The Collector Book One: Mana Leak (17 page)

He headed down the garden path.

“B-bye,” she said, rubbing her agonising head. She watched him open the garden gate and walk out onto the street. He dipped his hat in greeting to Joe, who had arrived back from his run.

Giving a short reply, Joe ran past him and bounded up the garden to join his grandmother on the porch. His skin glistened with sweat, and his breathing beat rapid and deep.

“Has he just been here?” he asked through his panting.

Eleanor nodded, still rubbing her head.

“Jeez, Grandma, are you all right? You’ve gone pale.”

“Just…a headache. Nothing to…nothing to worry about.”

“Let’s get you inside.”

He held her gently by the elbow and guided her back into the hall. Together, they entered the lounge.

“You have a lie down,” Joe ordered, “and I’ll get you some pain killers.”

“I’ll be fine,” she insisted. “You don’t have to worry so much!”

He led her over to the sofa and gradually lowered her down.

“I’ll be two minutes. Call if you need me.”

“Stop fussing, Joseph.”

Joe left the room.

Although the clamp-like headache had eased slightly, Eleanor decided she did need a lie down after all. She reached over for the
Encyclopaedia of the Unexplained
that lay on the sofa where Hearnsworth had left it. She placed it on top of the stack of books on the coffee table. The heavy volume slipped from her weak grip and tumbled to the floor, flopping open. The pages splayed apart.

Cursing to herself, she left the book on the floor and lay back on the sofa, a pillow supporting her throbbing head.

A migraine. Today of all days.

Unsure how to contact Arthur’s spirit without more research, the thought of reading a mere paragraph brought a frustrated nausea.

“Arthur,” she whispered, hoping Joe wouldn’t come in. “If you can hear me, just hang on. I’m trying my best and soon, dear…”

Her thoughts wandered to James Elliot Hearnsworth. The things he’d said seemed even stranger than his appearance.
Between them they could end this haunting.
Why would he be so keen to exorcise the ghost of her dead husband? She also made a mental note to speak to Anne Harper when she was feeling better. If there had been other complaints, like Hearnsworth mentioned, maybe she had experienced something too. And what was it that Hearnsworth had been so interesting in finding? Mana. What did he mean by that?

Joe strode back in, interrupting her train of thought. He’d changed into dry and clean T-shirt and shorts. He carried a small glass of water and a packet of painkillers.

“Here you are,” he said, handing her the drink. “Sit down and take two of these.”

“There’s really no need to bother, I’m feeling a little better already.”

“Well, these might shift it altogether,” said Joe, popping two white tablets free of the foil.

Giving up the argument, Eleanor took the pills, more to stop him fretting than to soothe her headache. The pain receded by the second.

“One of your books is on the floor,” said Joe, bending over to pick up the open encyclopaedia. “Do you want it now?”

“Not yet, Joseph. I might have a nap before I start again.”

Joe didn’t seem to be listening. He stared into the open book, jaw hanging down. After a moment, he licked his lips and cleared his throat.

“Grandma?”

“Yes, dear?”

“That man…”

“Yes?”

“What was his name?”

“Hearnsworth. James Elliot Hearnsworth. Why?”

He looked down at the book again.

“Because either Mr Hearnsworth has a twin, or he’s here in your book.”

“Nonsense! Let me see.”

Joe turned the book around.

Eleanor received the book for a closer inspection of the blurry photograph.

The picture showed a country lane at twilight with lush green fields on either side. In the distance, just below the horizon, stood a figure dressed in black, illuminated by a fire at the side of the road.

It can’t be a fire - the flames are blue.

“My lord,” she said, bringing the book even closer to her face.

Despite the distance and the bad quality of the photograph, she spied the bright red hair and bowler hat of the figure.

“It couldn’t be…” She looked up at Joe. “Could it?”

“What does it say underneath?”

“The only known photograph of a
man in black
taken in Devon in 1980. There was supernatural activity in the area at the time. The blue flames remain a mystery.”

“Weird,” said Joe. “How old do you think he was?”

“I don’t know,” said Eleanor, still studying the picture. “He looked young, but the way he spoke…if this was taken back in the early eighties, he must be older than he looks.”

