Beautiful Freaks (6 page)

“Thank you, it’
s
fabulous
.” Kaspian ran his hand up the length of
the
black ivory cane and allowed his palm to caress the smooth
,
round end. It was amazingly tactile and Kaspian thought that he had never felt anything so gloriously sensual in all of his life.

“And here,” Heartlock handed over the last of the gifts, “…acknowledgement
that
you are
now
your own man and entitled to your own opinions.”

Kaspian unwrapped the parcel to
discover
a leather
bound v
ersion of Oscar Wilde’s poetry, j
ust the right size to slip into
his
pocket.

Something about the gifts filled Kaspian with a sadness that he could not fathom. Somehow these offerings felt like tokens of goodbye. “Would you like me to leave?
” he asked. “
I mean
,
would you prefer for me to move out now that your legal guardianship is over?”

“Goodness, no, Kaspian!
This is your home. It will always be your home – even when I am gone.” Heartlock returned to his egg. Clearly the outpourings of sentimentality had reached the limit of comfort for the man of reason. “W
hen you have eaten, you really o
ught to read your legal correspondence.”

Kaspian looked ov
er at the thick cream envelopes, e
ach tied with a red silk ribbon. Heartlock
’
s solicitor had called
in on the previous
night to deliver them but Kaspian had not been i
nvited to join the discussion, as t
he study door had remained unusually closed. Inside
those innocuous envelopes Kaspian
knew there would be the legacie
s left to him from his parents.

The sight of the letters turned Kaspian’s breakfast to ash
,
and at last he gave up on his eggs and bacon in order to face his new adult life. As
he
reached out for his pile of letters, Heartlock made his apologies and left him to his privacy.

The first letter was the usual
legal stuff
,
informing him that on the occasion of his eighteenth birthday, his inheritance, a fortune of nearly twenty
-
five thousand
pounds would be released to him,
along with the family estate to the value of fifty thousand pounds
,
and various bonds and stocks. The total amount would mean Kaspian would be wealthier than he
ever
imagined possible.

The second letter was in a graceful hand that he did not recognise. It looked like the handwriting of a woman. It was sealed with unbroken wax.

Darling boy,

I am writing this letter
on the day of your birth. I hope with all my heart that you never have a need for it to be delivered to you, as surely it will mean that I have passed.

The thought of me not seeing you grow into
a
man saddens me beyond
all
measure. Know that you
are
loved with a mother’s full and endless heart.

I hope I get the opportunity to r
eveal the
secrets
this letter contains to you personally on the day of your
eighteenth
birthday,
but if circumstances divide us then this letter will have to serve a poor substitute.

As a great and clever man
once
said, “There are more
things in heaven and Earth…”

It is for this reason it is important to always keep your mind open to the impossible. Although our world travels on the wings of great scientific progress, there is still an eternity of discoveries to be made. It is a brave man who dares to suggest the impossible is possible. And although some will find such a man to be a genius, others will mock him or harm him for his discoveries. Just remember that the one unchanging thing is truth.

If you are in need of this letter, it is because you are under the guardianship of our
dear friend Erazmus Heartlock. H
e is the purest man you could hope to know. He was chosen as your guardian because your father and I know that you must have your eyes opened to the mysteries of the universe before your own special gifts develop.

You are bound to be beautiful ~ dark-
eyed, dark
-
haired. Perhaps
you will be
a little too willowy; you will never make a boxer! You will feel different from the moment you are old enough to understand the human race and on occasion this may make you lonely.

Sometimes you will find yourself in places that you never remember walking
to
and you will shake your head, maybe smile to yourself, thinking you have been daydreaming
~ but
you will also think it strange how you have arrived at the place you were imagining. Part of you will question how you could travel so far and not have a recollection of travelling.

The truth is, like your father, and his father before him,
you are a Phantom: A being that can travel through air, through objects, through the space of dreams, arriving in any destination, or alongside any being you wish. The only limitation is that your physical body must have been to the place before or, if it is an individual you wish to seek, then they must have invited you to join them.

It is a great gift but it is a dangerous one. It can be used for great good or for great harm. It gives you the purest form of free will available. No ropes can bind you, no prisons can hold you, so you must police your own soul; choose your own path.

Regardless of our gifts, I believe
you
are still creatures of God ~
you
still have a soul. You must protect it because one day you will have to face your God and account for your life. Although a phantom will not age
past his twenty-fourth birthday,
a phantom is still mortal. A phantom can die.

Beware of witch balls, of bottles, of silver and of mirrors ~ in fac
t anything with reflections, or
anything in which you might find yourself eternally trapped. This includes the human heart! If you place yourself within the heart of a human, when they die, so do you.

