Chapter 1 - A Perfunctory Plan
December 13 and the forecast spoke the cold day through the radio. The weather forecast was always the first thing that stirred Haarken to consciousness. The familiar voice of the baritone drone speaking frankly the facts of the oncoming weather formed the template of his mood for any given day.
Today's weather was as dull as it had been the previous week. Thick snow fell during the night to hide the street filth and shadows from those that skulked at that time.
Haarken's distain for those of that hour did not stretch past himself. It was 8am and he had fallen on his bed dead at 3am that morning after a dizzying night of familiar faces viewed through the myriad bottles still around the coffee table confirmed that he had had a good night or so he had thought at the time.
Good times don't last he said to himself and walked towards an empty space of the kitchen bench top. On his stagger through the living room, his shin hit the corner of the coffee table careening him into the leg of the sofa that connected mercilessly with is left little toe. The pain fired and flared from its source and was answered by his hung over brain. The two sources of pain from either end of his body was too much to manage in his fragile state and he collapsed onto the sofa curling into a foetal position both hands around his left foot, feigning a sob and mumbling some swear words in a few languages.
He abandoned his kitchen destination and returned limping defeated back to the bathroom and so, onto the shower. The warm water on his head shoulders and back warmed him and relaxed the vice grip on his head allowing him to think.
Today was payday, well at least a payment from a client that had not been happy with his work more accepting of his final report.
It was always important for me to dress well, but never well enough to be remembered. He dressed in work trousers; black with knife sharp creases, a thick high-collared white shirt that most friends had commented must have been rescued from a 1970 cop show and a deep burgundy linen scarf wound around his neck in place of a tie. Black leather gloves and his well-loved black woollen coat held many memories and nifty pockets inside and most importantly kept me warm in the middle of English winters.
Haarken walked outside and confirmed the dull sky above and the chilly wind picked up around his feet swirling powder and falling away. He turned up his collar and was glad the direction he needed to go didn't face me directly into the wind. It kicked up from time to time and hit his back penetrating a little too much for his liking. Haarken shuffled to the end of the street to the corner of the high street. When passing the shops he often; he always crossed the road and walked on the opposite side when he saw the electronics shop, no sense ruining their wares if he wasn't settled and in control. Sometimes Haarken missed the shops and sighs and exclamations are heard from inside as he passed. Hey, at least he tried.
Haarken's mind was focused on Millie Heatherstone and his heart was weighed down with the information he had to give her. He had a contemplative tube trip and walked almost a mile through snow-covered streets to meet Millie.
Haarken finally found her large old door and knocked three times. The door opened slowly and the brass chain pulled taunt as she peered through the opening.
"Oh I am so glad it's you Mr Haarken", she said relieved, "I've had all sorts of callers at all hours and none invited. I am glad to see you are here promptly tho..."
She unlatched the door and welcomed me into her home and across her threshold. Haarken felt the tingle as he stepped over, this was an old house and had the same family living in it for more than 100 years, and you get a sense of these things. He took off his coat scarf and gloves and hung them in the hallway.
"Please" she said, "...come in to the sitting room"
"A very gracious old lady", Haarken thought and to have fallen so quickly on such hard time since her husband's passing. Haarken sighed heavily to myself and sat down.
Here it comes he thought, he had to tell her the bad news now; it was a heavy rock in his stomach that he was wrestling with and it had been growing steadily heavier with each step closer to Millie's front door.
"I am sorry to say I don't have any good news for you." Haarken said.
The sullen nod of the elderly woman affected him deeply though he didn't allow it to show. In response to her body language, he changed the speed and tone to a more consoling one.
"Mrs Heatherstone", Haarken continued, "Psychometry and medium-ship are not exact sciences; and in as much as I've given you some accurate information, I'm sorry that my answers haven't allowed you some ease to your loss."
She met his eyes, continued nodding and said, "... you've been ever so helpful Mister Haarken, and I do feel that Reggie has moved on, I just wish he had more to say before he passed."
