Chapter Three Part Two

The carriage rocked to a halt. Al stole a quick look at the gentleman sat beside him. He knew nothing of him. He had just been sent away and told that the man was his new master. Al didn't trust the authorities would always have his best interest at heart, he was too wise for that but what choice did he have? If he turned out to be a bad master he could always run away. Taking comfort from the thought he swallowed the tears back. The man bellowed suddenly.

"Be quick man, there is a storm coming."

The gentleman was right. Al could feel it thickening the air, making his mind foggy. The carriage swayed as the wind buffeted round it. The gentleman sat back into his seat and lent his elbow on the window sill, propping his fist under his jaw. The light from the street lamp caught the sharp angle of his jaw and the tight line of his mouth. Feeling the cold indifference leaking from the man, Al fought back a new wave of desperation. What if he couldn't run away, escape back to the work house and his mother? A wave of desperate loneliness shivered through him.

"Coming sir," the drivers voice called above the whistling wind. Al watched the driver push hard against the huge iron gates. They swung smoothly open. Leaning into the wind and holding his heart tight against his head he jogged back to the carriage.
The carriage jolted and then began to rattle as it moved forward. Al fought not to be thrown against the gentleman but the seats were sprung and he bounced violently as they rolled over the cobbles.

In the darkness he could make out the low buildings of the stable block and then a large house to his right; shadowed and lifeless but for a faint light glowing from four tall arched windows. Al thought about the coloured glass he had seen in the church windows but this was all together much grander.

"They represent the four element," the gentleman said. "You do know of the elements don't you?" Al was silent and then the gentleman sighed. "Alas they fail to educate the poor." He tilted his jaw and glanced at the windows. Taking a long breath he began. "The four elements consist of: earth, air, water and fire. They are elemental , the basis of all things. Do you understand?"

Al nodded feeling his face flush in humiliation. The gentleman shook his head in disbelief. "You have a lot to learn but for now it is enough to know that we sell animals from all the four elements," he concluded with a slight flick of his wrist.
Al wanted to ask which animals came from the element of fire but the carriage had drawn to a halt and the gentleman had gone rigid beside him. Al stared at him as uncertainty prickled across his shoulders. Looking past the gentleman he could see six black horses tethered to a large carriage.

"Clarrissa," the gentleman hissed. He span to glare at Al. "You stay in the carriage. It's important that..."

"Lasenby, my darling."

A look of dark hatred passed over the gentleman's face and then he closed his eyes and fixed a smile of his face before turning to face the woman.
In one smooth movement he unfastened the door and sprang from the carriage, blocking the woman's view inside.

"Clarrissa," he said coldly, "and what do I owe this pleasure?"

The woman shifted so that Al could see her. Her face was almost covered by a dark hood but her eyes shone from the shadows, pretty, like a cats. She smiled and then the rain began. Great wet droplets falling on her, wetting her pale cheeks as she tilted her head so she could meet Lasenby square in the eyes.

"This weather," she laughed lightly, raising the palm of her hand so the rain could bounce down onto it. "have you ever heard of such thing?" Al watched her face become serious, her eyes challenging. Lasenby was like a statue. "I see how it is to be," she breathed. She glanced at the carriage, her eyes fixing on Als. "So Lasenby, what have we here," she took a step towards Al but Lasenby moved to block her.

"I'll ask you again Clarrissa, why are you here?"

She gave a sigh and placed a hand on Lasenby's arm. "Now, now, aren't you going to show me inside? It truly is an evil wind that blows this evening."

"What you have to say to me can be said here."

She withdrew her hand quickly. "So be it. I wish to appoint your services in the procurement of the golden sphinx."

Lasenby barked a laugh at her. "I might source exotic animals for the wealthy but a sphinx, they are...."

"Magical," she whispered gazing into the darkness and the rain.
"I was going to say mythical." The sharpness of his tone brought the ladies attention back to the present.

"Mythical, magical, it's all the same. You should know that. This is such an important discovery for the Order that...."

Lasenby held up his gloved hand. "You are wasting my time Clarrissa." He turned away from her.

The woman seemed to grow in height and authority. "Consider your position as a member of the Inner Circle. It is your responsibility to go."

