The Landowner's Secret

The Landowner’s Secret

Copywrite 2017 Sandra Maggs

Published by Sandra Maggs

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Prologue

There are people in this world who think I’m crazy, but I’m not. I have so much to tell you, it’s difficult to know where to start. The beginning is ultimately the best, but without this story, the beginning wouldn’t make as much sense. I’ll take you back there eventually, but first you need to know more about what I do and why.

It’s going to sound kind of weird, but there was an incident in my life which changed my path and now I follow one that’s just a little offside. Keep an open mind. There’s nothing spectacular about me, I’m just an ordinary person but I have my own unique agenda.

Years of research and survival instinct helped build my business to what it is today, lucrative. My intuition tells me you will most likely laugh when I reveal how I earn a living, but go ahead, laugh your head off. There was a time when I would have joined you and thought someone like me to be stark raving mad. Whether you believe my story or not, I’m not alone, there are others in this world who do the same as I do. The difference is, they join in the madness. I on the other hand aim to rid the earth of the supernatural abominations who are responsible for pain and death. I’m talking about vampires.

I’m not a psychic, but it’s easy to guess what you’re thinking. People like me are crackpots, right? I once thought the same, but after you read this story, you’ll realise there is an explanation for everything. There are things on this earth that don’t always make sense; what makes them believable is delving into the depths and finding the evidence.

So, dear reader, the final thing before we get to the story is, after you read this book, you may change the way you think about the undead. But don’t be fooled by their charisma, and remember they are killers. Start looking about you and question whether or not the pale young man leaning against a pole in a carriage on the northern line of the London Tube is a vampire. Or wonder if the woman who serves up the school dinners has just sucked the life out of the physical education instructor and dumped his body behind the bike shed.

Believe me, they are out there. In fact, you might be in the same room as one right now. So be cautious dear reader and if you need me, let me know. Until I hear from you, read on, and make your own decision. Perhaps the information you receive from me may one day save your life.

Regards

Lucinda Gryffon

Part 1

Aiden

Aiden Winchester couldn’t accurately remember the dark miserable event which changed his life completely. The day that took his family from him was slightly fuzzy, but even so, the past still lurked in his memory. Aiden winced whenever he thought of what life had become for him. Now after the years had lengthened the void between him and the unfortunate incident, the whole affair had made his past, present, and future, somewhat depressing. He still had important memories of his mother tucking him in as a young boy, and his father giving him advice about, well, almost everything, but there were moments in his life that had definitely become hazy. He could hear the voice of his father as it floated to the surface of mind.

"Do you know what that is Aiden? That’s the smell of knowledge and knowledge is power."

Guidance from his father echoed in his head over and over. Influence from the past. The voice of the most important man in his life, now long gone. The words crept from the depths of his memory and he smiled as he recalled them. That’s the smell of knowledge, the smell of knowledge... The sentence bounced around in his mind, the resonance of his father’s voice and perhaps the most imperative gift ever given to him.

Aiden hadn’t been much of a reader before his father gave him the advice. There had always been more important things to do than sit around reading books. But since the very first moment the words were spoken, he had, to some extent, become liberated by the humble novel. The feel of the paper, the beautiful print and the concept of stringing letters, words, and sentences together to form paragraphs, pages, and chapters. The chapters became stories and then eventually, a finished book. A book that could make you fall in love, or make you laugh or cry, or perhaps even save your life if you knew how to use the knowledge gained. It delivered a sense of freedom in every respect, taking the reader to different places and presenting situations that might never be experienced otherwise. This advice had transformed Aiden into the educated man he had grown to be. He was sure his father would be proud of him.

The smell of knowledge. He heard the words continuously while searching the wooden bookcase in front of him. Neglected shelves filled with odd bits of dusty chipped crockery and tattered second-hand books faced him. Finally, Aiden’s eyes rested on an old, well-worn paperback. He plucked the novel from its resting place and flipped through the pages taking in the odour of the paper and years of human abuse. The smell of knowledge that had been shared by many. Aiden examined the cover of the used book. It was shabby and dog-eared, as if it had been carted around for decades and then discarded, finally ending up in the charity store for him to discover. He looked back at the shelf to see if there was another that might interest him. Deciding on the one already chosen, fishing around in his pockets Aiden found some loose change. Mentally he added the amount and checked the price of the book. Smiling to himself he headed towards the counter dodging the circular racks of vintage clothing and boxes of discarded shoes with their bright, neon coloured, bargain priced tickets adorned with black permanent marker.