Reggie had been her husband, a man dead by heart attack about one month and Haarken had found him and summoned him on her behalf. He was a nasty short-tempered shade and even after explaining who he was and that he was contacting him on behalf of his wife Reggie had utterly ignored that fact and continued to rage on about the inconvenience of being trapped in a summoning circle and how Haarken was breaking the law.
Human law maybe, but habeas corpus was a major part of that and he constituted none of that now so Haarken hadn't felt guilty at all for capturing his shade within the confines of the summoning circle.
"Let me out!" he exclaimed almost frothing at the mouth, "I have people to meet and places to see" he stated confidently as he swirled around the confines of the circle.
"Let me out this minute or I am calling the police." he was so enraged now that he seemed to be foaming around the mouth, which offset his silvering walrus moustache and made his mouth look much bigger.
Haarken had asked and asked again the question his wife had asked him.
"Where is the money Reggie? Where is the money that was invested when Millie's sister died?"
Millie's sister Ida had the good fortune to marry well, not so much in the sense of position but more the fact that the man she loved adored her back and a great many years of warm and wonderful love had existed between them until their recent deaths. She had also married well by simple fact that when her estate had been settled, being there were no other relatives, Millie had inherited quite a shockingly large amount, which her husband subtly ceased and said he would take care of for her and invest.
Reggie had invested it all right, most in a fool's folly and some on gambling. However, had quickly lost the lot without even bothering to tell Millie. Millie, now in quite dire straits with money subsequently had the even worse task of fending off Reggies creditors from her phone and front door at all hours.
Haarken felt so sad that she had lost the man she had loved and relied on for more than 60 years and gained such a staggering debt in his place. She handed me the envelope, sighed, and looked up adjusting her expression,
"Won't you stay for tea Mister Haarken, I do have a nice Darjeeling brewing."
"Thank you Mrs Heatherstone, I'd love to, but I have another appointment that I can't miss this afternoon.", and smiled as warmly as he could, being as sad as he was.
"Well Mr Haarken, I had better get back to my sisters boxes, Ida kept everything from our family and her husband's family. I have a lot of sorting ahead of me." she sighed,
The thought came to him and he gave her his professional card.
"If you find any interesting old books, I could value them and sell them for you if you wish at no commission."
She took his card and smiled politely but absently. As Haarken said his goodbyes, he put on his coat gloves and woollen scarf and headed out into the icy day. As the door closed, he walked to the front gate of the small Edwardian terrace and took the envelope she had given me and placed it into her post box. He really couldn't take the money from her even though he had needed it. He just felt too much sadness for Millie Heatherstone for that. Haarken breathed deeply of the frigid air, straighten his back and began to stride down to the corner.
The wind was biting into his face directly and Haarken tucked his chin and lower face down into his scarf, he bent over into the cutting wind hoping he could make some headway as he approached the tube entry. The relief from the icy wind was instant. Haarken unhunched his shoulders, pulled out his oyster card, swiped it and moved through the gate and down the stairs to the platform. A warm wind slowly surged from the tube on to his right cheek, the train stopped and the doors slid open. He found a seat quickly and noticed annoyingly that the seats were always too narrow for his ass.
A blank faced man sat opposite Haarken and seemed to stare forlornly out the window to his left. He looked at his wristwatch, pulled on the lapel of this coat, and resumed his stare. Haarken looked at him and said
"Could you tell me the time please?"
The old man looked up at me with a start and his focus shifted to Haarken. The old man frowned and opened his mouth and said,
"Are… are you speaking to me?"
"Yeah, what's the time please?" Haarken replied.
"Err, I don't know", he replied hesitantly.
"But you just looked at your watch," Haarken stated.
He didn't seem to understand, "...sorry it hasn't worked since I ...I died."
Haarken's eyes went wide and he said to himself, "Shit a brick!"
Haarken looked side to side and saw the other few passengers on mobile phones or with earphones on listening to music. Haarken looked back at the man and he smiled a little unsure of himself and added, 'It's okay, I feel quite well now since my passing..."