"I have heard enough," Lasenby said sharply. Al started as he sensed the man's eyes on him. "Inside now, and be quick about it," he ordered.

Grabbing his bag from the seat , Al swung down through the open door onto the cobbles but his mind tightened and no matter how much he wanted to move he couldn't feel his legs.

"Ah yes," the woman purred. "It seems you have found Francesca's son. She wouldn't have seen such a treasure lost to the Order."

"Do not speak of her." Lasenby's voice was tight with threat and the woman shrank away.

"Your disregard for the Order would turn her cold." The woman whispered. Lasenby's eyes narrowed, glittering dangerously.

"Get away from me witch."

"Then I have no choice but to offer you that which you crave so dearly."

Ignoring her, Lasenby grabbed Al by the elbow and forced him towards the door.
"You can have nothing that I desire."

"You are many things Lasenby but you were never a liar."

Al felt the fingers on his arm tighten and bite into his muscle. Lasenby stopped and turned back to the woman.

"Then give me what I desire."

There was a long silence. Al looked from Lasenby's cold impassive face to the woman's glittering eyes of triumph and then back again. The rain washed over them. The wind howled. Finally the woman inclined her head.

"Perhaps we should go inside," she smiled.

Chapter Three Part One

Lord Lasenby stood in the darkness. Beyond the glow of the lamp held by the Porter the room was black but for the moon that shone causing the shadows of deeper darkness. He shivered.

"Someone walk on yer grave?" the Porter said glancing over his shoulder. He gave Lasenby a toothy grin as he turned back to the room. "Or is it the boy." He mumbled. "Albert" he wheezed. "Albert, someone is wanted to see you."

A dark shape moved in the corner and Lasenby released the breath he had been holding. He dug his cane into the floor. He had waited such a long time.

The boy was small and painfully thin. His hands and head looked too little for his large frame. Great round eyes looked up at him, beneath a thick heap of curly hair. Blond Lasenby though, like his mother's. She had been beautiful and it was only fitting that her child would look something like her. Even in the shadows of the lantern Lasenby could see the boys mother in the large inquisitive eyes, the even nose and the boys mouth. His face was almost angelic and yet there was something oddly dangerous about him. He could sense it sparking in the air around him. The boy glanced up into Lasenby's face and then dropped his eyes to the ground. Lasenby realised with a jolt that there were tears in the boy's eyes.

"Will we be leaving Sir?" the boy whispered.

Lasenby glanced at the filthy bed and the tiny window covered in dirt. "Yes," he stiffly, "it is time to make something of you boy."

The boy made a little murmur. The Porter gave him a sharp crack around his ears. "Be thankful," he wheezed. "Look sharp now, the Gentleman doesn't want to be kept waiting." The Porter flicked the lantern in the direction of mattress, "get your stuff lad."
Lasenby did want to leave. He wanted to get out desperately. Not because of the guilt he was feeling for leaving the boy to this fate, or the smell, or the scurrying sound of rats; but because he could sense her. He could smell her. It was as if she had just left the room. Her voice still lingered, ringing faintly in the air. He forced himself to glance into the shadows. Involuntarily he shuddered again.

The boy was watching him. Lasenby drilled his cane into the stone floor."Be quick now," he ordered.

The boy hurried over to the bed and pulled a few bits of clothing and a pair of shoes into a pile and then knotted the corner of the blankets together to create a crude bag.

"Come now," the Porter dragged the boy up by his arm and pulled him towards the door. Lasenby followed but he paused at the door.

"Francis."

Lasenby felt his heart catch in his chest. Someone had called his name. He span round and peered into the shadows. Nothing. He turned back to the door, took a step forward and then turned to look back over his shoulder. "I'm sorry," he whispered to the moonlight.

*****

The door swung shut. The wind rattled the lose panes. It sounded like a woman crying. The rats poked their noses from under the crated and round the sacks. Beady eyes watched the door for a while, their eyes missing nothing, not even the silver shadows as it faded back into the moonlight. Finally the rats grew silent. There was just the faint sound of the wind whistling. Outside an Owl called once before it flew away. The moon slipped behind a cloud as the fog began to thicken again.

Chapter Two part Five

Al heard the key clatter into place in the lock. He glanced at the door but turned quickly back to the crack in the floor.

