Aurora - Blood Moon Epilogue

This is a work of fiction. All characters depicted are over the age of 18.

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A reception committee had gathered to watch the Global taxi in. Roger Bragg, Tanya and Vicky, peering through the fence like fans eager for a glimpse of their favourite rock stars. And there to see the new arrivals safely into the country, Eric Worthington, Immigration official who, in return for his wife's salvation, was pulling every bureaucratic lever at his disposal. The fact that Lord Gideon Woodrow-Munt, billionaire geneticist and source of the miraculous reprieve, was now masquerading as a mild-mannered writer, raised not so much as an eyebrow. A man of his power and wealth could be whomever he chose.

The reunion was tumultuous, boundless joy underscored by the anguish of losing Sook. While a minivan whisked the fugitives away to a temporary safe haven, the stolen jet was quietly entombed in a government hangar. Its owner, now languishing in an Ab Aldafran jail on charges of obscenity, would no longer be needing it.

Bragg came equipped with 3 spare passports, 1 each for Watson, Ally and Beck. Thip, the Thai, and the Cambodian Sophany had new passports within the week and were soon on their way, repatriated to their long-lost homes with a 1-kilogram gold bar each.

Through Roger Bragg's machinations aided by Worthington's connections, Cassandra and Suong were granted British passports, with enough background padding to satisfy the British Home Office. Neither girl was in a hurry to go home, where ruthless agents and cutthroat backers were waiting. With Cassandra's command of English, Spanish and Portuguese, and Suong's fluency in English, French and Vietnamese, Bragg, at Tanya's urging, found them jobs in the company. As interpreters at large and ad-hoc cabin-crew.

And Yan? Bragg, who figured himself a shrewd judge of character, realised straight away the Chinese hooker was a woman of daunting intelligence. What did she want to do? Return to China with a kilo of gold? Bragg always kept a few spare ingots rattling around in the bottom of his battered old backpack. Or, he suggested, she could throw her lot in with them, travel to Australia on a fake British passport and try her luck there. Given his ongoing campaign against triads, he could use a Chinese translator, so she could hang round for a while and sign on as a citizen. It was all up to her. Could she have her own koala, Yan asked? No, Bragg told her, but he might be able to fix her up with an orphaned kangaroo, and a nice cushy job, flying around the world with Ally and Beck. Yan weighed the pros and cons for a good split second then gave Bragg the nod. When they went back home, she would go with them.

Meanwhile Aisha the kidnapped Ab Aldafran, fluctuated between glee and despair. Glee, at having escaped a family, country and culture where the mere mention of her dreams was enough to earn her a beating. Despair at having left behind all she ever knew, and now finding herself a fish out of water, an alien, a foreigner, a stranger in a strange land.

Tanya, in her inimitable style, took the girl under her wing. With Vicky along for moral support she took Aisha down to the high street, and the fashion boutiques, for a little taste of Western decadence. Here and there on the way they crossed paths with women of Aisha's own culture, clad in black from head to toe, glaring daggers through the letterbox slits of their heavy black headcovers. When Aisha cringed, Tanya took her hand. "Head up, Aisha, shoulders back. You're ours now, they can't touch you." Aisha knew from that moment where she rightly belonged.

After swapping Aisha's borrowed clothes for a gorgeous, red floral dress, a violet cashmere cardigan and stylish white sneakers, with matching black bra and panties underneath, they took her to lunch. One glass of French Champagne with her lobster mornay and she was a goner. Ally, behind the scenes, was badgering Bragg to taker her on as a trainee pilot. Same deal as Beck. She, Ally, would teach the fledgling all the theory. Once she'd passed and completed her basic training, Aisha would be upskilled to the right seat of the company jet. When they got one. At the same time, Kevin, back in Australia, through a little hint of cybercrime, inserted false memories into the Immigration database, sufficient to enable the issue of an Australian passport. Aisha, it turned out, was actually Ally's half-sister, fathered by Ally's dad. A superhuman effort, since the dear old boy had never ventured further than New Zealand.

