Seeking Crystal by Joss Stirling
Sky cheered up at that news. ‘I can tell you now that even if he is still spitting insults he’ll want to cure you. He has “healer” running through his bones like words in a stick of rock.’
‘Wow, isn’t that something to look forward to.’
Phoenix tugged the list of arrangements from my fingers. ‘Let’s get down to business. What do you want us to do?’
‘Crystal, I apologize for having any doubts about your talent for organizing a fantastic hen night.’ Diamond leant on the balcony overlooking Contessa Nicoletta’s walled garden. Tall cypress trees stood to attention either side of the path, an honour guard from the private mooring where the last of the guests were arriving, their laughter reaching us as we waited to greet them. My sister looked truly lovely dressed in a silver evening gown topped by our bridal coronet. I had made myself a sky blue silk strapless dress so I felt pretty special too—if a bit cold.
Note to self: design something with sleeves next time you do a winter party.
‘It was easy once the contessa was involved. What is her Savant gift by the way? I know very little about her.’
Diamond played with her bracelet, the stones catching fire in the torches that flared from brackets either side of the main doors. The naked flame added an old world touch that perfectly suited our venue of crumbling stone mansion. All buildings in Venice are disintegrating—it goes with the maritime climate. Owners like our hostess have always had to fight a race against time to see what would win: repairs or collapse.
‘I know she’s a powerful telepath but I get the impression she doesn’t use her gifts very often now. She has a son, I think, also a Savant, and grandchildren. She claims she’s too old for dabbling in all that stuff and leaves it to the younger generations. She once told me she enjoys holding her position in Venetian society and doesn’t need her gifts to do that, just wise investments, which, with the way the world economy is going, is a full time occupation.’
I quite liked the sound of Contessa Nicoletta’s approach to life. Later I’d ask the contessa what I could do if I didn’t ‘dabble’ in Savant powers either. Her experience that you don’t have to use Savant gifts even if you have them could be really helpful to my singular circumstance.
‘Hey, Diamond, this is just … just incredible!’ called Anna, one of Diamond’s closest friends. She hastened up the flight of steps and hugged my sister tight. ‘Congratulations!’
‘Thanks but it’s all Crystal’s hard work,’ Diamond said generously.
Anna kissed me on the cheeks. ‘Wish I had a little sister like you. Mine is still in the bugging stage.’
I handed Anna her mask and hairpiece. ‘Here: this is for you.’
‘Oh that’s amazing! This is going to be just the best party ever.’ She hurried away to the foyer to fix her costume jewellery in place.
All the guests were equally thrilled by the unusual party favours. Signora Carriera stood back to let me take the praise but I could see her casting a pleased and professional eye over our handiwork. My boss was resplendent in a sweeping emerald green gown with matching jacket. She had already struck up a friendship with the groom’s mother, Karla, who looked wonderful, if a touch over-flounced, in a red flamenco dress recalling her Latin heritage. Sky wore a darker shade of blue than my dress and Phoenix burned in a sizzling orange that she carried off really well against her creamy complexion and dark hair.
I gave myself a pat on the back: after a difficult week, this at least looked as if it was going to be a success.
A gong rang in the foyer.
‘Dinner is served,’ intoned the butler.
Diamond sighed. ‘Oh, I just love him. Wish I had one of those to announce meals. He makes them sound so important.’
‘Ah, but this is going to be important. You haven’t met Chef Luigi.’
‘You mean Luigi of the not-too-raw-but-a-bit-spicy display?’
‘That’s the one.’ I smiled at the memory of the silly conversation of a few days ago. I wished I could recapture that easy relationship with Xav but it had all gone so wrong. ‘I wonder how the boys are getting on with exotic Lola?’
Diamond took my arm to go indoors. ‘Good luck to them. They won’t beat this.’
