P.N.E. (The Wolfblood Prophecies Book 4) (21 page)

Jo stood rooted to the spot, remembering the moment when, with a great cracking sound, the Mirror Maze started to shatter. Aunt Lethe had stood, transfixed, in a storm of cascading shards, as her beautiful face was sliced to ribbons. And later, when she had begged Jo to help her, Jo had hardened her heart and walked away. Her eyes filled with tears.

‘Time is of the essence, Jo,’ prompted Matthew gently.

Through a blur she tried to remember where the door was. She had glanced back as she, Smokey and Hawk were leaving. Lethe was trapped in the relentless rain of glass, and as the mirror behind her shattered and fell, Jo caught a glimpse of a secret door.

Willing herself to be strong, Jo went to the exit, then turned and looked back into the maze. In her mind’s eye she saw where Lethe had stood screaming, her face slashed and bleeding, in front of a black-edged mirror etched with the words
Sorrows past and future pain.
Jo walked towards it and looked for a hidden catch.

‘Perhaps it just slides,’ said Matthew, and he was right. Behind the mirror was a narrow passage way and the door Jo had seen.

Matthew carefully slid the door closed. ‘I have to go,’ he said reluctantly, ‘but we will come back tonight and find out just what Lethe and Titus are hiding.’

‘Can I come with you now?’ Jo’s heart wasn’t in the question as she already knew the answer.

‘Sorry, Jo. I’ll be better on my own. I need to concentrate and find exactly the right moment to intervene. I’ll meet you back at the elm grove – say in an hour and a half. Can you entertain yourself until then?’

‘I’ll do my best.’

Once Matthew had gone Jo wandered aimlessly round the fairground for a while but just being there made her feel miserable. Wherever she looked there were reminders of the terrible things that had happened there. She decided to check out the study centre as that, at least, had no sad or bad memories connected with it.

As she made her way to the exit she hoped with all her heart that Matthew’s mysterious mission would soon be accomplished so they could go home. She was longing to see her parents and Calico again.

As is sometimes the case, Jo’s wish partly came true, but not in the way she expected. Just outside the fairground she saw Paul and Ali. She was heading straight for them but felt instinctively they shouldn’t meet. She ducked out of sight behind a billboard, then realised they were having an argument.

Paul looked really uncomfortable, but he was standing his ground. ‘Sorry, sweetheart, but I’m not going there again. It’s just freaks and flea circuses.’

Jo had never seen her mother being petulant before. ‘That’s not fair, Paul. There are some really interesting sideshows…’

Paul interrupted. ‘Oh yeah, like a waxwork massacre of my father’s people? Well worth queuing up for, I don’t think.’

‘I didn’t mean that. But some of the rides are fun…’

‘Especially the Tunnel of Love,’ said Paul flatly. ‘I hear you and Quinn had a great time.’

‘You came on it as well. Weren’t you on some kind of a date with my sister?’

‘I went on the damn thing
once
, with you, Quinn and Lethe. It was not a date. She wasn’t interested in me; it was Quinn she wanted. She just asked me along to make up the numbers. For the record, I wasn’t interested in her either. You and Quinn weren’t bothered about anyone apart from each other. I had a thoroughly rotten time. Nothing beats being a gooseberry to love’s young dream.’

Ali sighed, exasperated. ‘Let it go, Paul. I’m with you now. Don’t spoil it by being jealous and childish.’

‘People say if it hadn’t been for Lethe you and Quinn were going to get married.’

‘Quinn’s not the marrying kind,’ answered Ali.

‘Well, I am.’

Ali was visibly taken aback. She seemed lost for words. When she did speak her voice was stern. ‘If this is your idea of a proposal, Paul Lakota, you must be crazy.’ He looked so crestfallen she relented slightly. ‘I’ll think of it as a dress rehearsal. Meanwhile, I’m going to the fair, whether you like it or not, then I need to work on my essay, so I’ll see you later.’

Paul raised his eyes to the heavens. ‘Just a bit vague, babe. Later when and where?’

Ali wasn’t quite ready to let him off the hook. ‘Depends on what comes up.’

‘I need to know, Ali. I’m hanging out with some of the guys for a jam session this afternoon… laying down some tracks… we could even pull an all-nighter. But I’d rather be with you…’

Ali laughed. ‘Don’t overdo it! Late evening, I guess. I’ll leave a note in your pigeon-hole when I’ve finished here. Oh, and Paul, I warn you, I’ll be expecting something romantic!’

Chapter Thirteen - Check Mate

As Jo wandered round the campus she noticed Matthew standing outside the partly open window of Mary Montgomery’s laboratory. She couldn’t resist creeping closer. He seemed oblivious to her presence as he studied the woman who had loved him all her life, and who would, in their old age, become his second wife.  He could clearly see that she was very nervous. She kept glancing at the door, obviously expecting someone.

