Glastonbury Swan, Chapter One

1 Acquisition

The Killer

They say that a friend is someone who will help you move. A good friend is someone who will help you move a body. Only your very best friends will help you commit a murder.

I’m grateful that Tim, Stuart and Alicia are my very best friends. Pity they are being duped. I would rather it were not so, but I have no choice. But by the time they find out, I will be a very long way away, unrecognisable to them, and starting my new life.

My journey began the day I took possession of The Book, although my dissatisfaction and desire to make my life better again started long before that. The Book was merely the means by which I obtained my answers; and found out what it was that I had to do to get the life I wanted so badly.

**

They said that Raven Darkblood was over a thousand years old, and that she had been a devotee of the Dark Goddess since before the fall of the Roman Empire. I didn’t believe the thousand-years-old story, and even despised those who were stupid enough to admit that they did; but I was intrigued by what I’d heard about Raven Darkblood. I wanted to know how she managed to get people to believe she really was that old. Her powers of persuasion must have been incredible, and I wanted to know how she did it. I could use some of her techniques to get people to do what I wanted.

However old she was, her books and writings about the Dark Goddess Path always resonated with me. Given the publication dates on some of them, she must be pushing a hundred, and she was still writing; still speaking in public. Raven Darkblood was coming to address the Dark Goddess Conclave in Britain. And I had managed to get tickets.

As Alicia and I took our seats at the secret venue in the remote countryside, the buzz of anticipation of the people around me - Raven Darkblood’s worshippers - had me quivering with excitement. I was hoping that Raven was going to share the secret of her extraordinarily long life. I wanted to hear how she backed up those outrageous claims.

The lights dimmed and a little woman strode purposefully onto the stage. There was a shocked gasp from the audience. This could not be Raven Darkblood, surely? I had expected an ancient crone, but she looked no older than twenty-five. Her hair was a lustrous blue-black and fell in loose waves to her slender waist. She hoisted herself onto the high stool at the centre of the stage and crossed her slim legs, revealing tiny feet in navy blue velvet pumps. She looked for all the world like a young woman waiting hopefully for a man to buy her a drink in a club. This slip of a girl couldn’t be the Dark Goddess’s Highest Priestess on Earth, could she? Surely this was a young acolyte standing in for her.

The woman spoke the invocation and welcomed everyone to the meeting. It was not the voice of a twenty-five-year-old. It was deep, resonant and ageless. As she went on to expound the theme of the Dark Goddess throughout history, every person in the room was held completely in her thrall. She spoke of the deities of the Maya, the Aztecs, Babylon, Greece and Rome with all the authority of someone who had actually been there.

My scepticism melted away as I listened to her, and I became convinced that all her claims were absolutely true. Her powers of persuasion were so compelling that they had even worked on me. She ended her speech with these words:

'I know there will be those who have listened to my teachings today and wonder how I got to be so old while looking so young. Well, one of you will soon be the recipient of my knowledge. Part of the condition of the spell which made me as I am is that, a thousand years after its casting, I pass the knowledge on to a worthy successor. All I will say now is that it takes fourteen difficult and arduous months to complete. The right person, however, will not shy away from what must be done, any more than I did. I know beyond any doubt that that person is here in this room, tonight. The Dark Goddess has told me so. You will be wondering how I propose to make my choice, of course.'

She paused and scanned the rows of people with her deep green eyes.

'As the Dark Goddess admires material wealth, I will now auction the spell book to the highest bidder.'

There was a gasp from the audience. Raven Darkblood continued. 'Before we begin, I must point out that there are some conditions to the sale. You must be able to pay me within seven days. If I am not paid what I am promised here today at the end of one week, I will bring down a curse on the head of the prospective buyer and their descendants for as long as their line shall endure!'

There were angry murmurs from people who could easily have raised millions - given more time. I realised I was in with a chance, because I had just banked the proceeds of the sale of my parents' legacy to me - the family home in London. A substantial sum was still sitting in my current account, since I had not yet got around to investing it.

The bidding started at £5,000 and briskly rose in £5,000 increments to £460,000. Gradually, bidders dropped out until the only two left were an old woman in a black felt hat with a hooked nose which made her look like a crow, and myself.

