Autumn (37 page)

             
Zander nodded a quick greeting to the two men and let Arabel take the lead on questioning them.

             
“What are you looking for?” she asked.

             
“Why, we were just out taking a stroll,” Mr. Akings stammered, his sad face reddening slightly with the lie. Sully glanced over at him in surprise.

             
“This is not the way in which to assist your deceased friend,” Arabel said calmly, bartering on their sorrow to ease her way into a truthful account of their activities.

             
There was a long pause as the two men exchanged guilty glances. Finally Mr. Akings broke down.

             
“We were searching for the shield, the one from the secret meetings. Indra told us about it and said they met here twice a month to perform some ritual. Some blood ritual.” The small, sad man shuddered as he pulled a worn hanky from his pocket and loudly blew his nose.

             
“Indra was part of a secret society?” Zander queried, his tone excited.

             
Arabel glanced at him; she could see Zander probing Sully’s easily penetrated mind and she watched the blue flow of energy as Zander tracked the movements of the man’s thoughts telepathically.

             
Mr. Akings bowed his head, his features drawn and solemn.

             
“He’d found his one true love, Alice-May Marpole, and he swore to do what he must in order to save her.”

             
“What does that have to do with Indra’s involvement in the secret society?” Arabel asked.

             
“Why, it was the only way he could befriend Alice-May without her husband learning the truth, miss. Indra loved Alice-May, and she returned his affections, but her husband weren’t in no way one to make do with being cuckolded! So, Indra joined up with the husband’s secret society to cover up their acquaintance,” Mr. Akings explained, blowing his nose again.

             
“Who is Alice-May’s husband, pray tell?” Zander asked.

             
“Why, Saul Porchetto,” Sully put in and Arabel’s heart leapt at recognition of the name.

             
“Porchetto! The Gypsies my grandparents were involved with!” Arabel exclaimed in excitement.

             
“Well, I don’t rightly know nothing ‘bout that, miss,” Mr. Akings replied. “I only know poor Indra died and there’s somethin’ fishy goin’ on with those meetings he went to so’s he could see his love. He fell hard for Alice-May and they made plans to run away together but I reckon we all know how that tale ended.”

             
Sully let out a low mournful sigh and pulled out a worn hanky of his own and proceeded to loudly blow his nose as well. Arabel turned to Zander.

             
“At last we have a name,” she said excitedly.

             
Rain was falling now with a monotonous frequency and Arabel felt her cape beginning to soak through with moisture. Ira suddenly reappeared, his black feathers gleaming with wet beads and he shook himself before landing upon Arabel’s waiting shoulder. Ira nuzzled Arabel’s neck and sent her pictures, yet again of the thief Jonty Governs, apparently the bird’s favourite subject. Although Arabel had not asked Ira to continue to watch the small man, the bird had made it his mission to make sure the thief obeyed the directives of the Gypsy Council, and Arabel was certain that the bird kind of had it in for the thieving fool.

             
Jonty was in his mother’s caravan and he was alone. A knock on the door sounded and Arabel saw him open the door, and the look of fright which immediately overtook him. Hands reached out to enclose themselves around the circumference of the thief’s unwilling neck. The choking pressure began immediately and Arabel could feel traces of it upon her own person.

             
“Jonty’s in trouble,” she said urgently to Zander.

             
Ira cawed loudly, flapping his wings emphatically, and Arabel’s expression was worried.

             
“We must go to him,” Arabel said quickly and Zander did not question her. “But we must hide the shield, first.”

             
“You know about the shield?” Sully asked in surprise.

             
“Yes, but I don’t know what you wanted to find it for,” Arabel replied.

             
“Well, we reckoned if we could find it, we would know we’d found the spot where the meetings take place, and we could spy on them, and maybe do something to help poor Indra!” Mr. Akings said wearily.

             
“You can still help Indra, and Alice-May,” Arabel said and hastily laid out a course of action for the two men to follow.

             
Arabel advised them to go to Chief Constable Bartlin and to supply him with the name of Alice-May’s husband, and to inform the Chief of the secret meetings Indra had been a part of. Arabel knew the Chief would be most interested to hear about the mass hypnosis techniques Indra had been taught; she was well aware also that the Dorojenja would know soon enough that their secrets were slowly but surely becoming exposed.

             
“But we will lose the element of surprise, miss; Porchetto will know we’re on to him!” Mr. Akings protested.

             
Arabel surveyed him patiently. His grief flew off of him in multiple waves of sorrow; she wished to lighten the sad load he carried in his heart, not add to it.

             
“You were never any risk to Porchetto, nor indeed to any of the evil folk responsible for the murders,” Arabel replied softly, “but you can help Indra and Alice-May now by telling what you know to the Chief.”

             
Mr. Akings nodded slowly and Sully did as well.

             
“We’ll do that now, then, miss,” Mr. Akings said, tipping his old cap to her briefly, and then the two men shuffled off in the direction of town.

             
“Now,” Arabel said, “we must hide this evil thing before anyone else comes!”