That left one, single, unwilling, fly in the ointment. Bad-tempered, intractable, deeply depressed, treading water like a castaway in a sea of survivor's guilt. Penelope Bowman. The celebrations, as heartfelt and lively as they were, elicited barely a smile from the damaged young English woman. Sentenced to life in prison, she now found herself back on home soil, precipitously, dizzyingly, unbelievably free. At the same time deeply scarred, not just her body but her soul into the bargain, unable to come to grips with her stunning salvation.

Not only disoriented, but unable to fathom the company she found herself in. A bunch of freaks like something out of a movie- Miss Peregrine's Home For Peculiar Children. Like that creepy old man, Mister Watson. And his shadow, the skinny little blonde in the dazzling golden cape. Turned out a surname wasn't the only thing they shared. A girl in her twenties- if that- and a man old enough to be her grandfather, in the same bedroom.

And what about that too-fucking-handsome-to-be-true, multi-multi-millionaire lawyer? Ally's boss, Roger, and his red hot trophy wife, Tanya. And Vicky, their... their... their familiar, with a mouth that could suck-start a Boeing 747. An Australian Liv Tyler without the fame or charisma. AND those 2 vapid models, barely in their teens? She didn't need to be a radiologist to see through their innocent facade- a pair of top-shelf hookers if ever there were.

While everybody else set their sights on the future, Penny remained adrift, strung-out and dejected, unable to tell up from down. Though her long-suffering family lived barely a few short hours away, she could not bring herself to so much as ring, convinced, instead, it would only add to their distress. When they saw her ruined body. When she came clean and told them their child was a murderer. And, of course, there was the matter of her fiancé. The young man she'd been in such a hurry to call that day she pulled into that lay-by on the 12-lane desert highway, ten minutes in front of the rest of the convoy. The last thing she'd heard before the universe exploded was her lover's voice. 'Pen? Is that you?'

Ally tried to reason with her. Then Tanya. Vicky even had a go, telling Penny, 'I know where you're coming from, but you're home now, you have to let it go.'

Let it go? Like that was even possible.

The time had come to try some unconventional therapy. Double-blind as the boffins would say, but tried and tested nonetheless. While their secret weapon remained blissfully naive, the coven convened- Tanya, Beck, Ally and Vicky- to conjure up a little grey magic.

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"We're going where?" the old man frowned.

"To Roger's brother's." Tanya replied. "West coast, out in the country."

"What for?"

"A holiday, silly. Look. I'm bored shitless just sitting round here and the girls are starting to squabble. And Aisha, poor dear, she's busting a gut to have a look around. Let's face it, we could all use a little change of scenery. God knows we need something to get rid of this cabin fever."

"Cabin fever? In a five-star hotel?"

"I know, right? You think they would have put us in seven-star instead, with gilded dunny paper and hot and cold running servants. You know, this morning, I even had to change my own toilet roll."

The door opened up and Beck waltzed in, towelling her hair dry. "Have you told him yet?"

"Told me what?" Watson frowned, sensing a trap.

Tanya flicked Beck a warning glance. "About the holiday." she said. "It's okay, Darling, I was just telling him."

Watson narrowed his eyes. "Why do I get the feeling you guys are up to something?"

"You're just being paranoid." Tanya replied. "After everything you've been through I guess it's no surprise. Don't worry, Handsome, you'll get over it."

Beck sat down beside him. She was wearing her trusty gold silk slip- she called it her wedding dress- with not a stitch underneath, and taking her old man's hand she nestled it in her lap. "A holiday in the country." she chirped. "I bet you can't wait."

"I can't wait?"

"And neither can we." Tanya hastened. "You should see it. A sweet little farmhouse, right on the coast. It's even got its own walking path down to the cliffs."

"Who's going?" Watson asked.