"Now," he felt the voice echo in his chest. It vibrated through his veins making him tremble. The voice was close to panic. Al grabbed the slab, dug his fingers beneath the stone. He felt it give but then it stuck catching his fingers on the hard cracked edge and breaking the soft skin beneath his nails. He dug again, biting his lips against the pain in his fingers as they caught on something beneath the stone. He scrabbled but the stone would not move. The rats screached in the shadows and the darkness intensified.

He delved again, fixing the tips of his fingers under the rim of the stone and yanking backwards.

Behind him the key jangled in the lock. There was a heavy clunk as the lock was released.

Al dug wildly. The moon suddenly lit the room with a white brightness. Al smelt the scent of honey bread and then the cool movement of air as if someone had passed by him. He glanced up.

"Mother," he whispered. There were tears in his eyes. It was true, he could feel her.

""Quickly," the voice urged. He felt her panic. "This is your destiny."

For a moment Al was in the past and he could see her lying on the thin mattress, her face matted by her hair. She was breathing quickly and shallowly as her fingers felt for the stone and she lifted it and hid her treasure beneath it. She smiled softly and fell back onto the blanket. She held a tiny bundle in her arms. He blinked and the memory was gone.

This time he dug urgently, not caring for the nails he ripped or the skin he shredded. He felt the hot tears of frustration on his face. She had left this for him; he knew that now.

As the door swung open, be thought he saw a patch of moonlight, beautiful, like silver mist hanging beside the door. It disappeared like a thousand miniature shooting stars falling gently to the floor.

Chapter Two part Four

"You keep a child down here?" Lasenby couldn't keep the note of surprise from his voice.

"Its extra space for when the dormatries are full, we have so many...." the Porter stopped under the accusing eye of Lasenby. "He unsettles the others," the Porter shrank away from him, shuffling ahead into the darkness. The light flickered on the sharp steps as they began to descend into the darkness.

Lasenby inhaled slowly up his nose as he held back his anger.

"I, unlike you, believe that a child's experience and education shapes the man they become. What villain do you hope to raise in this," he swang a hand in a circle to take in the heavy iron door and huge lock "place," he said finally after struggling to find the right word.

"But, but he has the Devil inside 'im, so he...."

"No. I will hear none of your nonsense. A child is like an any animal; you treat it with cruelty you get a cruel animal in return."

"No sir," the Porter's mouth sagged. The shadows from the lamp he held made his deep eyes sockets look empty like those in a skull but for the dark glint of light. He licked his lips and glanced to the side and then back again as if he feared someone might hear him. "There are rumours sir, "he knows things."

"Knows things?"

"Things he can't know," the Porter paused trying to remember things. After a while he continued. "He talks in his sleep. They say he is possessed." He nodded significantly and sniffed.

"Give me evidence," Lasenby's voice was low but there was a deadly edge to it. "Tell me exactly what justifies this treatment."




The Porter fumbled with a large iron ring. Three giant keys hung from it. He picked up one a slotted it into the lock.

Chapter Two part Three

Al turned sharply. The stone in the moonlight forgotten. He had heard voices.

Besides him the rats cut and scattered back into the shadows. Their high pitched squeals rose into the dark as Al's eyes fixed on the door.

There was a faint breath of wind. Like someone had blown gently into his face but it was cool. He felt it stir his fringe around his ears. He pushed the loose curls away with a quick swipe of his hands and glanced around the room.

The owl called outside the window. The twit ta whoo, echoed around the room. There was a sudden stillness and the shadows in the darkness grew more solid. As the moonlight intensified there was a hush on the wind. It sounded like someone calling out his name. He scanned the shadows for a moment. Confused Al turned back to the door and the voices outside. It couldn't have been them, so distant. This voice was nearer. Another draft wined through the window. It sounded so much like the urgent whisper of his name. He glanced back towards the window, the table beneath it was silver in the light but there was nothing else there. Still he felt his name lingering in the darkness.

"Hello," he called out. "Is there someone there?"

He trembled faintly in the darkness. He could still hear the muffled voices beyond the door but people were always coming to the stores to collect things. This voice was different, this voice was coming from the shadows in the room.