The evening passed off just as I hoped. The meal was superb. Whatever Contessa Nicoletta paid the man to run her kitchen, he was worth every penny. The band was also surprisingly good. I had imagined the contessa would hire a group that would play a rather staid semi-classical repertoire but she understood Diamond well and had engaged musicians who played arrangements of recent pop music and jazz. Hen parties are about celebrating the years of singlehood so the band judged it just right with their noughties hits which we could all sing along to and do girl-dancing, unfettered by having no boys around to watch our fooling about. I was enjoying myself so much; I had forgotten since moving to Venice and leaving old friends behind how much fun it was to do a girls’ night out.
It seemed no time at all before the motor launch was back at midnight to start ferrying guests over to Venice. We went in reverse of our arrival: Italian friends first, family last.
Signora Carriera gave me an affectionate embrace as she got on board the second transport. ‘You did very, very well, Crystal. You should be proud of yourself.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I will see you on Monday, if not before.’ She couldn’t resist reminding me of work, but just then I really didn’t mind. I had come to look forward to the creative excitement of her shop. Seeing the things we had made looking so fabulous on the girls was immensely rewarding.
Contessa Nicoletta invited the remaining family guests to her private sitting room while we waited for the return of the launch. Her butler served us drinks and we relaxed—but not too much—on her antique furniture. Worried I was going to do a Goldilocks on one of her flimsy chairs, I wandered to the grand piano to look at her collection of family photos. As Diamond had said, the contessa had a son. There were lots of pictures of him doing all sorts of different activities: yachting, skiing, in dinner jacket outside the opera. Quite the sportsman even though he must be in his fifties.
The contessa joined me at the piano, her veined hand gripping the top of an ebony walking stick.
‘Do you recognize him?’ she asked.
‘No, but I’m guessing he’s your son.’
‘Yes, Alfonso. He is the present count of Monte Baldo, of course.’
‘Does he live in Venice?’
She sniffed. ‘He used to.’
‘Oh? Where is he now?’ I wondered if she felt upset that her only child had left her alone in her old age.
‘He is in prison.’
O-K. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘It is not your fault, Crystal.’ Her hawk-bright eyes went to the others in the room as if looking for the guilty party among them. ‘He was unlucky.’
I was intrigued that she didn’t say he was innocent, but it would be the height of bad manners to return her generous hospitality with intrusive questions. There was always Google to check up on him later. A count of Monte Baldo arrested for criminal activities was hardly going to go unnoticed no matter where the incident took place. I thought it tactful, however, to change the subject.
‘Contessa Nicoletta, I have been meaning to ask you: how have you managed without using your gift?’
‘What do you mean?’ The old lady straightened the photo frame I had moved.
‘Well, my gift is really pathetic and I can’t do telepathy.’
‘Can you not?’ She studied my face for a moment. ‘That will be a problem.’
‘Yes, it already is. I get sick when I try. Diamond says you manage really well, retired as you are from using your Savant powers. I was wondering if you have any advice for me because it looks as though I’m going to be in the same boat, so to speak, but not by choice?’
I regretted immediately asking her. The contessa’s lips thinned and her eyes glinted with what looked very like contempt. I was suddenly thrown back a c
‘We share no boat, Crystal. Diamond is wrong. I use my gifts all the time—as you are about to find out. It is just that people do not remember that I have—that is the difference.’
I was finding her attitude a bit creepy. I decided to retreat to my sister’s side. ‘I’m sorry if I offended you, contessa. I see that that would explain it.’
Her claw-like hand gripped my forearm. ‘Don’t go. The best part of this charade is about to happen. You wouldn’t want to miss this party for the world.’
‘What’s going on?’ I looked up and noticed that the footmen and butler had appeared by the doors.
‘My son was arrested in London thanks to the Benedicts. A count of Monte Baldo in an Italian jail—it is not to be borne! Diamond has presented me with the perfect revenge.’
I did not hang around to hear any more.
‘Diamond!’ I shouted, pulling free from the old lady. ‘Get out of here!’
