Chapter 6: Apparently, Black Cars Are Always Evil
When finally the plane landed in London, John and Philippa led the way to find their luggage. Around them, everyone who had seen the news that morning were muttering to each other about the mysterious storm system that had suddenly vanished halfway across the Atlantic Ocean. The five ignored this talk, however, and Holly had just collected her red suitcases and messenger bag, feeling slightly perturbed, when someone shouted across the terminal at them.
"Light my lamp, I'd thought you'd never arrive!" Holly looked past the crowds of people, trying to see who had shouted. Then she saw him. Nimrod, the twins' uncle, looking exactly as he had in Holly's dream, even down to the huge cigar he was smoking and the strawberry-coloured tie he was wearing. Holly bristled. How was it possible, she asked herself, for her to dream up someone and then see them in real life? Holly blinked. Then she blinked again. Nimrod was still there, waving at them with great gusto. The twins smiled and waved back at him, then began to walk towards him. Holly had little choice but to follow them, along with Mark and Cas.
"Hello, Uncle Nimrod." John said when at last they reached him. "These are our friends, Cas Malone, Holly Coomes and her brother Mark."
"I must say that I am very pleased to meet you all. I've been waiting here for nearly an hour just to do so!" Nimrod smiled and shook Mark's hand until Mark felt as though he was experiencing a miniature earthquake. Perhaps sensing this, Nimrod released Holly's older brother, only to repeat the process with Cas. To Holly, however, Nimrod bowed deeply, a great show of manners. Holly was flattered, and felt a blush creeping up her face. "Is that all of your luggage?" Nimrod asked, straightening up and raising an eyebrow at Holly's bright red suitcases.
"Yes, sir!" Cas said cheerfully. He was quite unaware that Holly's mind was working at about 88 miles per hour. Nimrod frowned vaguely.
"First thing's first," he said. "I absolutely refuse to have you call me 'sir.' I have a perfectly good name, and I invite you all to use it. Call me Nimrod, please."
"Okay, Nimrod. You can call us three by our first names, too." Mark said.
"That's better. Now, if I may ask, young man, what is 'Cas' short for?" Nimrod asked Cas as he led them out of the airport terminal and to the street outside.
"Castiel." Cas replied jovially. He already liked Nimrod well enough to admit that Castiel was his actual name.
"Indeed? Well, I recall that I once met the angel Castiel. A very agreeable fellow, I must say. Now, let's find Groanin with the car." Nimrod responded, but stopped abruptly to squint at either end of the street.
"Uncle Nimrod?" Philippa asked quietly, sensing that Nimrod was looking for something. Nimrod shook his head, ever so slightly. This gesture seemed to escape the notice of Cas, Mark, and John, but Holly, still on edge and vigilant, noticed something. Out of the corner of her eye, Holly saw a black Ferrari parked down the street. Holly didn't quite know what it was about this car that perturbed her, but she was suddenly certain that Nimrod wanted to avoid it, though an exact reason for this eluded her.
"There's Mr. Groanin!" John said, oblivious of the sinister-looking Ferrari, and pointed to a shiny, maroon-and-silver Rolls-Royce. Holly's apprehension immediately became deluged in a feeling of excitement. She was going to get to ride through London in style! The only cars she had ever been in were Mark's old Chevy pickup truck and her stepmother's Station Wagon.
Nimrod shepherded them all across the street to the Rolls-Royce, whereupon a very corpulent bald Englishman with a temperament befitting a Lancashire undertaker got out of the driver's seat.
"This is my butler, Mr. Groanin." Nimrod announced. "There will be time later for further introductions, but we're rather pressed for time right now. Pile in, good people. Groanin and I will deal with your luggage, won't we, Groanin?"
"Yes sir." Groanin mumbled irritably, but took the twins' luggage from them with a faint, but warm, smile all the same.
"Thank you," Holly said politely as she handed Nimrod her suitcases and followed John and Philippa into the back seat of the Rolls, with Cas on her heels.
"It looks more like an office than a car," Cas observed when they were all seated comfortably, Holly sandwiched between him and Philippa, Mark, John, and Nimrod seated across from them. John nodded in agreement.
A second later, Groanin started the car up.
"This is a fantastic car you've got, Nimrod!" Holly said cheerfully.
Nimrod nodded amiably. "Yes, isn't it? Red is such a versatile colour."
Holly was about to reply when she noticed that the ominous-looking black Ferrari was directly behind them. They were being followed! But by whom?
Philippa noticed Holly staring and followed her gaze. Then Philippa looked back at her uncle meaningfully. Nimrod nodded, and muttered something.
"What was that you said, Nimrod?" Mark asked.
"Oh, nothing. Nothing at all. Tell me, Mark, have you ever travelled abroad before?"
"Nope, that's part of the reason I'm here with Holly. It's been on my bucket list for a long, long time." Mark grinned and looked out the window as a red double-decker bus passed them by. Holly, who had turned at the sound of her name, looked back out of the back window at the black Ferrari, only to find that it was not there anymore. Holly frowned. She was absolutely sure that it had been there only a split-second before she had looked back. Nimrod continued to interview Mark and Cas about themselves, and attempted to do the same to Holly, only Holly was too caught up in trying to figure out where the black Ferrari had gone and how it had seemed to vanish so quickly and without a trace.
Cas noticed how distracted and anxious his best friend seemed, but he also noticed that Nimrod seemed distracted and anxious in a similar way. Both Nimrod and Holly were biting their fingernails nervously, as though in sync with each other, but neither seemed to notice.
Groanin steered the Rolls-Royce expertly through the winding streets of London, past Kensington Gardens, and to Nimrod's estate.
"Ah, here we are at last! My humble abode," Nimrod swept his arm smoothly at the house, that hardly seemed humble. Holly thought it looked like a medieval palace from France. Cas thought it resembled (if vaguely) the Brighton Pavilion. Mark was reminded of those faraway places that he had only heard of in Grimm fairy tales. "John, Philippa, please show your guests the greatest courtesy possible, and all of you, please do not trespass upon my Xenia."
"Your what?" John asked his uncle curiously as they began to exit the Rolls.
"Greek hospitality," Holly, Cas, and Nimrod answered him as one.
"Well, I see that you two know what Xenia is. The ancient Greeks, also known as the Mycenaeans, were very particular in the way they received guests,"
"Yes," Cas picked up where Nimrod left off, "In The Odyssey, which we read before Christmas break, Penelope's suitors violate Xenia in almost every way possible!"
"Which is why," Holly added, recounting the most memorable part of the story (at least in her opinion,) with a slightly bloodthirsty smile, "When Odysseus finally makes it home, he and his son Telemachus kill them all!"
Nimrod coughed awkwardly. "Yes, well. That was the way of ancient Greece. Nowadays, people tend to be more civilized in their viewpoints." Mr. Groanin muttered something to himself as he unloaded the trunk of the car. Nimrod ignored him, and after a curious glance in Groanin's direction, so did John and Philippa. "In any case," Nimrod continued, as though he hadn't been interrupted, "Castiel, Holly, Mark, I'd like to present you each with your own copy of the book Arabian Nights, as a gift from a host to his guests."