He felt like someone was staring at him, his eyes narrowed, picking out the deeper shadows of the storage crates and bags of oats the lay stacked in the corners. For a moment he thought he saw the moonlight shimmer and outline of a figure appear but even as he looked at it, it seemed to fade and fall back into the shaft of light.

"Hello," he called out again, less certain this time. He felt the skin tighten over his shoulders "Show yourself," he demanded. There was a low whistle as the wind blew through the gaps in the window frame. The cold air stroked his face delicately.

"Just the wind," he reassured himself but he still felt the urgency in the room. He could almost touch it. He turned back to the stone slab on the floor. He needed to find what was hidden but then the voices beyond the door became louder. He could hear footsteps on the stone steps. They were coming down, towards him.

Chapter Two part two

The Porter stopped walking through the darkness and looked up at Lasenby. This way Sir, he said holding up a lantern. A tunnel of yellow light stretched out in front if them. Lasenby thought he could see dark shapes moving beyond the light and the sound of sighing voices but he turned his steady gaze to the Porter's eyes. He searched them for signs he could distrust but all he could see was the other mans greed glinting in his small eyes.

"I trust to can be discrete." He made the threat clear in his voice. Of course silence could always be paid for. The Porter took a small step backwards, shrinking from the power of Lasenby's gaze. Then he inclined his head in agreement. All the time he rubbed his hands together.

Lasenby continued to survey the man's face. The Porter shrank back further and ran his tongue over his lips. So the man had heard things about him, Lasenby thought. Perhaps for the better.

"Why yes sir," he said finally.

Lasenby peered down at him for a moment and then gave a curt nod.

"All is well then," he smiled a tight smile. "Come now man, how can you be sure that this is the boy that I seak?"

"The dates sir, the 31st October 1888. He shivered "how can one forget. It was All Hallows eve, the night the old crone rises and then there comes a tapping at the door. I thought it was the spirits passing over that had come a knocking but..."

"Yes, yes." Lasenby scowled. "Come man, I don't need your superstitious nonsense." He glanced sideways at the man trying hard to hide the significance of the date from the Porter.

"The woman, did she give a name?"


"It took a moment sir, she was so weak like a spectre in her white gown and so frail Sir a breath of wind could have..."
"Her name" Lasenby's voice cracked. He took a deep composing breath and straightened his shoulders. The Porter's eyes sparked with a dark greed.

"You knew the lady Sir?"

Lasenby didn't like what the Porter was insinuating. He squared up his shoulders and stepped into the man's face. "Do not presume that you know anything of this business. Now did she had a name?"

"Constance," the Porter said quickly.

Lasendy's hand tightened on his cane but his face gave none of the recognition away; the fire that suddenly lit his insides, turning to cold flames.

"Good," he said stiffly. He changed the subject quickly "What did you say the boy was called?"

"Albert," the Porter said as he reached the head of some stone steps that wound down beneath the floor.

Chapter Two part One

Inside the workhouse the boy was dreaming of ghosts again. He knew she was a ghost but he forced himself to stay asleep; the ghost being his mother. The room in his dream was almost identical to the one in which he was currently lain. The same damp walls and cold stone floor. The ceiling was low with a small window placed too high in the wall for a view. In his dream the light of the moon poured through the window, it was silver and shimmered like frost on a winters morning. He couldn't see her face. It would have made little difference if he could as he wouldn't have recognised her. She had died before he was six hours old but still he knew it was her. She felt safe and smelt of warm dough and honey. He breathed her in deeply. In the real world a smile touched his lips.

"You must wake." There was an urgency in her voice that made his smile fade. "He is coming. Wake up, the time has come. The key must be found." Her voice was a whisper and yet it was high and tight with panic. The boy tossed on the thin straw stuffed mattress. "Quickly now, he is coming, he is very near."

His mind was racing back to wakefulness. The part of him that yearned for the mother he had never known, pulled back towards the warm smell and saftey of her. Another part of him, the determined part that fought the misery, cold and hunger of daily life in the workhouse understood. He needed to wake up. Yet it would be so easy to just stay in the darkness. Live in his dreams. In this world he was free.

"Wake up," she cried with such anguish his eyes flew open and his body jolted awake.

