Moonshadow (20 page)

“You can borrow the car,” Eric said and then held out the keys, his head still bowed.

Diana snatched up the keys and then ran to the other side of the table to hug Eric.

“Thank you!” she exclaimed. “I promise I will treat her like my own dear child. Nothing will happen—I swear.”

Eric lifted his head up, still looking rather worried. He knew Diana, and her clumsiness, too well for her promises to ease his nerves.

“Just be safe,” he said.

“We will,” Diana assured him and then turned to Darien. “Shall we be off?”

Darien smirked at the clever way she deceitfully manipulated her friends and then stood up from his half-eaten plate of food. “After you.”

Chapter 12

And pointed metal broke the mirrored lake.

From blessed water’s surface, rose an arm

Clad in samite white as the mystic Moon

Clutching shaft of Chalice Queen’s Destined Spear.

Though her nerves were on edge behind the wheel of Eric’s old Pontiac, Diana couldn’t help but enjoy the drive.

It took about an hour for the flat farmland of south-eastern Ohio to transition into anything that could be called the Hocking Hills. Once it had, Diana was immediately struck by the beauty of the rural setting of rolling hillsides filled with richly colored trees. Being mid-autumn, the leaves were the deepest hues of orange and red. Very soon those same leaves would all be gone, leaving only the skeletal remnants of the trees.

Darien had proven to be the perfect driving companion. Though they would occasionally discuss a topic if it came to either of their minds, Darien kept peacefully to himself. Diana usually found silent drives with someone to be rather awkward, but with Darien, she knew the tranquility was mutually appreciated and they just enjoyed the experience of the drive together. They was simply no need to force a conversation.

Diana yawned for the fifth time in ten minutes and realized that, though she enjoyed the peace, a sleepy driver was dangerous.

“Are we almost to the exit?” she asked her navigator.

“We should see it in a few minutes,” Darien replied before looking at the map again to make sure. “We’re looking for a town called Wellington. Flinders’ estate is on a hill just south of the town.”

“This would be so much easier if you could just use the GPS on my phone.”

“I’m doing just fine the old fashioned way, thank you.”

As he said, the exit finally appeared a few minutes later and Diana merged off of the highway and unto a smaller county road. A half an hour after that the little town of Wellington appeared, though finding the next stage of their journey proved to be very difficult using the “old fashioned” method.

Another hour passed before they found the overgrown dirt road that led to the land Flinders had once owned. The forest had crept up to either side and had been left to grow unchecked for several decades.

“I hope I don’t hurt the car,” Diana said as she sucked it up and slowly drove up the winding path very carefully.

“It’ll be fine. If anything happens to it, I’m sure Anderon and Maurice can do something to fix it. If not, we’ll pay for the repairs.”

Somehow, that didn’t do much to ease Diana’s nerves.

A few minutes of veritable jungle later, they finally cleared the road and reached their destination.

Within a clearing of trees stood a large, colonial-style, redbrick farmhouse with dark green shutters and two flanking chimneys. The house had no doubt been magnificent at one time; now though, it was a dilapidated old building that looked to be standing up by some mysterious will of its own.

“I bet no one has stepped foot in that house in fifty years,” Diana exclaimed as she investigated the building through the windshield of the car.

“Probably more,” Darien replied. “If I had to venture a guess, I would say no one has been on these grounds since before Flinders died.”

“That was like eighty years ago,” Diana said with wonder. “How did no one think to come here after he died?”

“Flinders had no children or family that I know of. Though they were of the gentry, his parents died when he was young and his only sister married a viscount, I believe, and didn’t much care her brother.”

“What about burglars, or kids playing around?”

“This place is a little too far from urban life for burglars to take notice of it. As for local children, I don’t know.” Darien looked around as he thought it over.

“Honestly,” Diana said gazing upon the cracking windows and rotting shutters. “I wouldn’t want to play around here. It’s giving me the creeps just looking at it.”

“A fair point, my dear. Shall we have a look?” He sounded very excited and was out of the car in seconds.

As Darien looked on Flinders’ old house with a sparkle in his eye, Diana couldn’t help but smile. He looked like a little boy going on an adventure. He’d likely been cooped up for too long. She couldn’t imagine what it must have been like to go on 130 years’ worth of expeditions and excavations. She’d be going crazy if she were stuck on a mundane college campus knowing that she could be out in the world somewhere, exploring ruins or investigating lost histories. After so long, Darien knew he was getting closer to the Chalice and it excited him.

It was cute.

Before exiting the car, Diana reached into the backseat and grabbed the bag of questing-essentials she’d packed before leaving campus. Now fully prepared for adventure, she quickly joined Darien on the rotting wrap-around front porch that had once been painted white. 

“Lead the way,” Diana said with a wide smile.

Darien opened the large wooden door and Diana let out a startled yelp as it swung out all the way and then fell off of its hinges, landing on the porch with thud. The force of the impact cracked more of the wooden porch.

Peering through the newly opened entryway, Diana realized the inside of the house looked about as safe as the front door.

“Age before beauty,” she said with sideways grin.

Darien just smirked and nodded. “Wait here a moment while I assess the danger.”

While he stepped over the threshold, Diana rummaged inside her bag for the flashlight. Once it was in hand, she flipped on the light and was immediately glad she thought to bring it. 

Darien quickly returned and took Diana by the hand, leading her around a particularly large hole in the floor that she hadn’t noticed just beyond the doorway, even with the flashlight.

The majority of the ground floor was in a general state of rot and decay—cracked and splintered floorboards, pieces of the ceiling that had fallen to the floor or atop the worn furniture. It was if an entire nation of termites had made the house their home for decades.

“Watch your step,” Darien warned, not once letting go of Diana’s hand.

“I’m pretty much only going to step where you tell me to,” she replied.