My heart was pumping wildly as I realised how badly I wanted this. It would make my wildest dreams come true. 'I have £465,000,' Raven Darkblood acknowledged the Crow as she touched her long nose. 'Do I have £470,000?' I raised my hand. That was my inheritance gone. '£470,000 bid. Do I have £475,000?' The Crow touched her nose, but I wasn’t out yet. I had some other savings in a seven day access account. We continued to battle it out until I reached the limit of my accessible savings. 'Do I have £605,000?' Raven said, looking at the Crow. I willed her to back down, and I saw her hesitate. Yes. No - she was touching her nose again. I was beaten. Unless... The hesitation was surely a sign that the Crow was close to her limit. If I could just raise an extra £10,000. If I could sell my car... Raven was looking at me. What would she do to me if I failed to pay what I’d promised? I kept my nerve.

'£610,000,' I said. After all, it was not as if I had any descendants to worry about.

'£615,000,' the Crow said. I shook my head. I was out of the race.

Alicia squeezed my hand as I sat down, just wanting to cry. Anger and jealousy welled up inside of me as I watched the Crow walk up to the stage. Why, the old bitch would probably die of old age before she could complete the fourteen month process Raven had spoken of. I gave her the evil eye as she hobbled up to the stage. I wished she’d die now, so that as second bidder, the book would be mine. It had to be now. If there was another auction in a few weeks, others would be forewarned and would have liquidated their considerable assets. This would be my only chance.

As The Crow mounted the steps, she slowed and stopped. Her eyes glazed over and her jaw went slack. She fell. She fell backwards onto the aisle, her head hitting the wooden floor with a sickening crack. I looked at Alicia and her eyes met mine. We were both thinking the same thing. Had I - we - somehow made this happen?

A couple of people in the front row leapt to their feet and tried to help her. The people in the rows further back stood and craned their necks to see what was happening. Raven Darkblood sat perfectly still on the stage, impassive, immutable. She seemed bored with the chest thumping and mouth-to-mouth breathing as they attempted to revive the old woman. Raven picked at a piece of white fluff on the sleeve of her navy blue velvet gown.

Finally, one of the first-aiders pronounced, 'She’s gone.'

'Most inconvenient,' Raven said. Her voice was icy. 'It means, though, that she was never the Dark Goddess’s intended recipient.' She stood up and walked to the edge of the stage. Her ageless, fathomless eyes found mine. We stood there, gazes locked. Raven Darkblood seemed to be scanning my very soul to see if I was worthy.

'Hmmm. You,' she said at last. 'You will do whatever it takes. I see it in your soul. I think you are truly the one. Come here to me.' It seemed I had passed her test. I was worthy. The Crow was not.

I got to my feet, my knees trembling. Alicia squeezed my hand again as I edged past her and into the aisle. I feared that as I drew closer, Raven Darkblood would deem me not worthy after all and would strike me down, too.

I hardly knew how I managed to reach the stage, but suddenly I was standing in front of the Highest Priestess of the Dark Goddess Herself, smelling her spicy, exotic perfume. Not taking her eyes from mine, she snapped her fingers. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw an acolyte walk onto the stage carrying a tray covered in a black velvet cloth.

'This book is yours,' she said. 'You seem to have the fire in your belly that you will need for this task.' Her eyes released mine and she lifted the cloth to reveal an ancient tome, bound in faded, pitted leather, and held closed with an ornate brass clasp. 'You will be the custodian of this knowledge, and I look forward to welcoming you as my sister.'

I reached out to take the book, but Raven snapped her fingers again and the acolyte withdrew so that the book was just out of my reach. 'Not so fast,' she hissed at me, like an angry, venomous snake. 'There is first the small matter of the £610,000 you owe me. When I receive payment, and only then, will you be able to hold this book in your hands. You are dismissed, for now. I will expect your payment, by five o’clock next Saturday, and not one moment later.'

I stumbled back to my seat, wondering if I would be able to sell my car within a week and what would happen to me if I didn’t.

Alicia leaned over and whispered in my ear, 'I’ll give you £10,000 towards it if you will share what’s in that book with me.'

'It’s a deal,' I said, hardly believing my luck that I would not have to sell my little car after all.

Seven days later, Raven Darkblood’s bank account was overflowing and mine was empty.

A day after that, a motorcycle courier in black leathers arrived at my door. I took the precious package from him and when I had signed for it, carried it carefully through to my kitchen. As I went, I caught sight of myself in a mirror on the wall, and, as usual, shuddered. The woman I saw there could not be me. I pulled a face at the sallow complexion that had once been rosy; the salt and pepper hair that had once been the colour of ebony; the sagging breasts that had once been pert, the thick waist that had once been slim, giving me the shape of a fine violin. Now I resembled a giant sausage. The skin around my eyes and mouth crinkled when I smiled, something which happened rarely nowadays. There hadn’t been much for me to smile about for a very long time.

It was most unsatisfactory - but now, as before, when something in my life had been less than satisfactory, I was going to do something about it. Things were going to change, to be as they used to be, no matter what the cost. The answer was inside the parcel I was holding.

