Prophesy: The Immortal Witch (19)

Part 18 at: https://www.abctales.com/story/marandina/prophesy-immortal-witch-18

It had been a hectic few days since the advent of the grimoire. Nadeem casually tossed her tote bag by the straps onto the settee and sloped into the kitchen. She was tired. Notwithstanding, downtime still wasn’t appealing when research could be done instead even if she needed her bed.

It had been a long day, one extended by another evening at the library. Students had seemed restless, a sign that end of term was approaching. Inspiration was welcome but indifference more common. For the odd occasion that someone shone and asked pertinent questions, this was overshadowed by the majority who coasted through another lecture. Perhaps a thicker skin was needed. She would keep working on it.

A drink would settle things down; tea sufficient at this hour. Alcohol was for the weekend or socialising, as rare as that was. Cutting through the humming noise of the kettle, the ring tone of her mobile phone pulsed melodiously: the opening strains of Beyoncé’s Texas Hold ‘em.

Reaching for the handset she hesitated, frowning at the notion of taking a call this late. It was unlikely to be a scam; the number flashing on screen was another mobile. Not that it was definitive proof of not being a nuisance caller but she took a chance. Flicking the green accept bar to the right, the device was swept to a waiting ear, head cocked ready to speak.   

“Hello, Nadeem speaking.”

“Hi...is that Professor Potter? My name is Dan Jones from The Western Herald. I am calling about a story that we think is in the public interest. I understand that you have come into possession of an ancient book discovered at Brean Fort. We think our readers would be interested.”

After a brief pause:

“Care to comment?”

This was an unexpected development. Nadeem could only think that her colleague from the marketing department - Jonty Brown - had leaked the finding to the Press presumably to garner publicity. She had found herself chatting to him in the canteen only the other day. The saga of the archaic relic and the circumstances surrounding it had oozed out of her like an unwitting confession to a listening priest.

Jonty was enthusiastic for the most part and often guilty of going the extra mile without getting consent. As likeable as he was, the general consensus was that more restraint could be shown at times. Nadeem liked him; perhaps a latent attraction that led to being less than circumspect.

She was in a situation that had promoting her employer on one hand and the interests and confidentiality of the families she was assisting on the other. The needle on her moral compass wavered. The challenge: any kind of plausible denial could stir up even more interest from the media. There was nothing better than a conspiracy theory.

Her mind raced as she pondered the best way to deal with the conundrum. Instinct suggested hanging up but, from previous experience, she knew that reporters were dogmatic and would keep harassing until they got what they wanted.

“Can I ask who you have been speaking to?” The question sounded flustered, her voice momentarily high pitched and scratchy.

“I wouldn’t want to reveal my source. You understand, I’m sure.”

Nadeem felt confused and cornered. Surely if the account had come from someone in marketing then it would make sense to mention it. It looked like damage limitation was the best way forward.

“Yes…indeed. An item may have come into the possession of the university. Can I just clarify that any artefact would be subject to suitable academic scrutiny? At this point there would be very little to disclose until we’ve had a good chance to have a look -.”

Before she could finish, the inquisitive voice on the other end of the phone interrupted:

“Yes, yes, of course. I imagine you have had an opportunity to make some preliminary enquiries by now. The nature of the book itself would make for a newsworthy article. How old do you think it is? You must have an idea as to what it’s about even this early.”

The tone was tinny, quick-fire and assertive. The man sounded in his twenties; possibly a junior reporter.

“How about a brief interview tomorrow. I could come over and see you in the morning. I have an associate at Points West who may be interested as well.”

The journalist added:

“I understand the discovery was made by a boy and girl from the local area.”

The latter details had definitely not been revealed to Jonty Brown. What was going on? Things were moving far too quickly for Nadeem’s liking. The conversation had gone from a prospective written narrative in a local newspaper to a television expose in seconds.

Her breathing quickened as she pondered what to say.

“Look, I tell you what. I’ll give you a few details now to be going on with. Then perhaps we leave this in abeyance until more work is done. How does that sound?”

“That sounds great Professor Potter. I’m all ears.”

The next couple of minutes consisted of Nadeem trying to give an account that was as thin on detail as possible whilst the reporter was doing his best to extract as much background as he could muster. The call was brought to an abrupt end by the professor declaring that she had to go, unconcerned that Dan Jones had been cut off mid-sentence.

Without hesitation, she rang Tanya’s number to fill her in on the media development explaining that she had done her best to satiate interest without compromising everyone’s privacy. However, it was quickly apparent that she could have called the responsible adult involved first before giving details away.    

The call with Tanya King had been awkward. It was one thing dealing with unexpected esotericism, another with the idea of third parties becoming involved. Nadeem knew that she had to tread carefully; a balance to be had between her professional interest in the tome and protecting innocent parties from the ravages of media scrutiny.

If the fantastic tale took off then all manner of people could turn up, distortion and exaggeration possible via the viral aspect of social media. It wasn’t unknown for those with connections to the occult to turn up from their shadowy hiding places. That’s when things could get weird. The local newspaper would be just the start.

Having frantically scribbled notes down, Dan Jones knew he had a reasonably strong piece to include before the next deadline was due. He scratched his chin pondering what to do next. Local stories popped up all the time but this one felt different. Now and again there was the opportunity to monetise a feature. He scrolled down his list of phone contacts stopping when he got to K. Listed as Kevin Murphy, he duly dialled and a man’s voice answered.

“Hello…is that Kev? Dan at the Western Herald. Yep…I’m fine thanks. I think I may have something you might be interested in. Usual deal? Yes, yes….I think it’s good enough for the TV news. I promise. My source is solid gold. Yep…I know the clergy can be a bit flaky but not this one. Catch ups with my dear Aunt Sally are always well worth my time.”

Part 20 at: https://www.abctales.com/story/marandina/prophesy-immortal-witch-20

Image free to use @WikiCommons