Behind a glass display counter containing pieces of paste and costume jewellery, exhibited in an amateurish haphazard way, an overweight elderly woman sat nodding off. The lines on her face were deep as if carved with a chisel by Father Time himself. Aiden could see she had once dyed her brassy hair which was pulled back from her face and secured with a

black ribbed headband. The roots were grey and neglected. She was like the paperback, worn, as if she had lived a thousand lives in one, handed from one person to another and then cast away into the dusty surroundings of the drab second-hand store. Aiden dropped the coins which clattered onto the glass top cabinet bringing the woman to her senses with a jump.

Keep the change love, he said winking at her, and held up the book for her to see the orange sticker with the price written boldly in black.

She leaned forward and squinted at it through her glasses, indicating to anyone who took any notice they were not as useful as they once had been, just like their owner.

Thank you dear, the woman replied, looking at the amount on the counter and scooping it up to lock it away in an empty container. Quickly she slipped the gun-metal grey cash box out of sight, looked around anxiously and then scribbled the amount of the sale and the item in a notebook, squinting at the page through her glasses to ensure her entry was correct.

He turned his back on her and abandoned the grimy stale-smelling shop. Instantly the woman slipped from his mind, she had served her purpose and was left to nod off in between visits from random bargain hunters and the like.

Aiden strolled along the street with the ragged paperback in his hand whistling a tune he had heard earlier that day. A familiar tune which refused to vacate his head. A song his father had sung regularly to his sister with a melody that lived within tormenting him and although he tried to evict it, the stubborn tune clung to the carousel of his mind with its thorny tentacles as each thought he produced rode the same roundabout. It mocked him with a rhythm he was more than accustomed to and at times drove him to despair. He despised it, yet it brought a familiar comfort and Aiden whistled the tune as he walked towards home.

Winter had finally ended and spring was fresh in the air. The time of year when new life arrived, and the dark skeletal branches of the trees blossomed and were awash with tiny green sprouts ready to grow and soak up the sun and rain. The time of year for parties and picnics and enjoying life after hiding away throughout the long winter months. The sun rested its rays on the top of Aiden’s head and spread through his body gradually warming him. His hand started to sweat slightly around the paperback, and he switched the book to the other hand and wiped his damp palm on the back of his jeans.

Checking for traffic, Aiden crossed the deserted road. He always checked for traffic, a habit that had been drummed into him as a child which had lingered and followed him into his adult life. Vehicles were scarce around here though, there was rarely a motorist in sight. People seldom travelled this way and if they did, they were usually just tourists passing through on their way to a brighter more favourable destination, or just lost and looking for direction.

The village, once a thriving community, was like the paperback Aiden had just purchased. Forgotten and left to gather dust in hope that it would be discovered and brought back to life. Surrounded by hills decorated with clumps of dark green trees, the heart of the gully housed the few remaining locals. Slowly farmers and villagers alike had moved away to

somewhere more pleasing with a livelier aspect. The fields that had once been dotted with cattle and sheep had been left to their own devices and the grass grew green and lush. Acres and acres of farmland left unattended in the hopes that one day it might be resuscitated.

Climbing a gate secured with a rusted padlock and a thick flaking chain, Aiden made his way across the field towards his family home, Winchester Manor. This had been the way to and from the village for as long as he could remember. The old metal gate had been a part of the property longer than Aiden and was the quickest way to the shops. He rarely walked around the long way or drove his car, it was tradition. A pathway had been trudged into the neglected grass which was infested with long drooping weeds and in desperate need of a tidy up.