I clutched it tightly to my chest as I crossed the kitchen. My kitchen had a rustic look to it - a red tiled floor with a rag rug I had made myself when I’d first moved to Glastonbury and lived in the little flat off Benedict Street. In the centre was a large pine table piled high with papers, books, jars of herbs and remnants of numerous failed or abandoned projects. The window, framed by fussy chintz curtains, which I’d inherited from the previous owners of the house, looked out over Wearyall Hill, where, if I leaned out of the window and craned my neck, I could just about see the Holy Thorn. The units were of distressed wood, and a couple of the doors hid the fact that genuine rustic living wasn’t entirely to my taste - one hid a washing machine, another, a dishwasher.

I placed the box on the kitchen table and opened it, carefully removing the protective tissue wrapping. I lifted out the heavy, leather-bound tome that lay inside, and placed it carefully on the table. I sat down and looked at it, hardly daring to breathe. I was about to discover what I needed to do to make my life better. I wiped my hands on my skirt and opened the book. The paper was so old and thin that I feared it would crumble in my hands before I could access the secrets it held. With reverence, and a deep breath, I began to read.

As I carefully turned the pages, my mouth fell open as the enormity of what I was going to have to do became clear. It was, as Raven Darkblood had said, a difficult and arduous task, much more so than I had thought. Fourteen months in all. The components I required to complete the spell had to be found and procured at the correct times and in the correct places - I was quite sure I would not be able to do it without help. I was not sure there was anyone I could fully trust. Not with this.

Close to tears, I closed the book. It was impossible. I had spent all that money only to find out that the ultimate cost was far too high. I sat on my sofa and sobbed, because I knew I could never do what the spell required of me. I had spent my inheritance and all my savings on information I could not use. I would not stay young and beautiful forever, or win back what was truly mine.

Then my doorbell rang. Alicia. She stood on my doorstep clutching her handbag.

'Has it come yet?' She asked, eagerly, her eyes bright with excitement. She had the manner of a little girl asking if Santa had been yet.

'Yes,' I said, flatly. 'It’s come.'

'You don’t sound very excited,' Alicia admonished, 'given that you’ve just been handed the secret of eternal youth. I thought you’d be happier than this!'

'You haven’t seen what it is I have to do,' I said. 'It’s impossible.'

'It can’t be impossible. Raven Darkblood did it, after all.'

'Well, I’m not Raven Darkblood and this is the twenty-first century, not the dark ages.'

'I’ll help you,' Alicia said. 'I’ve invested in this, too, remember. I want it, too. Let me help.'

'You really don’t know what you’ll be getting into.'

'I don’t care. I’ll do anything.'

'It’s hard. It’s dangerous. One mistake and... I can’t ask it of you.'

'Let me read the book and be the judge of whether I can do it or not. I’ve got a lot more guts than you think.'

'Okay,' I agreed. 'You can read the spell. And if you do decide you can’t do this, I’ll find a way to pay back that money you gave me.'

'It won’t be necessary,' Alicia said, stepping into my house. 'Trust me.'

She followed me into the kitchen and I opened the book at the appropriate page, turning it so she could read it. I watched her carefully as she did so. I saw her eyes widen and her slender hand fly to her mouth, heard her gasp. She carried on reading, pushing a strand of her flaming red hair behind her ear as I had often seen her do when she was concentrating hard on something.

After what seemed like an age, she looked up and met my eyes. 'You’re right. It’s not easy,' she said. 'I see what you mean. But I will help you. I want to be young forever, too. More than anything. We can do this. We can do it together.'

Glastonbury Swan

Every few weeks, there is a mysterious death in Glastonbury. They seem completely unrelated - an apparent suicide, a hit and run, a drug overdose, a magic act which goes horribly wrong - but is that what the killer wants people to think?

The police are certainly convinced - but one of the victims is communicating to medium Tabitha Drake that the deaths are linked.

Who is killing all these people and why? 

This is what Tabitha has to figure out - before it is too late to save someone very dear to her.

Paperback CreateSpace or Amazon

E-book Amazon Kindle

Glastonbury Swan is a sequel to my novel, Death and Faxes. You don't need to have read Death and Faxes in order to enjoy or understand Glastonbury Swan. Just be warned that if you are intending to read both, that Glastonbury Swan could contain spoilers.

If you want to check out Death and Faxes as well, here are the deets:

Paperback - CreateSpace or Amazon 

Or get the E-book: Amazon Kindle (Where you can use the "Look Inside" function and read the first few pages for free!)