He blinked. The urgency of the dream still racing through his body, he lay panting for a moment trying to remember what was so important and urgent. Turning on hus side he regarded the same round window of his dreams only this one had eleven years of dust and grime covering the small panes of glass. He blinked again and strained to open his eyes wide while he yawned.

Outside an Owl hooted. His mind became instantly focused, his body alert. His mother's voice rose in his mind but it was muffled like he was listening under water and he couldn't make out her words. He struggled to drag the dream back. Was something lost, something that had to be found? He glanced around the room. There was a circle of moonlight on the floor at the end of his bed. Deep shadows moved around it. Holding his breath he strained to hear but there was just faint scratching noises coming from beneath the crates that lined the room.

"Rats" .

There was no note of dislike in his voice. Unlike other occupiers of the workhouse, that viewed the beady eyed and scaly tailed creatures with a mixture of fear and revulsion, the boy felt an odd kinship. They had as much right to life and comfort as he did. He eyed one now as it scurried forward into the patch of moonlight, it's nose quivering.

"Odd." He watched as it stepped forward to the edge of the moonlight and hesitated. It lifted its nose to the air, sniffed and waited. A second rat appeared by its side. The first rat gave a high pitched squeal and then dashed across the floor towards him. It settled beside his matteress and looked at him, definitely looked at him, its tiny eyes glittering, its body shaking with urgency.

"What little fella, you want some food. I have nothing for you." The boy was then distracted by the secind rat as it scampered In circles beside the moonlight, it's little claws tap tapping on the stone flagged floor.

He watched fascinated. They were obviously agitated over something. He has never known them to be so bold. The rat stopped running in circles, gave a shrill cry and looked over at him.

The boy's heart stopped. Its was trying to show him something, he was sure of it. The animal gave a shiver and then darted across the floor towards him. Again it came to an abrupt halt at the end of the mattress. It squealed a high pitch scream but it didn't run away. Both rats he noted had skirted the pool of light as if refusing to pass through it or tread on the stone tile in the floor which was bathed in moonlight. It was the cracked, lose one that wobbled when he stood on it. It had wobbled for as long as he could remember.

Rising onto his elbows he peered at the end of the bed. His movements didn't seem to bother the rats they just continued to run this way and that.

Outside an Owl called. The boy paused and listened. The memory of his dream tugging at his mind . He felt his mother and for a moment there was the warm yeasty smell of bread that made him hunger for more than food. He blinked looking around him. Something was lost, he was sure of it. Suddenly the atmosphere in the cellar was tight with urgency. His heart jumped and raced in his chest.

Something wasn't lost, it was hidden.

"Be quick". The boy was sure he had heard the words even though he knew there was no one else in the room beside him.

The Owl called again.

He sensed the shadows moving. Was it the rats? He looked down just as one stepped forward, tentatively onto the wobbling slab of stone. Its fur shone silver in the beem of light. The rat's nose quivered over the crack. It appeared to freeze as if terrified by something and then it retreated and ran scampering into the darkness.

"What?" the boy whispered. It wasn't that he believed animals could talk to him. He really wasn't that type to indulge in such flights of fantasy but he was conscious that through careful observation you could come to understand a creature. There was obviously something bothering the creatures. He began to edge down the bed towards the crack in the floor.

Chapter One part Two

The Hansome cab rattled under the iron arch of the gateway, barley missing the stone gateposts that stood either side of the entrance. The fog swirled around the court yard but with the moons light it had turned the vapour into a shallow white sea. The carriage swung in a wide arc and drew to a halt beyond the tall wooden doors.

The Porter swallowed his fear and focused on the guinees he would soon have in his pocket. He would be rich. "Rich" he wheezed in the darkness. But how rich? That would depend on exactly how important the boy was to Lasendby. Licking his cracking lips, he reasoned that people who came to buy apprentices from the poor house certainly didn't come in the night - not usually. He wrapped one gnarled hand over the other, wringing them together as he watched the horse dance impatiently outside. He would need to be careful of Lasenby if the rumours were true.

Glancing over his shouder, his peered into the shadows. Pausing to listen and only when he was sure that there was no one watching, he shuffled through the door and down the stone steps to the yard.

"Lasenby, I have been expecting you," he dropped into a low bough beside the cab.