It had been a long time since Haarken hadn't had to focus to see the 'shady' side of London. There are a hell of a lot of spirits and shades that have been wandering aimlessly for sometimes up to 1400 years. Think about it, the sanity of some of these entities has just gone right out the window and you can understand why. No communication, no direct interaction with friends and loved ones, no one listens to you and they even walk right through you let alone the others of your kind that have been there for centuries that are insane and with seemingly limitless hunger to consume your essence.
"I'm glad to hear that..." Haarken said still in shock.
"How can you see me?" the old man asked frankly leaning forward.
"Err... well some people are sensitive to it..." Haarken replied becoming more nervous, "I just can I suppose."
He certainly wasn't going to get into a discussion of magic the afterlife and everything with a complete stranger, alive or dead. The tone of the train's speed lowered and he knew the next station was close.
Haarken said to the older gentleman existing across from him, "I'm sorry, this is my station... Sorry I have to go, tho nice chatting with you, have a nice... err ... day. Bye-bye now"
He stood up and headed out the door when the train stopped and headed quickly for the stairs. Haarken looked back as the train pulled out and saw the old man looking at me from the train as it accelerated away from the platform.
Haarken held the rail with one hand and put his other hand to his fast beating heart. He thought he had this under control. He didn't see ghosts unless he meditated or focused, what is happening to him?
He reached the top of the stairs and out into the brisk chill of the air and breathed deeply, trying to clear his mind and thoughts. He walked home the rest of the way, working myself into quite the sweat under his scarf and coat. Haarken didn't think of the cold wind or the soft snow that began to fall. When he reached his building he strode up the stairs, two at a time, and fumbled with the keys until he jammed the right one into his flat's door, opened and slammed it shut behind me leaning on it and locked the door. Walking into the kitchen, he grabbed the nearly empty bottle of scotch. Shaky hands poured some into a glass and moved over to the sofa while avoiding the offending leg that assaulted his left foot that morning. He drank his scotch slowly and sighed going through the ramifications of his experience and without noticing nodded off to sleep.
Haarken wasn't sure what time it was or how long he had been asleep but was now feeling much more together and a lot clearer in the head. He had known for years that the best part of me was the subconscious himself; his mind was much clearer and calmer.
"Okay. Let's look at this logically." Haarken said aloud to himself as he put the kettle on.
I'm a minor wizard, trained and prepared for such things (supposedly)
I've dealt with ghost, shades and some other minor nasties since he was an associate apprentice of his mentor Gerald Godfrey.
I likedhelping the loved ones and those left behind on the mortal plane, help them move on, though he thought he had failed Mrs Heatherstone today, but more to the point Reggie had failed his wife.
I made a reasonable living as an antique book dealer and, on the side, a clairvoyant and referrals for that were good.
He didn't know, maybe he will go and see Gerald and get his take on what this is.
He made a cup of tea when the kettle boiled and started to put his thoughts together methodically. He started putting away the beer bottles from last night and began cleaning up the kitchen, do the dishes and change the sheets and scrubbed the bathroom and vacuumed the floor until he accidentally hexed the vacuum into smoking.
When Haarken became stressed or had a problem, he would clean, had done so for years. Simply because if he couldn't resolve the problem while he cleaned up, he could burn off the nervous energy and at least he would have cleaned up and got a fleeting sense that life is simpler. Well, that is a positive idea to build on.
Finally he realised it was time to go to bed when the lights started to dim and flicker; fatigue and hexing; went hand in hand. He realised he was exhausted. Falling into bed was the last thing he could remember, that and the smell of the fresh sheets.
His dreams were incoherent at best, at worst exhausting. He stirred and stared at the clock for a moment focusing as his dreams slipped away. Wow, he must have really slept; well he didn't know actually, having no idea of the time when he finally fell into bed. He rolled over and flicked the clock radio on and the news came over the speaker. It reported yesterday's and today's global dilemmas and the weather report.
Blurry eyed, he reached over to the phone and dialled Gerald's number and cleared his throat while it rang. The phone answered,
"Godfrey's insurance brokers; Gerald Godfrey speaking", Gerald said in his officious nasal tone into the handset.
