A Visit Home

Jessica’s nerves were still racing, but she focused enough to answer the question. “If it’s who I think it is, then yes,” she said. “Their power rivals the Blackstone empire.”

“Just what I like to hear,” Chesterfield muttered. “Adrian, go see if Rorric has any information. Specifically look up clarristone mines. That might give us a better idea.”

Adrian saluted, disappearing into a wide archway. Chesterfield was muttering under his breath. “They’ve never had access to clarristone mines before. Why would they now?”

For the first time, Jessica took the opportunity to look around. From the outside, Chesterfield’s proposed safe house looked like a castle. From the inside, it wasn’t much different. Dark stone lined the walls of the entry hall, which were interspersed with archways to other halls and rooms. There were some modernizations, however. Chesterfield stood at one, a touchscreen computer set into the wall by an arch.

“Ma’am,” Bess, one of her assistants, caught her attention, “We’re getting reports from the other sites. Power was taken down at one, another was hacked and the systems went haywire. Two were untouched. None were…” she paused, and Rhode, her second assistant finished.

“None of them were bombed, ma’am.” He nodded with a faint smile, like it was good news.

Jessica supposed it was. It meant her employees and clients were safe. But the concerted attack left her feeling nauseous. It meant they weren’t just after her – they were after her empire.

“That’s not surprising,” Chesterfield said. “Clarristone is hard to come by. The fact they used a bomb for you is telling.” He turned away without further explanation.

Jessica supposed she didn’t need any, really. She knew how powerful and rare clarristone was, even more after experiencing an explosion herself, but she was still left with resentment. Why did he have to be so infuriatingly pointed in the way he ignored her?

“Hello, sir,” said a tinny voice. Jessica turned to find a tall automaton approaching through another archway, “You didn’t say you would be bringing guests.”

“I almost always bring guests, Jeevers,” Chesterfield said, glancing over his shoulder. The discrepancy in size would have made Jessica chuckle, if she wasn’t still feeling shell-shocked.

“As you say, sir,” Jeevers replied. He bowed to the other three. “May I take your coats?”

“And show them to the guest rooms, Jeevers. They need rest.” Chesterfield said the words almost nonchalantly, but it was the first time she had heard anything akin to care out of his mouth. “Oh, and could you get some tea for them?” He finished whatever he was typing and motioned. “I’ll be in the library.”

“Yes, sir,” Jeevers said, reaching out for their coats. Jessica and her assistants gave them over, then followed as he led the way down the hall. Jessica felt pressure on her back, supporting her as she stepped forward. She assumed it was Rhode – he was a former medical professional, and took her health and well-being personally. Bess, on the other hand, was the one whispering positive affirmations and encouragements. She knew how far to take it without being overbearing – Jessica appreciated the attention to the distinction.

Jeevers said nothing as they took a flight of stairs to a warm second floor. Here, he showed them to two rooms, each with two beds in them. “The bathroom is right across the hall,” he said, “But I will warn you, the water takes a second to warm up.” He left them with a smile, promising to return quickly with the tea.

It did not take long before Jessica slipped to unconsciousness, still wearing the same stained, sooty clothes. Her sleep at first was fitful, with visions of explosions and the red fire reaching for her. As the night wore on, her dreams calmed, burying her with a white world where nothing existed, besides her.

When she awoke, she found tea sitting on the table just inside the door, with a change of clothes beside it. In the hall, her assistants met her. They were already cleaned and wearing new clothes. “Jeevers said he was bringing up breakfast in a few minutes,” Bess said. “There should be enough time if you’d like to get a bath?”

“Or a shower if you’d prefer,” Rhode said. “It’s capable of both.”

Jessica sighed. “Advice on my bathing choices is where I draw the line,” she said, raising a hand.

After finishing a short bath and breakfast, Jeevers led them back downstairs to the cold first floor. He led them back down the first hallway, pausing outside one of the archways. 

They turned into brightly lit room. Unlike the hall, this was bursting with life and color, with a red and gold paisley rug and wall-hung lanterns. In between the lanterns were bookcases, filled to overflowing with tomes of all shapes and sizes.

Chesterfield was standing in front of the far bookshelf. A plate of half-finished food was on the table near him, ignored in the face of his research. As they entered, he looked up, nodding at them. He crossed the room, holding out a book in Jessica’s direction. “This will help you,” he said.

Jessica took the book with curiosity. It was dark green, lightened in places with age, with gold lettering that read, “Remembrances.”

“Who wrote this?” she asked, looking up as she opened the book.

A new voice, matronly and warm in manner, answered her. “You did, my dear.”