Heartlock is a good man:
A man with a strong and firm belief in God and good. Trust him. He has spent his whole life dedicated to the destruction of evil. It is how
your father and I
first met him.

I hope the future brings both of you unlimited love and happiness.

With enduring love, always

Mama x

Kaspian Blackthorne’s life suddenly turned on a spindle. He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the sound of a million questions speaking all at once.
He needed to leave – to get away from this terrible truth. He sought out a safe memory in his mind – a way to escape the looming insanity.
When he opened them, he found himself sat on the beach at Hastings. It was the only beach he could recollect having visited, and the sense of une
nding space had never left him.

4

OAK GRAVE

“Sir?”

Brown
made his way into the office on the tips of his toes, anxious of disturbing the
Inspector.

“Yes, what is it?” Steptree punctuated his question with a heavy sigh.

“I’m afraid, Sir… there has been another one.”

“Another what,
Brown
? What horrors do you come to drag me off to witness now?”

Steptree sounded
uncharacteristically
irritated. He removed his glasses and pressed the flesh at the top of his nose. He was tired. The baby was teething and he hadn’t had a decent
night’s
sleep in over a week. Even when he did finally manage to drift to sleep, he couldn’t escape the image of the frozen boy. It had been the most be
autiful and haunting thing he’
d ever seen
, y
et it seemed to have left him with a physical pain in his heart that wouldn’t shift
,
as
if a needle had lodged itself into
its
warm tissue
.

“I think we had better go. Chester is waiting for us, Sir.”

“Has the Ice Queen kissed again?”

“No …
not quite.”
Brown
said as he gathered Steptree’s coat and hat from the stand.

*

It was early evening
in the city
;
the quiet time between
work and play.
It was
also dinnertime
and Steptree thought with
further
irritability that he was missing his Wednesday night dinn
er of kidneys in cream,
his favourite meal of the week.

Yet again, Brown had refused to give any more details than the location of the crime scene. Steptree would have to challenge him about this at some point. He hated ‘surprises’ and the shock of the unexpected at the last incident had left him reeling. He consoled himself with the idea that nothing could be more weird or eerie than the last case, and convinced himself that he was ready to face whatever was awaiting him.

By the time they arrived at the Thames
-
side pleasure gardens, the police had created a
cordon, which along with the crime scene also contained a h
andful of witnesses
.
Outside, a few straggling spectators were dealt with firmly, and instructed to be on their way before they felt the thick end of truncheon.
Steptree was taken aback by the level of aggression towards the spectators
– normally a murder scene was a free theatre show. Clearly whatever had happened, Chester was very keen on keeping it secret. Steptree looked at the strange yellow ribbon, which had been strung between trees to make a cordon. The police officer guarding it saw the questioning look on Steptree’s face and offered by way of explanation, “It were the only thing we could get. Got it off a passing gypsy.”

Steptree nodded and dipped under it, leaving Brown to talk to the guard.

Chester greeted him with a raised eyebrow and a grimace, “Evening, Steppers!”

“Chief!” Steptree said as he scanned the area for the corpse. Despite taking in a wide area of the lawns and flowerbeds he couldn’t see anything. Before he had a chance to question the Chief, a series of shouts came from a nearby oak tree. The calls sent the Chief waddling over.

“Don’t panic, Sir. We’ll
have you out of there very soon!
” Chester called to the tree.

A solid looking police constable
,
who was
wieldi
ng a mean looking axe, slammed the blade in
to th
e ancient flesh of the tree causing t
errible cries of dist
ress to come from within.

“What
in God’s name
is
going on
?” Steptree
asked the nearest police constable.

“There’s a man in the tree.” The reply was given with an absurdly normal tone.

“Sorry,” Steptree shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, “I thought you just told me there was a man in that tree.” He pointed to the tree to stress his point of disbelief.

“Aye, Sir – that’s right. A man’s in that tree.”

Steptree couldn’t help but snort a laugh, “Don’t be preposterous
.
”

“No japes, Sir. There’
s a man in that tree I tell you.”

Another chop and another scream caused Steptree to take the dramatic action of yelling, “STOP!” A hush rippled through the scene.

The policeman stopped mid-swing, nearly throwing him off balance and leading to a titter of laughter from the waiting witnesses. Chester walked over, speaking as he paced, “What’s that Steppers?”

Steptree took in a deep breath before saying, “I asked you all to kindly stop, and tell me, for the love of God, what the hell is going on.”

“I say, old chap, no need to get all blasphemous on us.” Chester fished in his pocket for his pipe.

“No, quite – sorry, but surely you can understand that a fellow might be a little … confused by what the hell is going on.”

“CARRY ON, PHILLIPS!” Chester ordered before turning to Steptree. “
There’s been reports
that the tree there has swallowed a young man.”