‘It is too late for that.’ The contessa signalled to a footman to restrain me.
‘Crystal, what’s the matter?’ Diamond started towards me but the butler got in her path and pushed her back into her chair, the casual violence of the movement a shock after the sophisticated evening.
The contessa pointed at Diamond, Sky, Phoenix, and Karla with her cane. ‘I know my price. Their soulfinders for my son’s freedom. We have four of them in the room. The Benedicts will do anything to get them back.’
‘The woman is mad!’ spluttered Karla. ‘Phoenix, Sky, do something!’ She closed her eyes to send out the distress call telepathically to her husband.
‘Too late!’ declared Contessa Nicoletta. ‘Far, far too late.’ She pressed her hands to her temples and I felt the pulse of power ripple from her, sweeping through the room. I went to my knees: it was a form of telepathic assault, pressing on our minds like a tidal wave. I retched. The contessa grabbed the knot of hair piled on top of my head and pulled me to face her. ‘When I was younger, child, I renamed myself the eraser. You won’t remember why.’
Darkness.
I woke up when a wave slapped my face. Taking an unwise gulp, I rolled to my knees, spitting out seawater, grit, and shell fragments.
Jeez, I was cold.
I rubbed my bare arms, hugging myself to stimulate blood flow.
Where was I? More to the point, how did I get here?
Opening stinging eyes, I saw a muddy beach stretching ahead and behind, low dunes of rusty sea grass, an empty iron-grey sea. My only companions were seabirds. A large gull pecked at an empty crab shell a few feet away, uninterested in the arrival of a blue evening-gowned stranger on his patch.
Racked with shivers, I staggered out of the shallow water and up the beach to the relative shelter of the dunes. I smelt really strange—fishy and, I promise you, that was not the perfume I’d put on last night.
Diamond’s party. Bits and pieces were coming back to me. Come on, brain, get in gear! I’d heard that hen and stag parties can get wild, with far too much being drunk, and the groom left tied naked to a pillar in Piazza San Marco or on a one-way trip to Rome, but this made no sense. I could not remember drinking—I’d been too busy checking the arrangements. Diamond was hardly the type of sister to trick me by spiking my drinks and then abandoning me on a beach.
I searched my surroundings for clues. I knew I had started the night in Venice and this did look like the Adriatic in front of me. Perhaps I hadn’t gone too far? Maybe I was on one of the barrier islands, washed up on a deserted stretch of the Lido for example?
But lots of people lived on the Lido. It even had roads, cars, and a bus service. I couldn’t see any buildings, let alone a bus stop.
OK, now I was scared. This did not feel like a hen party jest gone wrong. This felt like being shipwrecked. Had the launch sunk on the way back from the contessa’s island? Was I the only survivor?
When I was younger, child, I renamed myself the eraser. You won’t remember why.
Oh my God, I did remember! The contessa had turned into some psycho bitch out for revenge over her boy. The tiny woman packed the largest telepathic punch I had ever met. We’d all gone down for the count—an unfortunate pun as it was all about her criminal son, the Count of Monte Baldo.
But she had not erased my memory—only stunned it—probably because I had always maintained out of habit super-strong shields against telepathy. I knew exactly who I was, why I was here, but not how I had got on the beach or where it was. Two out of four—not too bad. At least now I knew what I had to do: get home; raise the alarm; not freeze to death.
I decided moving was good—it was either that or turn into an iceberg. I clambered up the dune, my silk dress catching at the hem where it caught on a scrap of twisted iron jetsam. It was hard not to be distracted by just how perishingly cold I felt.
From the vantage point on top of the dune, I saw that my island was tiny—a little haven for wild fowl and not much else. The long low mudflats of the lagoon stretched on the other side facing towards the mainland. On the side I was on, there was nothing but sea and the distant shape of a tanker chugging to the oil refinery west of my position. I could just make out the smudge of Venice lying low at the other end of the lagoon. For some reason, I’d been dumped well to the north-east in the wilderness of salt marshes, a place to which only huntsmen and fishermen ever came. They would be along eventually, but I couldn’t wait for a day-tripper to come and rescue me. Time for the others might already be running out.