Jessica turned toward the voice as it continued. “Or, at any rate, you will.”

It belonged to ghostly old woman, standing in the light of a lantern. She leaned forward on a cane, smiling pleasantly.

“Hello, Mother,” Chesterfield said, with the same matter-of-fact tone.

“Hello, Norvall, dear,” his mother said, smiling at him now. She turned back. “You must be Jessica. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“No, you haven’t, Mother,” Chesterfield said, closing the book he was studying and setting it down. He turned, exasperated. “You only know what you know because you’re in my head. No other reason.” He sighed. “Why do I even bother? You’re not even here.”

“What do you mean?” Bess asked. “I can see her right there.”

Chesterfield motioned to the lantern behind his mother. “She’s not actually here. She’s just a projection.”

“She’s a ghost?” Jessica asked, stepping forward.

“More like a memory, dear,” Chesterfield’s mother said, giving her another smile.

“A part of the house,” Chesterfield said. “It would take too long to explain, and I need you to research what you know.”

“Just part of the house?” a new voice, more like Chesterfield’s, added. A new figure flickered into a visibility at another lantern. The face reminded Jessica of Chesterfield, but it was older, somehow. And the body was taller. “Is that really how you think of us, Chesterfield?”

Chesterfield had turned back to his book, and didn’t bother turning around. “I thought Adrian was talking with you.”

The figure waved a hand as, if on cue, Adrian walked into the library. “Rude, Rorrick. Very, very rude.”

“You’re one to talk,” the ghostly man said. “Barging into my office and demanding answers.”

“Did he say anything useful?” Chesterfield asked, grunting as he read something Jessica assumed was unpleasant.

“The usual run-around,” Adrian said, crossing the room to the bookshelf. He picked up another book, opening it to a random page, “But he did tell us this.” He traded the book with Chesterfield and both studied their respective pages.

“If you’re his mother,” Jessica said, looking at the two figures in turn, “Who are you?”

“Rorrick,” the man said, “I’m his older brother.” He gave a carefree smile. “And you’re Jessica Blackstone. We’ve heard a lot about you.”

His voice wasn’t teasing, but careful and threatening.

“Your mother said the same thing,” Jessica said. She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Tell me. If you’re his brother, you must know. What’s his real name? The one before he became Chesterfield?”

Both gave her puzzles expressions, but it was Chesterfield who answered. “They won’t tell you any sooner than I will.” He walked over and opened the book in her hands, his eyes flashing. “Whatever I was before Chesterfield died with Rorrick and my mother. Now, read.”

Jessica faltered as Bess and Rhode stepped forward to defend her, but Chesterfield was already walking away to confer with Adrian.”

“Are you okay, ma’am?” Bess asked, obviously readying statements if Jessica responded with a no. Rhode studied her, making sure she wasn’t about to faint.

“Yeah,” Jessica said, staring past them vacantly, in Chesterfield’s direction. She brought herself out of it, looking down at the page. A confused expression crossed her face. “It’s blank, Chesterfield.”

“No, it’s not,” Chesterfield said. “Your mind is.” He turned back. “You’ve never used Remembrances?”

“Not that I know,” Jessica said.

Chesterfield made a small noise of interest. “Think about a topic. Whatever you know about it will come up.”

She was embarrassed as she looked down and saw a picture of Chesterfield, complete with the short history she knew, staring back at her. Quickly, she refocused her mind and the words blurred, coming back into clarity.

As a grainy picture of a man from the 1920’s came into focus, Jeevers walked through the door, laying down a tray on a table. The scent caught Jessica’s attention. “Rosehip?” she asked, looking up at the automaton. “That’s my favorite.”

“I know,” Jeevers said. “That’s why I brought it.” He gave a smile, then disappeared again. 

Jessica pushed the odd statement aside, taking a seat at the table and studying the pages. It was on the Crowlings, which wasn’t surprising. The picture was of Edgar Crowling, the original patriarch of the family. The one her grandfather had known.

The one they had cheated to get where they were now.

There was nothing new in her reading. She had told Chesterfield as much as she had remembered, and the book added nothing. “It says they’re primarily in South America now,” she said, finally finding something she hadn’t remembered earlier.

Chesterfield looked over at her. “The Crowlings?” He nodded, “That’s where the Agency has tracked them. But there hasn’t been any word of them moving, or setting up a proxy group here.” He studied her. “And there’s no one else who would have a reason to try and kill you and bring you down?”

“No one that I can think of,” Jessica said. “Blackstone Incorporated helps everyone who comes through our doors. The only ones we have any sordid history with is the Crowlings.”