The door of the Hansome cab swung open and a polished shoe stepped onto the footplate. A grey gloved hand clasped the door frame and then a top hat appeared. Slowly Lasenby raised his head, his eye catching the moonlight and turning them momentarily silver, like a cats in the night. The Gentleman blinked and the Porter suppressed a shudder.

"I received your message," Lasenby said. The Porter felt the gentleman's eyes slide over his face like it was searching out the secrets of his soul. Rumours dark doings filled his mind but he pushed them away quickly. Magic and the occult might be the fad of the rich and famous but where he came from, money was what mattered. Lasenby's wanted something he had and that meant it had a price. Trying to avoid the penetration of the mans eyes the Porter gestured to the steps.

"Please this way sir," he said trying to school the sudden thought of wealth from his face.

The horse danced and the small carriage rocked but Lasenby remained seated.

"You have the boy?"

"Yes, yes," the Porter hissed gently "oh yes." He turned, shuffled up the steps and waited in the shadows of the door. He could feel Lasenby's gaze on him. Almost hungry, he thought and suppressed a smile before turning to beckon the Gentleman inside.

The horse shifted it's weight, the harness danced and jingled. For a heartbeat the Porter thought the man might ask the driver to move on and his chance of a furtune would disappear but then Lasenby gave a curt nod.

"Keep the beast still man," he ordered swinging down from the carriage. Straightening to his full height the Porter was glad he was stood at the top of the stairs. The broad shoulders of the man and his height made him instantly intimidating and that would never do for the bartering of a price.

Lasenby walked to the front of the cab and handed the driver some coins. The moonlight glinted on the polished metal. "Wait here for my return," he said fixing the driver with his irradecent gaze. The man nodded slowly but his face looked confused. The Porter narrowed his eyes, suspiscion began to burn inside him. He needed to be very careful, but he wasn't going to let Lasenby work any mind games on him.

Crack.

The Porter's attention jummped to the cane in the gentleman's hand. It still seemed to vibrate with the force of striking the stone cobbles at Lasenby's feet.

"Well take me to the child then," Lasenby instructed. The Porter inclined his head,

"Financial compensation will be required for the loss of a worker."

Lasenby tapped the metal base of the cane against the stones.

"There will be no talk of money before I see the boy," he said with conviction but the Porter could see the man's hands tightening on the head of the cane.

Suppressing a smile of triumph the Porter backed away into the building.

"In that case you must follow me."

Chapter One part one

The thick fog had made night fall early. The street was deserted. Tall houses crowded over the cobbled road. A row of street lamps lined the pavement as it disappeared into the fog. A man lifted a long pole up to one of the lamps. On the end of the pole was a flame. The thin slither of light caught the wick inside the glass case; it flickered before the flame glowed brilliant white. For a moment it burnt intensely and then settled to a constant yellow glow. The glass door to the lamp was pushed closed and the hook at the end of the pole set the catch back in place.The man turned to the small boy at his side.

"Hear that?" He rested the pole into the cruck of his arm and cocked his head; lifting his ear towards a far-off sound. For a moment both man and boy strained to hear. The fog muffled the sound but eventually the boy nodded. Together they listened to the distant clatter of hooves striking the cobbled street as it got louder and louder. "Strange," the man said narrowing his eyes at the fog, "you don't often get people out on a night like this".

boy blinked under the shadow of his peaked cap.

"Detiny?"

But before the man had time to explain another horse appeared on the road. This one made no sound. Its feet were carefully bound by padded leather boots. It moved swiftly, like no horse the Lamplighter had ever seen. It seemed to float above the ground, its great neck bent in a proud arch of black muscle. The rider's top hat was pressed well down so that the shadows of the brim covered his face. His dark riding coat splayed across the horses back. Even the animal's tail, held high, was covered by the dark fabric. In an instant the soundless riders was past them, swallowed by the dark shadows.

"Did you see that?" the man asked the boy afraid that his eyes had tricked him. The boy nodded, his eyes wide with fear.

"Nothing good comes of a horse with feet wrapped to silence them." The man touched the boy at the elbow, "Come now lad, this isn't the night to be caught gawping at things that don't concern us". The boy nodded his mouth still hanging open. The man, urged the boy to his feet. "Come lad, be quick."