Matthew was relieved that he had calculated the timing correctly. He tried not to chuckle when he heard Mary firmly tell herself, in her best school-mistress voice, to get a grip. She breathed deeply, composing herself, mastering her anxiety so when the awaited knock finally came she seemed ice-cool, commanding and authoritative.

She waited deliberately, smiling slightly as a second, impatient knock was heard.

Unhurried, she counted to ten before quietly saying, ‘Enter.’ The door opened and Lethe flounced in. She looked stunning in a cream corduroy Mary Quant mini-skirt and jacket with matching patent leather knee-high boots. She seemed to light up the room with her vitality. Even her sullen scowl did not detract from her beauty.

‘I do not care for being kept waiting, Miss Montgomery,’ pouted Lethe, an insulting emphasis on the word ‘Miss’.

‘And I do not care for the direction your research is taking, Miss Lake. This is a formal warning that if you continue to plan unethical experiments to feed the megalomaniac visions of that charlatan Titus Stigmurus, I intend to report you to the Principal and recommend your expulsion from the University. The letter is already written – I have it here - and unless you convince me that you have put this dangerous nonsense behind you, it will be sent.’

With a sharp intake of breath Jo realised why Matthew needed to be here. He had returned to the time and place where Lethe had ruined Mary’s career and he planned to stop it somehow.

Matthew heard Jo gasp, and frowned as he registered her presence.
This is private, Jo. Please leave.

Jo dearly wanted to stay, but Matthew’s expression was stern and unbending. Reluctantly she slipped away, her mind racing as she understood what was about to happen. Matthew had told her Mary’s sad story.

Despite Matthew’s request to work alone, Jo was desperate to help.
I’ll find Ali,
she thought.
There must be a way to get through to her and bring her here.

‘I have done nothing wrong,’ retorted Lethe. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

‘I’m talking about this,’ said Mary calmly, and she produced a notepad from her desk drawer.

‘That’s private property,’ protested Lethe.

‘University issue notepaper, Miss Lake, used in University time, making ownership rather a grey area. Let me see. On the first page we find, in your handwriting, some nonsense entitled
The Wolfblood Prophecies
. I understand Mr Stigmurus believes himself to be the Chosen One – the son of the wolf.’

‘So what? Are you suggesting I also think that?’ demanded Lethe scornfully.

‘I am sure that you, with your remarkable, fine and analytical mind, do not believe a word of it. But you are drawn to power. Many women find their destiny as the consort of a powerful man such as Titus Stigmurus.’

Lethe laughed. ‘I have no intention of being his consort. I intend to be every bit as powerful as he is. In my own right.’

‘I am sure you do, Miss Lake. In the meanwhile he is a most useful stepping stone, and doubtless it suits your purpose to encourage his fantasies.’

Mary read the prophecy aloud.

‘The son of the wolf will live for ever...

renewed through the blood of sacrifice...

under the sign of the hooked cross...

rolling thunder and clouds of glory...

steeped in sin and will seek repentance...

a mistress of memory will tame him...

she will bear him the Child of Glory...

the Child will be branded with secret signs …

the Child of Glory will lead the Rainbow Warriors

in a time of war and destruction...’

‘You, Miss Lake, are indeed a mistress of memory, like your sister and your mother. Unfortunately, unlike them, you seek power for yourself. I imagine the thought of taming, then usurping, the son of the wolf would be far more exciting than merely being his consort…’

‘This is simply fascinating,’ drawled Lethe, ‘however you have shown me only speculation. I repeat, I have done nothing wrong.’

‘The notes in the margin are fascinating,’ continued Mary implacably. ‘Particularly this, next to where it says
the Child will be branded with secret signs…
You have written
Blaschko lines? Chimera?
And on the next page is the heading
How to Create a Chimera.
Would you like me to read your recipe?’

Lethe looked slightly less assured. ‘I imagine you intend to whatever I say.’

‘Indeed. You have written:

First, take one woman pregnant with twins.

Second, destroy one of the foetuses.

Third, wait for the surviving foetus to absorb the remains of its twin.

Fourth, at birth, check for Blaschko lines!’

Lethe had rallied. ‘And again I say, so what? I am well known for my interest in fertility and reproduction. In fact that is how I first became aware of Titus’s work, when I was not yet a teenager. This is nothing more than intellectual curiosity – a hypothesis I never intend to develop.’

‘Unlike Josef Mengele,’ mused Mary.

‘What’s Mengele got to do with me?’

‘Your admirer, Mr Stigmurus, is particularly interested in Mengele’s notorious medical research for the Nazi party. The Angel of Death. His experiments on twins were particularly horrific.’