             
The two companions quickly hid the bloody shield under some stout bushes and placed large rocks around the outside, effectively camouflaging the evil talisman. Arabel found that when she hazarded to touch the dark object, her very skin recoiled and the screams inside of her head multiplied to the point where she had to let go for a moment, in order to breathe. Zander seemed unaffected but Arabel was sure he could both feel the murderous
energy and hear the
screaming soul destruction of the victims.

             
Arabel was glad to leave the haunted clearing and make their way to the Copse. Every step they took away from the Dorojenja ceremonial site lightened her own energy field until she felt the evil dropping away from her, thankfully unchaining her mind from its dark embrace.

             
Arabel could see a faint trail of astral energy hovering above them as they hastened toward the Gypsy encampment. It was the only part of Minnie Carlyle that was not trapped within the shield.

             
Minnie was confused. She did not understand what had happened and she did not know where she was. Arabel felt her heart wrench as she realized Minnie had likely been the same age as herself, but unlike Arabel, Minnie would never know the joys of loving. Minnie would only know the pain of death and the half-dark of eternal imprisonment within the negative forces. Locked within the evil shield, Minnie cried out in pain and fear. Arabel felt as if her own head and her own heart would wrench themselves into unbearably broken pieces if they couldn’t free the unfortunate souls soon.

             
Zander put his hand on Arabel’s arm briefly, grounding her.

             
“We’ll set them free, Arabel,” he promised.

             
“We have to!” she cried and Zander nodded solemnly.

             
“We will.”

             
When Jonty’s mother’s caravan came into view, Ira flew ahead of them, calling raucously and imperiously. Arabel could hear the bird very distinctly, “Quickly!” the bird was screeching. “There’s not much time left!”

             
The door to the caravan was open and Arabel saw the thief lying on the floor of it, his face ashen, his chest still, and an expression of utter horror upon his countenance. Arabel feared they were too late, that the thief had already expired.

             
“We’re too late!” Arabel exclaimed in misery.

             
Zander moved quickly to Jonty and laid his hands upon the thief’s head. Zander shut his eyes and his lips began to move in a silent chant, reminding Arabel of Francesca’s chanting at the séance.  Zander moved his hands from Jonty’s head to his neck and then to his chest, resting them above the thief’s heart.

             
Slowly, Arabel detected a slight rise and fall beginning from within Jonty’s chest.

             
“You did it!” Arabel cried out happily and Ira chortled and cawed his approval, hopping from one foot to another in some weird and humorous corvid celebratory dance.

             
Zander’s face was flushed; his green eyes a bit wild.

             
“They’re on the move,” he said thickly and Arabel had no idea what he meant. She was about to question him further when Jonty’s mother appeared, rushing up to the caravan door.

             
“What is goin’ on in here?” she called out warily.

             
Zander poked his head out and she calmed immediately.

             
“Mrs. Governs,” Zander replied evenly, “it appears Jonty has had an unfortunate mishap. You will need to keep him still, and safe. Do not let him leave and do not leave him alone!”

             
Mrs. Governs quickly agreed and together they moved Jonty onto the small cot in her main living space, obviously where the thief had been sleeping for the past while.

             
“What did they do to him?” Mrs. Governs asked and Zander quickly explained how they’d just found the thief unconscious.

             
“He’ll be alright,” Zander said. “But we must leave now and speak with the Council.”

             
Arabel and Zander left the woman tending to her son and Ira communicated to Arabel that the danger had not yet passed for Jonty; the evil would return to finish the job left undone.

             
“Why did no one know that Alice-May’s husband was Saul Porchetto?” Arabel asked Zander. “It doesn’t make sense. Saul is a Gypsy; surely someone in the Copse must have known who he was married to!”

             
Zander’s eyes were troubled green orbs. “I’d no idea Saul was even married. He must’ve had some reason for keeping it secret. I’d never met Alice-May in my life; nor was she residing here with Porchetto in the Glen. I’ve never been particularly friendly with him.”

             
“And he has a partner, at least one; I’ve seen two men in my dreams.”

             
“I’ll let the Council know and we’ll ascertain who Porchetto has ties to, see if we can’t figure out why he’d have kept his marriage a secret. There must’ve been some logic to it.”

             
“When you were attending to Jonty, you said someone was on the move; whomever did you mean?”

             
Zander turned to look at Arabel, surprise showing clearly upon his handsome face.

             
“Strange,” he said slowly, “I don’t recall that. In fact,” Zander ran a hand through his unruly auburn hair, “I no longer have any memory of even helping the thief!”

             
Arabel set her jaw firmly; it was as if Zander had suffered an involuntary memory-wipe. Arabel could feel the danger lurking in the air, waiting. The grey energy behaved as if it had all of the time in the world in which to strike, and it preferred to indulge itself in a long, heavily drawn-out stage of play.

             
You will not win, Arabel declared fervently in her mind to the pervasive grey energy. I promise you, you will not win!

             
Arabel heard the guttural laughter in her head. It was getting closer.

             
Arabel shifted her feet somewhat impatiently as Mrs. Ingemyer pulled her closer and almost stabbed her with a pin.

             
“Hold still there, dearie, just one more pin to go and then off to the looking glass so you can see for yourself just how fetching you look!” Mrs. Ingemyer exclaimed, stuffing the last few unnecessary pins back into the cherry tomato pincushion.