"Hello Mister Godfrey, it's Haarken, I have a bit of a problem and I need to speak with you. I need your advice to help me clear his head about something."
"Haarken me lad, how are you, it's been a while I can tell you."
"Yes", Haarken replied, "...almost a year now. What time are you free today?" he asked trying to hide the anxious tone in his voice.
"Well let me see here" Gerald mused.
Haarken imagined he was looking through his daily planner and heard the phone shift in his hand. "Well young man, I am quite partial to the idea of a liquid lunch... at the Brown Hen if you like, say around noon?"
Gerald always said 'around about' and 'sort of' but when it came to it he kept time like a Swiss watch and it was onus upon you to be just as prompt to get the best from any meeting with him.
"Noon it is then, thanks Mister Godfrey" and they hung up.
Haarken had always found it best to keep his conversations short and to the point, no good reason for messing up a telephone. Besides, he was a busy man, usually a one-man show at his office, but from time to time Gerald had his daughter Ruby, come in and help with the paperwork and answer the phones.
Haarken rolled back over and sighed and sighed again loudly as he pulled himself up and out of bed walking straight into the bathroom for a shower and shave. The hot water did a lot to liven him up and buoyed his spirits, the weather report had said today would be fine and mild, with clear skies and a top of 3c.
"The day will be fine and mild fine and mild", he repeated to himself as if to bolster his mood and it seemed to work, he began humming and then singing in the shower to the large appreciative audience of white tiles.
Haarken jumped out and dressed up; wearing a dark woollen rollneck pullover, scarf, gloves, coat, and was out the door by 11am.
He strode confidently down the footpath for a mile, turning left and right through the narrow laneways between the high streets and into the familiar warmth of the Brown Hen.
Haarken found a booth, which wasn't hard, this pub was not frequented much by the 'normals' and few of his sorts, wizards, were up this early or this late depending how you wound your clock. Most of the clichés were true about wizards, the late hours the short tempers and half crazed image they often exude are all side effects of a life a little larger than your average Londoner.
Haarken lamented that he would love it if his only problems were that his Sky-TV wasn't working, or that he could actually watch TV. Alternatively, that he had a mortgage or hated a 9 to 5 job. He would rather that than know that vampires and werewolves were real 'oh my' and that there were more things ready and able to kill you betwixt heaven and earth Horatio than have been dreamt of.
'Betwixt', he like that word, he might try to use that one today", he mused waving at Margie the barmaid.
"A lager please darling" Haarken said with a big smile, "...and salt and vinegar crisps please".
"Ooh, have you won the lottery there Love; you are in quite the good mood today, what's her name then?"
Haarken had known Margie since he was an apprentice. He usually said associate apprentice simply because Gerald never seemed to be a full time mentor, but more of a part time con; always looking for an easy way to make a quid or gain sway with the fae courts. Gerald even roped Haarken in on a few of his little side projects when Haarken was younger.
Margie was a bottled blonde rubenesque woman in her late forties and had a kind warm smile, she did however have the one thing we English have in abundance, and that is crooked teeth. Her skin was that of a Majorca devotee, tanned and wrinkled around the face, he wouldn't say weathered, but would say sun beaten. She did have quite the ample bosom and knew it, so liked to carry off the beer wench act sometimes with new patrons, it seemed to work well for her. Today she had a low cut aqua blouse with an orange bauble necklace that swung in front of her cleavage.
"Right Love, come and get it." she said quite matter-of-factly.
"Ta" he said giving her a fiver.
"So what's 'er name then, it's nice to see that chipper smile back on yer face".
Haarken smiled and laughed, "That's the reason I'm smiling Margie. There is no woman! Keeping life simple", he continued, "I'm meeting Gerald here in a few minutes, could you pour out another for him please."
"Righto Love" she replied.
He gave her another fiver and she walked off to pour another lager.