‘Are you calling me a Nazi, Miss Montgomery?’

‘You are walking a dangerous path, Miss Lake. You are seduced by dreams of power and the pursuit of knowledge at any cost.’

‘Prove it. Anyway, as far as I am aware this university, like any other, exists precisely in order to further the pursuit of knowledge and encourage dreams of power.’

‘Within strict ethical boundaries, Miss Lake, which I believe you are at risk of breaching. I understand that among the group of pregnant women you are studying whilst over here there are four expecting twins and that you have placed them in a special sub-group for further research. What is the nature of that further research, Miss Lake?’

Lethe hesitated fractionally. ‘My notes are freely available, Miss Montgomery.’

‘Anyone can fabricate notes, Miss Lake. I repeat, what is the nature of that further research?’

‘I plan nothing harmful, I assure you. If you must know, I am investigating the incidence of twins born with the special abilities my sister and I share.’

‘I believe Professor Jamieson has already produced the definitive paper on that subject. The University frowns on students duplicating their lecturers’ work. Obviously this is not an approved project. In which case you have no business using college time and resources for your explorations.’

Lethe said nothing.

Mary sighed. She waited, but Lethe remained silent. ‘Very well. I wish I could believe your assurances. In the absence of a convincing alternative explanation I can only conclude that you intend to interfere with these women’s pregnancies, killing one twin
in utero
in the hope that the surviving foetuses will become chimeras.’

‘That is an outrageous accusation!’ Lethe’s eyes flashed dangerously.

‘Indeed. But given this evidence, highly probable. Interesting that I do not hear a denial. Oh, it is marginally possible that you have, as you assert, done nothing wrong, but I fear it is only a matter of time before you do, and I cannot allow that to happen. I summoned you here today to seek a guarantee that you would turn aside from this work but I realise, even if you promise, I cannot trust your word. I will do what I should have done in the first place and share my concerns with the Principal. You may go.’

Lethe was shaking with rage. ‘You foolish old crone. Even before this latest attempt to blacken my name you have constantly criticised my work and thwarted my plans. Did you think I would take that lightly? Surely you, of all people, would have expected me to use my – what did you call it? – ah, yes,
remarkable, fine and analytical mind
– to find your Achilles’ heel?’

Lethe had scarcely finished speaking before realisation began to dawn on both Mary and Matthew, still watching from the shadows. Lethe laughed triumphantly as she studied Mary’s face. ‘I see my arrow has struck home, Miss Montgomery. I am sure the Principal would be fascinated to hear that one of his most respected lecturers lied about her qualifications in order to secure a job working with her beloved, so she could be on hand to comfort him after the tragic deaths of his family…’

Mary was clearly shaken. With iron self-discipline she composed herself.

‘Meticulous research, Miss Lake. Indeed, you are right - to a point. I was an excellent student. However, I couldn’t sit my finals. My mother was dying and she needed me. But my tutor wrote a reference saying I was destined for a First…’

‘Nevertheless, you lied on your application form, claiming a degree you don’t actually have.’

Mary was very pale. ‘I have a copy of the reference, but the original, as I am sure you have discovered, was destroyed in a fire.’

‘Anyone can fabricate a copy,’ murmured Lethe. ‘How interesting that you assume it is your petty deception that I consider to be your Achilles’ heel, when all the time you and I both know that distinction goes to Professor Jamieson.’

Mary was silent.

Lethe’s eyes glittered with malice as she continued. ‘I am sure you could tolerate the loss of your own reputation with that irritating, stoic fortitude you bring to bear on everything. But imagine the Principal’s horror when he discovers that one of his most esteemed professors colluded with his bit-on-the-side to wangle her a lectureship. With the emphasis on lecher.’

‘You know damn well Matthew had no idea what I did.’

‘On the contrary, I believe he did know.’

‘You believe nothing of the kind. And you also know damn well I was not his bit-on-the-side.’

‘Not then perhaps. It was just a matter of time.’

‘I assure you, Matthew knew nothing.’

‘I wish
I
could believe
your
assurances, Miss Montgomery. However, if you refrain from going to the Principal about my valuable and exciting extra-curricular research, I shall refrain from telling him that you and, more importantly, his longstanding, trusted friend and colleague, Professor Jamieson, deceived him. Do we have an agreement?’

Mary’s reply was almost inaudible but the brief nod of her head was all Lethe needed. ‘Excellent. And I know you to be a woman of your word, so we’ll consider that done and dusted. Nevertheless, it would be prudent if I deal with your letter to the Principal.’

She extended her hand and Mary mutely passed over the letter. Lethe lit a Bunsen burner and watched thoughtfully as the paper flamed, then turned to ashes.

‘Thank you. Which just leaves the other small matter.’