The fresh scent of early evening filled the air as the day began to finish. From the side of the field bordered by a hedgerow of hawthorn and prickly holly, a rabbit appeared stopping to sniff the air enjoying the same fragrance of the new season that Aiden himself enjoyed. Pausing, he watched the creature freeloading on his property, as it nibbled at the long lethargic blades of the intruding weeds, intrigued by the way the tiny beast cleaned its face with its paws. There was once a time when he would have fired some sort of hunting rifle at the small animal, but those days were long gone. Eventually the rabbit disappeared into the thick growth that grew along the boundary of the estate, and most likely continued to enjoy freedom. God knows how many more there were in there living rent free on his land. Aiden continued along the worn pathway towards the house wondering how on earth he had lapsed in his duties and allowed the grounds to become overrun with weeds and pests.

The property belonged to his family. It had been passed from generation to generation just as the paperback in his hand had been passed along. Acres of land with fields and woods, it ran through the gully of the enormous cliffs that surrounded the village. A large stone manor house had been built right in the centre of the cleared grounds. Monstrous, intimidating and threatening, it almost dared anyone who approached to enter at their own risk. Nobody knew what was hidden within the silence of the looming Georgian building, nobody except for Aiden Winchester. He had lived there all his life and unlike the frolicking rabbit, he felt he was a prisoner of the large vacant property. The neglected, dated décor with yellowing wallpaper and furniture covered with white dust sheets, and of course, the loneliness of Winchester Manor, which conquered his mind chasing away any cheerful thought he might be desperately trying to hold on to as he drew closer. Gripping the paperback tightly, he turned his latch key in the lock and opened the front door to the ominous structure as quietly as he could. It creaked. Aiden went inside and closed the door behind him. Silence reached out and embraced him with cold unrelenting arms.

Aiden’s nostrils filled with the smell of boiled cabbage and fried fish. He wrinkled his nose slightly. The evening meal was almost ready. It was an unappetising odour and he wasn’t

looking forward to eating. One of these days he would learn how to cook for himself. There had to be a few recipe books somewhere in the old place he could use to invent something a little more pleasing to his palate than cabbage and fish.

A long hallway bathed in soft light stretched before him. Aiden headed along it and unlocked a door which led to the library. This was where he kept his coveted novels. He slipped his latest treasure into a gap on a shelf. Standing back, he took stock and admired years of self-indulgent work. The shelf was almost full. Soon he would start again, filling a new shelf until there was no space left. The library was his favourite room. Dark brown wood panelling covered the walls, traditional of the era of the manor. A rolling library ladder allowed Aiden to reach his resources on the higher shelves. Electronic books didn’t interest him at all. He had spent hours and hours arranging the hard copies and tatty paperbacks according to genre. He cherished the collection. The shelf in front of him which held his newest gem, was one of many that hosted the paperback books which were the most educational for this stage of his life. It was filled with the knowledge his mind desired. His appetite for the topic was ravenous and he satisfied it with the novels he found in the village second-hand store.

Pulling apart the curtains, the large window at the end of the room framed the fading daylight as the moon rose in the darkening sky anticipating the beginning of another night. Aiden stared out into the greying evening, there was nothing out of the ordinary to see, just

another ending to another day. He pulled the curtains closed again to shield his collection from any of the creatures that might be lurking outside in the shadows. It was his compilation and he had no intentions of sharing it.

In the silence of the library, the old grandfather clock ticked loudly keeping time as well as it had the day his family bought it, seconds, then minutes. He stood alone listening and just looking around the room at his handy work in reverence. Another part of his life ticked away, slipping by almost unnoticed. Aiden wondered about the years he had spent alone in the manor collecting books. Was this his destiny? Would the rest of his life be consumed with his lonely quest for knowledge? They were questions that couldn’t be answered, but all the same, questions he asked himself from time to time.

Something disturbed Aiden’s thoughts. From outside the room he could hear the faint noises coming from the kitchen down the long hallway towards the rear of the expansive building. Hopeful, he imagined a young attractive woman baking biscuits to keep in an airtight tin for him to enjoy with a cup of tea in the afternoon. Or an array of delicious dishes for a party of friends who chatted in the parlour sipping wine. That was never the case though, his imagination was deflated with the realisation the noises were the preparation of a dinner for one and it was miserable at that.

