat down again and he sat alongside her on the bench. The sun was hidden behind some trees but he could still feel its heat on his face and neck. He closed his eyes, letting the peace of the garden wash over him. It was the strangest sensation, one that he couldn’t remember ever experiencing before. It was a very,
very
nice
place. “So what’s the theory? I’m listening.” He kept his eyes closed and waited for her to begin. He could feel her shifting closer to him and he heard her rustling papers. When she nudged him with her elbow, he opened his eyes.

“Do you see this?”

He took the paper from her. It was an aerial map. He turned it around to look at it from all angles to see if there was something he recognised.

Impatiently, Maggie snatched it back. “Have you ever heard of the Pineal Gland, Yankee boy? Some call it the third eye. It’s a tiny muscle in your brain and when it’s activated, you can see things other people can’t see. Your creativity and your intelligence are enhanced or even revealed for the first time if you’re lucky enough to have it…” She whipped him across the arm with the paper. “Well, you ain’t got one. Period!”

Jay rubbed his arm and grinned. “Do you know how many bruises I have already?”

“Look, here,” she said, holding the aerial map on his lap. “I pulled this off Google Earth before they shut it down. I don’t know why the hell they did that.”

"Something to do with North Korea. Remember Pokemon Go in 2016? The whole thing blew up when they discovered the pesky little things in high-security locations. They shut down Pokemon and Google Earth at the same time. Too much exposure, the powers that be said. Can't let the public see too much…there may be an uprising." Now he was being sarcastic, but nothing riled him more than the world leaders holding back information that was deemed ‘not in the best interest of the public'. It was a minefield out there. Jay knew it and so did everyone else. It was just a matter of time before they blew everyone to bits with their nuclear devices. Despite the cover-ups, the word was out, the Russians, American's and the British have followed Red China's precedent and developed their own dirty bombs, or enhanced radiation weapon (ERW), better known as neutron bombs, with the potential to kill every living thing in range, with no impact on the environment or structures. Along with Nano tech, those little nani-blighters could be programmed to clean up the mess, leaving everything nice and dead-body-free for the ones left behind. The whole thing was terrifying, but Jay was past caring. When it’s your time to go, you go. And there was nothing anyone can do about it. End of!

Maggie was looking at her Google earth image. “It’s an aerial view of the Glastonbury Tor. See that…?” She pointed to an almond shaped mound amongst green fields. “That’s the Tor. What does it look like to you?”

“Without being rude,” he answered, “it looks like a woman’s…” He couldn’t say it.

“Vulva,” she finished for him. “Well done. So now we’re getting somewhere.” Maggie pointed to a symbol on the gate at the entrance to the gardens. “See that?” she asked. “It’s the Vesica Piscis symbol, made by linking two circles together to create an almond shape in its centre. That shape is called the Mandorla, which is Latin for almond.” Maggie smiled. “See?”

“Not really.”

She shook her head and frowned. "During medieval times, the almond was interpreted as a symbol of the embryo enclosed in the uterus," Maggie said.

“Okaayyy.”

“The Mandorla is interpreted as minimal space. Minimal space is the place where you leave one room and have not yet entered another. Do you understand?”

Jay nodded.

“All transformation takes place in minimal space. It’s a very potent symbol, and it’s everywhere. Christians use the symbol as a method to describe the coming together of heaven and earth, between the divine and human. Christ and the Virgin Mary are often portrayed in the framework of the Mandorla.” Maggie had a glint in her eye.

“Right, so the Vesica Pisceee…”

Maggie shook her head. “Vesica Pisces. Pronounced Jessica Crisis.”

“So the…Vesica Pisces creates the Mandorla and the Mandorla is the shape of the Glastonbury Tor?”

“Correct.”

“So?”

“Get your credit card out.”

Jay leaned forward and pulled his wallet from his back pocket. Maggie swiped his MasterCard from the sleeve. “What’s that symbol?” She was pointing to the MasterCard logo of two circles intertwined.

“Ha. It’s the Vesica Piscis.”

She nodded with a grin on her face. “I told you it’s everywhere. Even Gucci and Chanel used it and did you know the Washington memorial stands in its centre? I mean that’s your country, isn’t it?”

He shrugged as he looked around him. The symbol was everywhere in the gardens. It formed the cover to the well and on the path inlaid with blue stones. He had to admit to being more than a little intrigued. He heard Maggie cough as she pointed to the pool they were sitting next to. It was formed out of two circles with cascading red water flowing to a little stream. “Hey,” Jay announced. That pool is in the shape of the Vesica Pisces.”

“You’re very quick!” she quipped.

Jay narrowed his eyes and glared at her in a playful way. “Okay, so the Tor is a Mandorla shape…What does that mean?” Jay asked.

Maggie didn't answer. Instead, she took a pen from her bag on the seat next to her. She took the aerial picture of the Tor onto her lap and she drew two large circles around the almond shape mound, creating the Vesica Pisces symbol.

“Will you look at that?” Jay said. “But what does it mean…in the scheme of things?”

“The Tor is the minimal space between this world and the other. It is fabled that Joseph of Arimathea emptied Christ’s blood into the well from the cup used at the last supper, which is why they say the water runs red.” She shrugged. “Really, the water runs red because of the iron minerals contained within the soil beneath the Tor, but you know what they say?”

Jay shook his head

"There's no smoke without fire…or in this case no water without blood." She laughed at her little pun. "Joseph is said to have buried the Holy Grail just below the Tor at the entrance to the Underworld. Shortly after that, a spring, now known as the Chalice Well, flowed forth with water bringing eternal youth to whoever drank it."

“You’re saying the actual Holy Grail is buried in Glastonbury.”

“It is widely believed that finding The Holy Grail was the purpose behind the quests of
King Arthur
and the Knights of the Round Table.”

“Hold up?” Jay still wasn’t convinced. “The well and the springs here are indeed ancient, but the gardens aren’t.”

"No, but whoever created all of this…" she swept her hand through the air as if she was illustrating everything, not just the gardens, "the Celts, the pagans, someone not even from this plane…they knew what they were doing. They knew we would start exploring the mysteries of Avalon and they knew we would try to cash in on it. Whoever created Avalon had an intelligence that stretched way beyond the realms of our sorry piece of gristle that we call a brain. Maybe it was the Watchers themselves."