Why had I been dumped at all? It made no sense. The first thing I would do is make my way back and raise the alarm.
It struck me then that that must be what the countess was counting on me doing. This was a hostage situation. I was like the ransom letter. I’d been left far enough from home so that it would take me hours to get back, giving her time to spirit her captives away from the area. I was of no importance as a hostage as I was not one of the soulfinders; I had been expendable. She probably wasn’t too bothered if I got back before hypothermia set in. And I had even told her that I couldn’t do telepathy and raise the alarm; she’d exploited my confidence ruthlessly.
Fury filled me, the rush of blood bringing a welcome warmth to my fingers and toes. I was not going to fall passively into step with her plans. She had wanted time and I was not giving it to her. I was going to alert the Benedicts even if it meant spewing my guts out on the beach.
I dipped into my mind. I didn’t really know how to do telepathy, let alone over distance, having always avoided it. I did know how to get a fix on a direction though, which should help.
Find home, I told my brain.
But my brain was different from the last time I had tried this. All my junk—thoughts, belongings, random stuff—was no longer whirling about in a cloud but streaming like an arrow in one narrow direction. Somehow the attack had burst through the barriers in my mind and completely reorganized it. Experiencing no sickness, I found following the arrows easy, like skiing down a well-marked run. I just didn’t know what was at the end of it.
Hello?
What the—? Whoa, is that you, cupcake?
Xav! Oh my God, Xav!
What are you doing talking to me telepathically: you’ll make yourself sick! He then let out a string of swear words that were not edited by the link. You’re my soulfinder, aren’t you? No question. Yes, I know you are. I could feel the burst of jubilation, dancing on the spot happiness, at the other end of the conversation. Well then, cupcake: get yourself back here, ’cause you and I have some serious kissin’, huggin’, ’n’ plannin’ to do.
I couldn’t share his joy right then—I had to shelve that bundle of feelings for the moment and examine them later. Xav—my soulfinder. Brain just did not compute. Too cold—too shocked.
Please shut up, Xav. Just listen. I’m trying to tell you something.
He laughed. A telepathic laugh is lovely: like a gentle tingl
No, I’m serious. This is an emergency.
I felt his change in mood abruptly. Gone was the teasing boy; on the line was someone I could rely on one hundred per cent. What’s happened? Is everyone OK? Do you need me? The guys and I did wonder why you weren’t back.
Oh, it’s so much to explain, but the short version is Contessa Nicoletta is the mother of someone you arrested in London.
Mr Rome? I don’t know the names of all the guys we caught in our net, but there was an Italian.
At the end of the evening, she turned into this mad harpy bent on revenge. She’s taken the others—Diamond, your mum, Sky, Phoenix—and is holding them hostage.
What!?
She wants to bargain for his freedom.
But you’re not with them so where are you? Are you safe?
I’m OK but I’m not sure exactly where I am. Best guess is I’m on an island near Torcello—the wild part of the lagoon.
A little motor launch appeared, heading my way. Its wake cut a white bracket in the muddy waters. Hang on: I can see a fishing boat nearing the shore. I’ll see if I can attract their attention.
If you can’t, I’ll get a speedboat to you but if you can get them to take you that’ll be fastest. I’ll tell the others. Victor and Trace will know what to do. Get yourself back here ASAP.
Yes, sir.
Crystal, you and me: this is good news, really good news.
Even though we fight all the time?
Especially because we fight all the time.
The fisherman was as surprised as I had been to find me stranded on the island. He gallantly stripped off his waterproof jacket and bundled me up in it.
‘How did you get here?’ he asked. A banker from Milan, he had not bargained for this little side trip on his fishing holiday. He pulled his knitted cap down over my cold ears.