Taking one more look around his private paradise, Aiden left the library, locking the door behind him to secure his precious books. Slipping the key into his pocket, he made his way

along the now dark hallway passing the doors to the unused lifeless rooms toward the pungent cabbage smell. Frightened slightly by the room he approached, he pulled himself together and remembered who he was. As Aiden neared the kitchen, he coughed loudly and stopped outside the closed door. From inside the room, the faint sound of light footsteps reached his ears as the owner of the culinary preparation rushed to organize the place setting and vacate the kitchen. The servant’s door clicking closed at the far side of the room was the signal for Aiden to enter. Opening the kitchen door, he stepped inside and the depressing sight of the rectangular wooden table neatly set for one met his eyes. A solitary plate of fish and greens sat alone with a single glass of what smelled like riesling. The fragrance of the freshly poured wine wafted into the air and mingled with the scent of the food making it slightly more appetising. He sat down at the table and sprinkled salt and pepper over his meal. Aiden raised the glass to toast solitude, the meal, and the emptiness of the manor.

That’s how life was for Aiden Winchester, he was always alone. In the deserted room at the friendless table he sat eating his meal in seclusion. The fish which had been lightly fried in butter was delicious, but cabbage wasn’t his favourite vegetable. There were a few beans on the plate but mixing the two couldn’t mask the flavour of the cruciferous green. He added more salt and pepper in an attempt to disguise the taste and ate it. He ate it because he was hungry and because his parents had always reminded him there were children in this world starving, and the old behaviours had sadly survived longer than those who instilled them. Aiden washed it down with the glass of wine thankful to rid his taste buds of the presence of cabbage.

From somewhere in the manor, music sounded, the sound of a lone piano. Softly, the melody drifted faintly into the room and surrounded him, the same tune that played over and over in his head. Unrelenting and irritating he heard it repetitively.

Leaving the place setting as he had found it but without a scrap on the plate, Aiden headed upstairs to spend another night by himself. Locking the door to his bedroom he flicked a switch to the on position and filled the room with light. The four-poster bed that he occupied during the darkest hours, had seen better days. The frame still strong and sturdy, supported curtains that had passed their use by date a long time ago. Dust had taken its toll on the fabric, once thick and luxurious, it now crumbled on touch. Aiden didn’t care. It wasn’t as if there was likely to be anybody to impress anytime soon, no Lady Winchester on the horizon, not even a lesser conquest. He was the sole inhabitant of his bed and had been for as long as he had occupied the room. There had been the odd occasion when he had come close to inviting someone to stay, but it had never quite come to fruition and Aiden remained a single man. He undressed, dumped his clothes outside the room in a basket on the landing and locked the door once more.

Climbing into bed and settling under the warm covers, Aiden lay listening to the faint piano music. The Mountains of Mourne, a song his father had sung on many occasions. Sleep soon arrived and brought with it a dream of days gone by. He saw his parents, his

sister, and those who had ruined his life. A dream he dreamt regularly. A dream which often turned into a feverish nightmare.

********

Sunlight partnered the early hours of the morning and crept into the room through cracks and chinks, like a thief robbing Aiden of a little more desired sleep. The windows of all the rooms in the manor were furnished with thick dusty drapes that remained closed at all times. But the material was old and with age came deterioration. In places, the light intruded through the weave and cast thin streams upon the forgotten décor.

As Aiden opened his eyes in the dim glow of the early hours, he remembered the dream. The Winchester family were there still in his mind as clearly as the day they were taken from him. His father, his mother, and his sister Mary, she was there beside him, bathed in sunlight like some sort of celestial princess. Smiling to himself he thought about her as he savoured the sleepy moment. She had been beautiful, the image of his mother, his father used to say. Aiden missed all three of them, the sound of his father whistling, the laughter of his mother and the constant visitors calling on the ever-popular Mary Winchester. He wished he could turn back time and return to that moment.

A distant noise chased away the memory and Aiden lay still listening, straining to hear. A faint rattle of pans downstairs in the kitchen met his ears and he relaxed snapping on the bedside lamp. Soon after, the powerful smell of smoky bacon cooking, wafted up to him

through the different levels of the house and the solidness of his locked bedroom door. Sitting up and wiping the sleep from his eyes with his fingertips, he waited patiently, waited until he