Caught flat-footed, Tanya looked around. "Everyone of course. Unless there's anyone you want to leave behind."

Apart from Misery-guts, he thought, the English girl, Penny. Moping over meals, always hiding in her room "All of us? In a sweet little farmhouse. Where will we fit?"

"It's Roger's brother we're talking about, Pet. I'm sure there's gonna be plenty of room."

"I thought they didn't get on." Watson said shrewdly. "Roger and his brother."

Tanya waved the veiled accusation away. "They're still family, Damo. Besides, big bro's in New York. Planting hedges or something. He won't even know."

Another door opened and Watson looked up. Ally strolled in with the grey-eyed Cassandra in tow, dressed in sweaty active gear, all hot and bothered from the gym. One look at Cassandra's two finger thigh-gap, and Ally's pert little tits, and the old man felt a tingle in his groin.

"Have you told him yet?" Ally asked, sitting on the sofa and pulling her feet up. Settling beside her, Cassandra snuggled into the fiery little woman she'd come to regard as an older sister with benefits.

"This again?" Tanya huffed. "Guys, will you leave this to me? Damon. On account of your recent experience. Boldly going where no idiot has gone before, into the valley of death blah blah blah... We were sort of hoping you'd go on ahead. Take the Range Rover. Do a recce. Get the place all ship shape and battened down before we arrive. Kill the rats. Repel the boarders. Light the fires and turn on the hot water."

"By myself?"

"Of course not by yourself, Silly. Beck, Darling?"

Beck screwed her face up, feigning thought. "Mmm... yeahh... nahh... Sorry, not right now. I have to get my nails done."

"Hang on." Watson glared. "Is it a holiday or a fashion parade?"

Beck spread her fingers to study her nails. "I've got standards, you know, now I'm a queen. What if my subjects were to see me like this?"

"Both of them?"

Beck gave him the finger. "It's Royal protocol, Dommy. I'm not allowed to go out looking povvo."

"Ally, Darling?" Tanya sighed. "Would you mind baby-sitting diddums?"

"Can't." Ally said with a shake of her head. "I'm getting my hair done."

"Cassie?"

Cassandra pointed from herself to Ally. "Group booking. I'm going too."

"Where's Suong, then?" Watson asked, looking around. "Maybe she-"

"She's off to Paris with Macca and Rodge. To do the interpreting."

"So we're NOT all going?" Watson said. "Is that what you're saying? Cos' a minute ago you said it was all of us."

"Look. Work first, play later. Remember the four laws of life?"

"Well, since I was the one who told you in the first place."

"Exactly. Rule one, delayed gratification."

"And dedication to the truth." Watson said darkly. "Don't forget that one."

Tanya rubbed her jaw, ignoring the jibe. "Hang on... Maybe Yan would like to go for a ride."

"Yan?" Watson said, raising his hands. "No. Thanks."

"What's the matter with Yannie?" Ally bridled.

"She scares me."

"Yan? She'd never hurt a fly."

"No." Watson glared, "She wouldn't hurt it. She'd take it apart to see how it works, then put it back together and patent the design. What's her IQ? Two hundred? Three? That bloody woman would eat me for breakfast."

Beck gave a snort of derision. "You make that sound like a bad thing."

"I don't mean in the nice way, Moosh. She'd try and do that mind-meld thing. Like plugging a supercomputer into a snail. My eyes would light up as I gazed into infinity, then, 'poof!'... a little puff of smoke and you would have your inheritance."

Beck shot upright. "All of it?"

Watson nodded gravely. "The whole tree-fiddy."

"Oh you're such a drama-queen." Ally said with a roll of her eyes. "Knowing Yannie as I do, she'd keep you alive for your sperm."

"Awesome." Watson said, "After popping my brain like a bubble. Tell you what guys, why don't I just go on my own?" Falling silent, he thought for a moment. "Unless you want to come?" he said, looking at Tanya.