“What did he want?” Joe asked, helping himself to a biscuit from the plate on the tea tray.

“He said he was a paranormal investigator, here to deal with the supernatural presence on the street.”

“Sounds like a crack pot to me,” said Joe. “Better keep an eye on him if he’s hanging around.”

2.

The Collector stomped up the road, grinding his teeth.

A simple retrieval had already turned into more work, and he’d planned to be back in the City by the afternoon. The old woman knew more than she let on, of course. But no matter how much he’d poked around in her mind, the nugget of information he sought had been held from him, like a mental door had been closed, and he’d merely smashed his fists against it. The probing had hurt her more than intended, but thinking back, he grinned.

Serves the old wench right for making my day difficult.

He considered another alternative. The McGuire woman might have been telling the truth. She might not know where the mana was. He found that hard to swallow.

He pulled his bowler further down on his head. The sun burned bright, but thankfully not as bright as the suns in the city. He stood for a while, enjoying the scene. Green wasn’t an abundant colour back in the City.

It would be a shame to ruin such a pleasant place
.
Lucky that I have two more appointments to go. Surely someone will enlighten me to the mana’s location.

Checking both ways, he crossed the street. From the level of quiet, he believed Montgomery was behaving and still inside the shed they’d found. The last thing he needed at this stage was Montgomery running riot and terrorising the street.

Well, not yet anyway. But I’m sure he’s getting hungry by now.

With a spring in his step, he headed towards the next house. Judging by its state of disrepair, his confidence soared.

Aren’t the needy the easiest to persuade?

3.

The Dean boys had become very resourceful over the years. Since their father passed away and the money had started to dry up, anything that they needed was found, traded or simply taken. Adam sat on an old sofa they’d discovered in a skip. They’d taken one of their mother’s blankets to cover it, and this also helped to block the damp smell. Jake sat on the edge of a worn, brown armchair. Between them lay a makeshift table crafted from milk crates and a large square of wood, its surface covered in cans of lager, loose cigarettes and playing cards. Both twins studied their hands.

“I need two,” said Jake, tossing a couple of cards on the littered table. Adam slid him two more over. Jake picked them up and grinned.

“Did you even hear him come in? You know, yesterday?”

“Obviously,” said Jake, still contemplating his cards. “That’s why I let him push us in the wardrobe.”

“Eh?”

“Of course I didn’t hear him! For fuck’s sake, Adam…”

Adam shrank back on the sofa and considered his next move in the game.

“You any ideas who it was?” asked Jake, his voice returning to a quieter volume.

“He sounded familiar, so I think we know him. I take it you want some payback.”

“He locked us in a wardrobe for five hours. He’s got it coming. I’ll see you a fag.”

Jake reached into his shirt pocket and threw a cigarette onto the table.

“Same and raise,” said Adam, adding another two. He swigged his beer.

“You know who I think it could be?” said Jake.

“Who?”

“That arsehole from over the road.”

“Harper?”

“No. The other arsehole.”

Adam thought for a moment.

“Oh! You mean the old bitch’s son?”

“Grandson, I think. But yeah, him. Bit strange how he was around to come to the rescue. And then what did he do? Slag us off, knowing we was trapped.”

Adam nodded.

“And now Mum thinks he’s wonderful because he played the big hero. Makes me sick.”

Adam sniggered.

“Here, Jay. What if they start to
really
get on well? How would you like that as your stepdad?”

“I doubt that’s going to happen. I mean, look at him. I’ll admit he’s in good shape, has a nice motor, is reasonably good looking…”

“Gay!”

“Shut up, Adam. My point is that he’ll want nothing to do with an ugly, fat fucker like Mum.”

They shared a laugh and drank more beer.

“Anyway, let’s get back to the game,” said Jake, staring down at his cards. “I’ll see your fag, and raise you a can.”

He slammed both on the table.

“Confident, eh?” Adam placed one of his cans down too. “Let’s see ‘em.”

Jake slapped his cards down on the table.

“Full house,” he shouted, one hand reaching across for the cigarettes and beer.

