Box Set - Chapter Twenty-Five

                The manor is daunting and large and rises like a mountain from the earth before us. Its roof is dark and the windows sit broken in their panes. If I were to picture the image of a haunted house then this would be near the top of my list.

                'Lovely place you got here, Teague,' Elle observes. 'Should we start calling you the Count?'

                'If that would please you,' he rebuffs.

                'Why is it that ghosts tend to congregate in buildings left for the spiders?' I ask.

                'For the precise reason that humans are scared of the dark and creeping. All that is uncanny in the world. Here you have a house before you that was once great. A place of regency and honour now turned to decay. When we found it, chairs were upturned, pianos left open like their players were abducted mid song. The presence of history stopped in time keeps people away.'

                'Yeah but have you ever heard of house pride?' Elle nudges Yates and the two snort.

                'Let's go inside,' Teague says. 'And be reminded that history led us to this moment.'

                He starts down a grassy slope. The high pointed grey mountains behind the woods at the back of the manor make me think that we're in America somewhere. An American belle's Rocky Mountain retreat.
                'This is looking very Montana like to me,' Elle says.

                'How do you know from a look?'

                'I've done a lot of air miles, Easton. I know the shape of the world, the lie of the land. Plus I used to watch a lot of TV. Daytime TV bad guys love this kind of place.'

                'I take that as an insult,' Teague calls over his shoulder. 'I'm much more primetime.'

                Elle purses her lips and raises her eyebrows in approval. 'Okay, point one for Teague. He's growing on me.'

                'Yeah, like a fungus,' Yates says and they laugh again.

                The front door of the manor swings open to Teague's touch. I wonder why he doesn't just walk through it. Maybe for the pleasure of living. The power he still has over the real world.

                'We move around a lot,' he says. 'So we never bother making a place look like home.'

                The thought of Teague having a home confuses me for a second. That this megalomaniac scientist could have ever been a child, happily running around on a beach. To me he seems the eternal madman.

                'Honey, I'm home!' he calls.

                His voice rings out and bounces off the empty walls covered in dust.

                Two wide staircases curl upwards on either side of the hall. The floor is black and white like a chessboard and chandeliers hang from the ceiling. They're covered in so much spider's web that it's unclear where the web ends and crystal begins.
 'Really, Teague?' comes the now familiar voice.

                Robin Thacker appears at the top of the staircase. She walks down the stairs like a queen, one hand on the bannister. She's changed clothes. A benefit of the living. I'm guessing she has some device or another on her person that lets her see us. She locks eyes with me in particular as she reaches the bottom step.

                'I thought it might be appropriate?' Teague ventures. 'The man bringing spoils home to the lady in the manor.'

                'You know I don't like that sort of language,' Thacker replies. Her voice has changed. Once light and grandma-like. Now there is authority. 'Lady, woman and gentleman, man. Gender is so inconsequential to someone who's lived as long as me.' She smiles, but not happily. 'Gentleman,' she says. 'What a lost ideal.'

                'You were once,' Teague says. 'The finest gentleman, that's what all the books call you.'

                I feel like we've been forgotten. Set aside for this grand reunion of master and apprentice.

                'So they did,' Thacker confirms. She looks towards the three of us, standing behind Teague. 'Welcome to our temporary abode,' she says. 'I apologise for the little masquerade at the castle, one must be aware who one can trust.'
                Her words sometimes come from a forgotten age. Back in the castle she spoke like a woman of this time. I wonder is it like an accent. If you live in a country for long enough, you adopt their manners. Sometimes you can keep it. Maybe it shows a longing for a bygone age.

                'Why have you brought us here?' I ask.

                It strikes me that this is my favourite author of all time. Of all the ways I thought about meeting Robin Thacker, this was not among them. It's like I've stepped into one of the books. Ghosts and demons, jewels and thieves.

                'I was hoping you'd like to lend me a hand,' Thacker suggests. Her eyes show something, a twinkle, a whisper, but one I can't read.

                'Only if you answer some questions,' Yates says.

                'Yeah we want to know exactly what we're getting ourselves into, otherwise you can forget it,' Elle says.

                I nod in agreement. Thankfully, Thacker does too.

                'That seems fair,' she says. 'I think you'll find that in this game of ghosts and monsters, there is no side to choose. I can respect you for doing what you feel is right.' She turns to walk away but seems to reconsider. She turns to face us. 'But I sincerely hope you agree with me. What me and my colleague here have to say. We're on the brink of greatness beyond greatness.'
               When she talks, sometimes I hear the words she wrote. The Alchemist lives inside her and I want to follow to hear more. Visit the desert with Cecily and her ghostly friend. Flood the world and find the key. I remember my favourite line in the book. The last line. The line that always made me yearn for more. But there was never a sequel. No explanation and an author long dead. Now she stands in front of me. I wonder will I ever get to ask her a question as trivial about the last line of a book.

                She leads us into a room off the entrance hall. Inside is a long oval table with more chairs than I care to count. They stand taller than a person's back. The sort of chair used by kings and members of parliament and senates, Lords and Ladies. We enter the room as paupers.

                We all take seats near one end. Thacker sits at the head of the table with Teague at her right hand. We sit on her left.