“That is probably for the best. Manipulating wood and timber is beyond my abilities, but I can slightly sense which areas are the most stable.”

“That’s useful.”

The ground floor contained nothing of interest, and was mostly empty of furnishings altogether. Flinders apparently hadn’t lived in the house for quite some time before he died. Other than a few cans of
extremely
old beans in the kitchen pantry, there were no signs of human occupation.

They found the basement just as empty save for some old wine casks, broken bottles, and an old wooden table that had long ago been eaten up by termites. Darien lost much of his boyish excitement when they admitted defeat in the less-than-exciting basement.

“Hopefully there’s something up here,” Diana assured him as they carefully ascended the large staircase leading to the second floor. She fought the urge to grab a hold of the bannister as it would most likely just fall apart and send Diana sprawling to her doom.

“Perhaps,” Darien replied, sounding unhopeful. “Though anything substantial would have been hidden in the basement somewhere.”

“I know, I know,” she replied sardonically. “You thought for sure you’d felt an anomaly down there, but there wasn’t anything. Even the great Seeker, Endymion Stoneheart, can be wrong about his hunches from time to time.”

“Well then, Seeker Diana,” Darien said playfully, hiding his irritation. “You can lead our investigation for the remainder of the evening.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she agreed with a nod. “And tone down the sass, mister.”

Darien just smirked smugly in reply and Diana opened the first door she came to at the top of the stairs.

Her mouth agape in wonder, Diana gazed on the considerably not-empty room before her—it appeared to be Foxwell Flinders’ personal library.

Though left to rot for decades, it was still a sight to behold. Shelves of books lined the walls, as well as cases of various antiques and artifacts, and Diana couldn’t help but recognize how similar the room was to Darien’s study back at the university. Even their large antique wooden desks looked to have been made by the same craftsman.

Darien quickly walked past Diana and then stood in the center of the room to look around.

“It looks remarkably like his study in England,” he said. “I visited it several times when I was searching for him.”

“Did you hire his decorator while you were there?” Diana asked with a grin.

Darien shrugged his shoulders. “If I’m going to live like a human, it might as well be one I respected.”

Already lost in his own thoughts, Darien walked over to the desk and began pushing around the pile of aged yellow papers. “What happened to you, Foxwell?” he muttered to himself.

Diana decided to let Darien be alone with his memories and musings. With growing excitement, she swiftly made her way to the bookshelves.

The collection was considerably smaller than the corpus of books that Flinders had bequeathed to the university, though Diana did recognize a few duplicates. From the eclectic mix of subjects, this particular library must have contained the man’s most personal favorites and the books not meant for the university. She saw tomes on the British Empire and other European countries, histories of Africa, the Middle East, China, and Japan, and even books on religious and philosophical thought such as the works of Plato and Aristotle. The majority of the collection, however, was fiction. Flinders must have owned every famous work of literature to have been written, from the epics of Homer, all the way to the first edition of
The Great Gatsby
sitting on the end table next to the reading couch.

Considering the masterpiece of F. Scott Fitzgerald, Diana wondered if it was the last book to have been read within that room. Looking to the shelves again, she didn’t recognize a single book published after 1930.

“Oh my god.” Diana said in surprise.

“What is it?” Darien asked, intrigued. “Did you find something we can use?”

“Even better,” Diana replied, her excitement spreading into a wide smile. “First editions of
Pride & Prejudice
and
Northanger Abbey
—my favorite Jane Austen novels!”

She grabbed the two books off of the shelf and held them in her arms like the precious treasures that they were.

Darien stared at her in disbelief.

“What?” Diana said, her expression all defense. “It’s not stealing. Flinders died a long time ago and no one came to claim his estate—that’s a clear-cut case of Finders versus Keepers.”

She smiled wide in triumph.

Darien shook his head. “We have more important things to do than collect old novels, Diana. If Flinders left anything behind that will lead us to the Chalice, it’s likely in this room.”

“But—but it’s Jane…” Diana said with feigned disbelief that Darien didn’t care one bit about first edition Jane Austen novels.

“Fine,” Darien consented, “You can take them; just put them in your bag until we’re done. I need your wits about you.”

Diana gently placed her new treasures into her bag and then took a seat on the couch to contemplate the situation.

She closed her eyes and pondered where she might leave a clue if she were Foxwell Flinders. He had been an English gentleman scholar—a self-taught man who had funded his own research and investigations. According to Darien, the man fell into obscurity for over a decade following the First World War, only to emerge later as a religious leader in Ohio.

The story of Flinders was bizarre, to say the least. No one knew anything about Flinders’ lost years—except for Charlotte, apparently.

Diana’s gaze went to
The Great Gatsby
again and the book ignited a curious notion. Each book was published before 1930—the same year that, according to her grandmother, Charlotte suddenly took ill and died.

Diana quickly stood up from the couch and headed for the door.

Darien seemed startled. “Where are you going?” he asked. “We haven’t finished our search in here.”

“I have,” she replied. “Stay here and keep looking. I’m going to look for a bedroom.” She didn’t stay long enough to hear Darien’s reply and assumed it was something positive.

Diana figured the master bedroom to be the last door down the hall—the only room that still had its door on its hinges. She went to open it, surprised to find it had been left locked.

Even so, the years of rot made it easy for Diana to push the door open with a little force.

She was right—it was a bedroom, and it wasn’t nearly as derelict as the rest of the house. Surprisingly, everything appeared to have been left tidy and in order. The bed was even made.

Knowing that the bedroom must have been the very picture of British elegance and charm at one time, Diana couldn’t help but feel at home within. It somehow reminded her of Miri’s room—a notion that prompted her to notice the large wooden vanity next to the walk-in closet. It still had a string of pearls draped across one side of the mirror.