“Whoa,” said Adam, knocking the hand away. “You’ve not seen mine yet.”

He turned his hand over.

“Flush, loser!”

Jake frowned and jabbed one of the cards with his finger.

“What the hell is that?”

“A joker.”

“We took the jokers out though.”

“One must have been left, and as jokers are wild…”

Jake slammed his fist on the table, sending the contents to the floor.

“No way!”

He reached down, picked up a cigarette and popped it between his lips.

“What are you doing? That’s my winnings!”

Jake lit up and blew a cloud of smoke at his brother.

“All bets are off, you cheating bastard.”

Conceding with a cheeky grin, Adam lit a cigarette of his own.

“So come on, bro. You must have something planned to get this fucker back.”

Jake rolled his cigarette back and forth between his thumb and forefinger, watching the wispy smoke cascade upwards from the tip.

“Well,” he said after a few moments thought, “like I said, he has got a nice motor, and with the amount of car crime around here…”

“All right!” Adam laughed, rising from the sofa. “Let’s go.”

“Sit down,” ordered Jake. “Are you that fucking stupid?”

Adam shrugged his shoulders and fell back down into his seat.

“It’s the middle of the day. You wanna steal a car in broad daylight?”

Adam gazed at the floor.

“Exactly. We might as well knock at his door and say
don’t mind us, we’re just gonna nick your car. That okay?
You dumb fuck.”

“So we’re gonna wait till dark then?”

“Well done. That one brain cell finally spark?”

“Shut up, Jay. I’m the older one, remember?”

“Yeah, by three minutes. That shows.”

They sat and smoked their cigarettes in silence, eventually stubbing them out in a green ashtray.

“So what we gonna to do for the rest of the afternoon, then?” asked Adam after downing the dregs from his can.

“Dunno ‘bout you, but I’m starving. Let’s go grab some eats.”

Adam once again started to get up, but then collapsed back down.

“Aw, shit.”

“What?”

“I forgot. It’s Sunday. Mum’ll be in.”

“So? You’re hungry aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but I know she’ll be in the kitchen stressed out to hell. I’m just not in the mood for any of her bullshit.”

Jake stood.

“Then we’ll tell her to piss off. She’ll leave us alone. We could just grab what’s in and come back here.”

“I like that plan,” said Adam, joining his brother. “Let’s get this over and done with.”

The sun dazzled them as they stepped out of the dim garage and into the garden. The back door of the house had been propped open, a sure sign that their mother would be in the kitchen.

Jake took the lead, aiming to be in and out of the house as quickly as possible. Preparing himself for a barrage of questions, he walked up the few stone steps into the kitchen.

He stopped dead in the doorway from the sound of his mother’s laughter.

She sat, as she often did these days, at the kitchen table with various bills and statements scattered over the surface. Only this time, she had company. A tall man with bright red hair and a smart black suit sat opposite her, joining in the laughter. A bowler hat lay on the table in front of him.

Adam barged past his brother to see.

“Boys,” said Jenny, curling a finger behind her glasses to wipe a tear away, “this is Mr Blundsford.”

The man turned to face them.

“Good day to you, gentlemen. Whom may I ask is whom?”

Adam snorted, walked to a cupboard and rummaged around inside.

The visitor’s smile faltered at this obvious show of insolence.

“That’s Adam, Mr Blundsford,” said Jenny quickly, “and this is Jake.”

“Charmed,” said the stranger, holding out his hand.

Jake sneered at it and walked over to his brother.

“I-I’m sorry,” said Jenny, cheeks blossoming deep red. “They’re not used to visitors, I suppose.”

“It’s quite all right, dear, quite all right. As they say, boys will be boys!”

The twins, crouched in front of the open cupboard, sniggered.

“Mr Blundsford is a financial advisor,” Jenny said to them. “He can settle all our debts free of charge, and all he wants is some information about the area…”

“Yeah, great,” said Adam, grabbing three packets of ready salted crisps.

Jake peered deeper inside the cupboard, and at the very back, spied a silver key. He grinned and grabbed it, silently slipping it into his pocket.

Stupid fucking hiding place. Looks like we can go for a drive later…