Chesterfield looked back at his paper. “But where would they have gotten clarristone? There are no veins anywhere in South America. Unless they’ve been holding onto it for all these years, but they wouldn’t have used it for something like this.”

“Unless it wasn’t clarristone,” Adrian said.

“We saw the residue ourselves,” Chesterfield pointed out, but Adrian lifted a finger. Then, with great care, he pointed at the page. Chesterfield read it, his brow furrowing as he tried to understand. “By that theory,” he said, his voice trailing off.

“There’s more to this than we thought,” Adrian confirmed. There was a glint in his eyes – Jessica had seen it before. He was a thrill-seeker and risk-taker. Why anyone would want him to be their driver was beyond her.

“What are you talking about?” Jessica asked, pushing her book aside and standing.

As Chesterfield began to speak, Jeevers reentered. “Sir,” he said, his tone polite, “There seem to be more visitors approaching.”

“Show me,” Chesterfield said, but he wasn’t addressing the automaton. Another lantern sprang to life, showing an aerial perspective of the castle. Four heavy SUVs were approaching, while a larger tactical van followed behind.

Chesterfield cursed. “We aren’t done,” he said. “We need more time.”

“We don’t have more time,” Adrian said. “We have a lead. That’s more than what we had before we came here.”

“Tell me I need to leave,” Chesterfield said, a bite of anger rising in his throat.

Adrian, Rorrick and his mother spoke in unison. “You need to leave.”

“And whatever you do,” his mother said firmly, “You do not need to fight.”

A fourth lantern flickered, and for a moment, Jessica could see a dark shape. “Shut up!” Chesterfield said, spinning on it. The lantern clicked off, a haunting chuckle disappearing with it.

“Vengeance is for another day,” Rorrick said. “And through the proper channels.”

“And if no other reason,” Adrian added, “You’re still hurt.”

“Where else can we go?” Chesterfield asked. “We got what, not even a day out of this? Who would even know to send them here?”

“It is the Crowlings,” Adrian pointed out. “Of all people, it’s the least surprising that it’s them.”

Chesterfield cursed again, his gaze lingering on the dark lantern. “I said,” he muttered, “shut up.” He looked back at his mother and brother. “Can you keep them busy?”

“Yeah,” Rorrick said, cracking his knuckles, “Just let me at them, Chesterfield.”

Chesterfield laughed, a hint of bitterness with it. “Enjoy the small taste of vengeance, Rorrick.”

“I will likewise do my best to keep them occupied, sir,” Jeevers interjected.

His earnestness brought a smile to Chesterfield’s lips. “I know you will, Jeevers.” He looked at the others, forcing that dangerous glint into his eyes. “Well. Ready to go?”

“Where are we going?” Jessica asked.

“The main entrance is blocked,” Adrian said, pulling a backpack out of… somewhere and tossing the books into it. “But there’s an underground network of tunnels.” He took the book from her hands and added it to his collection. “We’ll get out that way.”

“And then to where?” Jessica asked.

“With any luck,” Chesterfield said, “To answers.”

Jessica shot him a frustrated look, but he ignored it. She had forgotten how infuriating the Agency’s cryptic ways were. Jessica wanted it straight, no bluff or fluff. Their way of leaving more questions than answers was antagonizing.

Chesterfield nodded to his family and Jeevers, then brought them out of the library, down the hall and through another archway. The only thing here where two doors, a lock on their handles. Chesterfield produced a key and pulled them open, revealing an opening into the floor.

A flight of stairs spiraled into the darkness, guarded by a thin metal handrail. “I love visiting the depths,” Adrian said, flashing a grin, then stepping onto the stairs behind Chesterfield.

“Miss Blackstone?” Bess asked.

“We don’t have a choice,” Jessica said, then forged ahead.

The staircase fell black as the door closed behind them. How long it went, Jessica wasn’t sure, but finally, it began to grow bright again. At the base, she found Chesterfield holding a torch. Adrian handed her one from a cache in the wall, lighting his own against Chesterfield’s.

“What is this place, Chesterfield?” Jessica asked, letting her light travel across the walls. Were those chains?

Chesterfield took so long to respond that Jessica thought she hadn’t been heard. Finally, so quiet it was barely audible, he said, “This is where nightmares go to die.”

They started walking, Jessica inspecting every oddity she could see. The walls were dry, which felt the opposite of most cave systems Jessica found herself in. And the roof felt much higher than it should have been, given how far they had walked on the staircase.

Chesterfield was quiet, but not in his usual stoic way. Instead, he seemed pensive, occasionally muttering to himself. Snippets of words came through, but Jessica couldn’t make them out.