                'What would you like to know?' Thacker asks. Her voice holds an air of calm.

                'First of all,' Elle interjects before anyone can say a thing, 'I want to know who's watching my parents. I want them to be safe. Agatha said she had people watching them and I don't think I want anyone watching them at all.'

                'That will, of course be dealt with,' Thacker says. A chill travels up my spine. What does that mean? That's the sort of thing a mafia boss says before pieces of animals end up in beds.

                'What are you going to do?' Elle asks.
                'Find out who is watching them. If they're living or dead. Either way they'll be scared away in an appropriate fashion. No one, least of all your parents will come to any harm. Which reminds me,' she raises her finger. 'You caused a stir in New York, the pair of you. We had a close call.'

                She refers to our appearance on television. I wonder have my parents seen it yet, made any sort of move to find me.

                'I wouldn't worry about it,' she says. 'Stories about ghosts and spirits rarely have a repeat performance in mass media. They get sent to back corners of that dratted internet. A word to the wise though,' she looks each of us in the face. 'Halogen light is a spirit's worst enemy. The same as infrared, ultraviolet or any harsh lighting from the ends of the spectrum. We can appear, scare and our world is revealed to the living. That isn't something we want at the present moment.'

                'And what do you want?' I ask.

                'Answers concerning the universe,' Thacker explains. 'My life's work finally complete. The Great Beyond,' she says and pauses, 'lies just out of our reach. Understanding it, reaching it, and above all having the ability to cross there and return safely.'

                'What is the Great Beyond?' asks Yates, desperation creeping into his voice. 
‘The Great Beyond is the next stage,’ Thacker explains. ‘I discovered it a long time ago. I had a friend, a dear dear friend who was plagued by a terrible sadness. He found the path onwards.’

                ‘This sounds very airy fairy to me,’ Elle says, crossing her arms. ‘Where’s your proof?’

                ‘One second he was there, the next he wasn’t,’ Thacker says. She doesn’t seem annoyed by Elle’s comments. She seems rather used to the dissent. ‘I need no further proof.’

                ‘Sounds like you got dumped to me,’ Elle remarks. ‘I’ve prayed. I used to be a weekender at all sorts of holy houses. I don’t need to tell you they never got answered.’

                I look at Elle and imagine her praying in the small hours. Praying for life and having it taken away from her. I don’t blame her from being sceptical.

                ‘You speak like I’m selling a religion,’ Thacker says. ‘I merely give the truth, the next scientific stage in a human being’s personal evolution. I would argue that you prayed for life and were awarded it in another form. I’m a student of the sciences, but that doesn’t mean there can’t be more to the universe. No being is all-powerful but some can certainly be more powerful than others.’

                Teague nods along all the way through Thacker’s speech. ‘You’re all young in this world,’ he says. ‘There are whole churches devoted to the gift of living on. Some of these sects believe we can travel further. This is what I wanted to do for you, Easton, back when we were connected. Travelling beyond this land means losing your form yes, but you become so much more than a single person. You become part of a network. The network we already share.’

                ‘The Edge?’ I say. ‘Is that what you mean?’

                ‘Of course,’ Thacker answers for him. ‘You’ve contacted each other using just your thoughts, you can leave this country and re-enter the universe at any physical point. This is proof that human beings are connected in a very real sense. Physical bodies rob that of us. Once my work on this plain has ceased I shall leave it and commence my journey onwards.’

                ‘So you think we’re all one big happy family and we should leave the mortal coil?’ Elle says. ‘I like this one thanks.’

                ‘But you’ll be giving up eternal life and the knowledge of everyone who has travelled the path. Being godlike!’
                ‘I’m alright thanks,’ I say. I dread to think what humans would do with godlike power. I’ve seen enough examples already.

                Thacker sits back in her chair as though she’s disappointed.

                ‘Well you’ll have first hand accounts and you’ll see for yourself. You’ll see it’s a gift as soon as it happens.’

                ‘As soon as what happens?’ I ask.

                ‘What are you going to us?’ Elle sits up, terror in her eyes.

                ‘Going to do? I did it as you walked through the door.’ She smiles.

                I stand up. ‘Let’s go,’ I say to the other two. ‘We can’t stay here.’

                ‘There’s no stopping it,’ Thacker says. ‘The Great Beyond awaits you.’

                ‘Hadn’t you better change me back to human form?’ Teague asks. Worry creeps into his voice, a slight wavering on the end of each word.

                ‘On the contrary, Teague my dear, you’re going with them. You’re the only man I trust to.’

                ‘I didn’t agree to this!’ he shouts.

                ‘Welcome to the club,’ Elle says. ‘Easton, I don’t feel good.’

                I feel so weak all of a sudden, like I’ve just blown up a balloon and my breath won’t return. I fall to my knees as my legs give up on my weight.

                I don’t want to go. I want to live, I want to stay here and wander the earth with my friends forever. But my body doesn’t agree. Blackness clogs the edges of my vision, and the rest of it swims from focus. I think I can feel my life ebbing away from me. This is what dying feels like. Not quick and painless like a car crash, this is lasting. Not painful but exhausting. My will is beaten and I’m falling.

                And I’m falling, falling, falling.

                Gone.