Margie had some wizarding talent, the kind most commonly referred to as a kitchen witch, her bent on magic was to seduce the wealthy older gentlemen and get them to take her to Majorca for the summers, and to this day she has been gone every summer with a new whirlwind romance. She wasn't a lawbreaker but she did perfect a potent romance potion and aphrodisiacs to aid her.
Haarken returned to his booth and sat down squelching into the worn red leather. Gerald arrived right on queue and Margie greeted him and raised the lager, he smiled and he collected it on the way over to where Haarken was sitting.
"Cheers me old son", he took a rather large gulp from the pint glass and drank down a third, "Aaaah" he exclaimed, "I needed that I don't mind telling you."
Gerald smiled broadly and then sat back into the leather on his side of the booth.
"So, what's upset you so much Haarken?" he said in a more serious tone.
Haarken sighed and related his experience of what happened on the tube the previous day and how it had shocked him.
"That's not like you," Gerald said chiding, "You're a cool cucumber in a rumble. Better than me most times" he admitted with a smile.
"Usually to see the departed I have to focus and concentrate or use a circle and evoke them, not since I was a child had I seen a shade without using a summoning" Haarken explained.
"Well then, seems like you are coming into your power a little more, I did size you up when you first came to me and you did have plenty of potential, just not in the directions I use myself" Gerald added.
"God never gives you more than you can handle," he said laughing ironically.
Generally, wizards aren't Protestants or Church of England. We sort of have a different angle on the whole heaven and hell thing and usually avoid the religious types if we can; well at least I did anyway. Haarken 'hmmmed' at Gerald's statement.
"Can't God see that I have too much on my plate at the moment?"
Gerald took another large draft from his lager and took a few salt and vinegar crisps. He sat back and mused, "You know lad, I was quite pleased you found me all those years ago, you have done me a lot of good you have."
He supposed Gerald meant that he had been around and could answer his phones and see clients during his study sessions when he was out about town. Haarken did spend quite a lot of time on his own in his offices and always had one of his old magic books out pouring over the spells and magical theory. He had even taken a few night courses in Latin and taught himself how to speak read and write rather well.
Gerald had filled in a fair few wholes in his knowledge here or there but Haarken knew from the first week that his talents lay in a different direction than what Gerald could teach; but he had been glad of the fact that he had taken me under his wing, when he was there of course, and guided him in the right direction. Gerald had even taken Haarken to Edinburgh with him once in the early days and Haarken was utterly in awe. He had already read the first book of what would later become a cash-cow series for JK Rowlings and Edinburgh poo-pooed all over that.
Gerald tucked into a few more chips and waved Margie for a refill and considered carefully.
"I am going to give you the address of someone who may be able to offer you help in the sticky Ectomancy problem of yours".
He took out a pen and one of his business cards and wrote down an address on the back.
"She is quite the sensitive in Ectomancy and her advice on this would be right up your alley" he smiled.
Before he passed Haarken the card he said, "Could you do me a little favour?"
"Here we go", Haarken said to himself as he rolled his eyes. Gerald's little favours usually ran quite close to either the normal or the White Council law, the last time he barely outran the police and wasn't even sure why he was running.
Haarken sighed and asked, "Alright, what is it this time?"
"Don't be like that", he said, "Don't I do right by you?
"...most of the time" they said at the same time, he laughed heartily. Haarken didn't.
"It's Ruby" he went sombre for a moment; "I'd like you to check out the company she's keeping of late. I sense some bad influences on her and I'm not talkin' about anything 'usual'".
Usual meant mundane and non-magical to Gerald, he continued, "She's got a new crowd and has turned a bit girth",
"Girth" Haarken questioned. Had she stacked on the weight since he had seen her last he wondered?
"Yeah girth, you know, she's wearin' black and dyed her hair black and her make up makes her look dead – girth" he finished.
"Oh you mean Goth', realising what Gerald meant, "she's gone Goth.
"Girth, Goth, whatever it is it isn't good for her" he said in a genuinely worried tone. Give her a ring tonight and see what's what."
Haarken was relieved it wasn't a shady deal and agreed promptly.