“Have you been down here before?” she asked Adrian.

“Once,” he said, grimacing. “That was enough for me.”

“Shut up,” Chesterfield hissed. He looked at them, his eyes shining. “Not you. You can keep talking.” He turned forward. “You can shut up, though. I left you upstairs.”

A voice, not heard, but felt, touched Jessica’s heart. “No… You didn’t. In fact, you came down where I live.”

“I need to focus,” Chesterfield said, taking quick strides ahead. “I need you out of my head!”

“What’s going on?” Jessica asked.

“This isn’t good,” Adrian said, motioning for her to stay put. He crept forward, sticking out his torch to illuminate Chesterfield’s back. “Hey, Chesterfield. Are you okay? Do you need a moment to breathe?”

Chesterfield’s dogged stride had come to an end, and he stood motionless. Even in the dim light, Jessica could see some kind of struggle going on. It was reminiscent of a were-beast trying not to turn, but nothing she had ever seen about Chesterfield even hinted that he might be a lycanthrope.

The torch fell from his shaking hand, and he stumbled away from the light. “Leave me alone!” he shouted. “You don’t belong!”

The voice came again, stronger. “Give up, Chesterfield. You’re not strong enough fight, but you’re certainly not strong enough to run away.”

Chesterfield disappeared behind rock and a bend, but they could still hear him yelling.

“I said, shut up, FESTERCHILD!”

On the last word, his voice pitched downward, becoming a guttural roar that echoed along the cavern, chilling their blood and leaving Jessica’s heart racing.

“Chesterfield?” Adrian called, taking a hesitant step forward.

A figure stepped out of the shadow, but it was not the Chestefield that had gone behind. This new one stood taller than all of them. The face was similar, but the visage was twisted, with angry, hungry eyes that watched them. A slow smile spread across his face, almost gleeful, but at the same time, feral.

“Why, Adrian Lapeer. What a charming surprise.”

“I’d say it’s a pleasure,” Adrian said, holding the torch up like it was a sword, “But I’m guessing it’s not. You’re Festerchild, I assume?”

“The one and the same,” Festerchild said with a small bow. He looked at the confused expressions of Jessica and her assistants. “Ah, Chesterfield hasn’t told you about me, I see. Of course he wouldn’t.” He laughed as he stepped further into the light. “Don’t worry, Miss Blackstone. I won’t hurt you. Chesterfield is afraid of that, of course, but I have no ill will against you.” He looked up into the distance. “As for those following you…Those are men that I would love to see dead and joined in my collection.”

He noticed the further confusion and smiled in the same feral way. “Go on your way, and leave me about my business.” He picked up Chesterfield’s torch and lit it against Adrian’s. With a sneer, he pushed past them. “Oh, Rorrick,” he said, purposefully loud enough for the rest of them to hear, “Why did you ever encourage me to pacifism? All of us were wasted on it.”

“Wait,” Jessica said. “You’re Chesterfield’s twin?”

Festerchild paused, turning back. “No, Miss Blackstone. I am what Chesterfield could be. What he should be.” His voice dropped, but still carried through the air. “I am power, and I am ruin. I am destruction, and I am vengeance.” He smiled, running his tongue over his teeth. “If you want to succeed, Miss Blackstone, sometimes you need to let the dark thoughts win.”

Then he turned away and strode toward the staircase.

“Come on,” Adrian said, reaching back and grabbing her arm, “Let’s go.”

He led them into a run deeper into the darkness. How long it was, Jessica couldn’t say. But, at some point, a terrible roar started behind him, spurring them faster. As they ran, it faded into the darkness behind, but hung in Jessica’s mind like leech.

Adrian guided them to a place where the land began to slope up, and after a short incline, they found themselves at the mouth of a cave. “This’ll give us the head start we need,” he said, shifting his backpack up and starting out of the cave.

Jessica followed, and as she exited, she found herself looking at the distant shape of Chesterfield’s safe house. Her breath caught. Before, when they approached, it had been strong and square, each battlement in perfect alignment with each other. Now, it had grown barbs – the towers at the corners wore spikes along the balustrade, and what looked like barbed wire ran along the walls.

“What happened?” she asked.

Adrian looked back from where he was helping Bess catch her breath. He muttered something under his breath, but out loud, said, “Between the invaders and Festerchild? I’m surprised it’s looking that good.” He reached out a hand. “We don’t have much choice, Miss Blackstone. If we want to come out of this alright, we need to beat the Crowlings to their next goal.”

She let herself be led away. “And what’s that?”

Adrian sighed, looking her in the eyes. “We need get to your grandfather’s ship.”

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