Cheeks pinking, Tanya fell back, giggling.

"Come on, Tan," he urged, "how about it? Just you and me? We could blow this popsicle stand."

"'Blow'." Ally said, rolling her eyes. "Is that all you guys ever think about?"

"That and 'suck'," Tanya said, "uh huh. But really, Darling, I can't. Someone has to stay behind and herd these cats."

Still firmly convinced, if it walked like a duck and quacked like a duck, Watson opened his mouth about to press the point.

"Did you order some weed?" Beck asked before he could speak.

"Of course, Darling." Tanya replied. "They're delivering it with the Veuve."

"Weed?" Watson blinked.

"And Veuve. Though if you don't wanna go, I guess we can ask for a refund."

Watson raised his hand. "Hang on, hang on, I never said I didn't. Where did you say it was?"

Tanya arched her eyebrows. "Oh, so now you wanna go?"

"Thats not what I said. I just asked where is it?"

Tanya hooked her hair behind an ear, a tell the old man knew so well, hinting at subterfuge. "Over west." she said. "Cornwall or somewhere, on the coast. It's meant to be quite isolated."

"And there's weed and Champagne when I get there?" Watson asked.

"In abundance." Tanya confirmed.

"And once I get there, the rest of you will be along to join me?"

Tanya nodded. "Once our errands are done."

"You know," Watson said, "there's an old Chinese saying. If it seems to good to be true-"

"Then you're thinking what you don't want, or so a wise man once told me. Really, Darling, it's just a little recce. Totally legit."

Watson stood with a sigh. A bunch of neurotransmitters had just clicked into place, one labeled 'weed', the other one 'Veuve', with 'coast' and 'isolated completing the circuit. "Rebakah," he said, "I know I'll probably regret it, but could you give me a hand to pack and stack?"

Tanya clapped while Beck sprang to her feet and towed her old man bodily into their bedroom. "Moosh," he said, upending his orange dive-bag onto the bed, "Why have I got the feeling this is a setup?"

Beck looked at him, her baby blue eyes big and disarming. "What would give you that idea?"

"Something Tanny does when she's being sneaky."

"What?"

"Well I'm not gonna tell you. Cos' then you'll tell her and she'll stop doing it. This has got 'setup' written all over it."

"It's not a setup, honest. We had a look on goggle Earth and it looks just amazing. In the middle of nowhere with all these green paddocks. It's even got its own little pathway down to the beach. With stone walls and smuggler's coves and walking tracks all over the place. Dripping in history. You're gonna love it."

"I'M gonna love it." Watson glared, dive bag half-packed.

"WE will. We all will. We're all gonna love it. Don't forget your toothbrush."

Watson stared deep into her eyes, searching for any hint of duplicity. Finding none, not even her trademark twinkle of mischief only honed his suspicions.

"And it's got a nice big bed and flatscreen TV."

"If I didn't know you better, Rebekah Watson."

"I know!" Beck gushed, snapping her fingers, summoning up a look of childlike innocence. "We can buy a kite."

Tanya had a valet bring the Range Rover to the hotel portico. Watson shuddered inwardly watching the traffic roar by, cars, trucks, scooters and bicycles, vehicles in their thousands going nowhere in a hurry. Thrilled to have the nightmare of Ab Aldafra behind him, he was yet nursing an unrequited longing for his yacht and the open sea. For the peace. The wall-to-wall solitude. A holiday might be good for him after all, a chance to roam the coastal cliffs for a couple of days. Just him. And Beck. And Ally. And Vicky of course. And Cass and Suong. And... He heaved a sigh. Oh well, the solitude could wait.

Busy loading his luggage, a movement caught his eye. Turning, he found the English girl, Penny, standing behind him, shoulders hunched, arms crossed, glaring daggers at her surrounds. While Tanya stowed her backpack, Watson pointed. "Penny?"

Penny curled her lip. "Don't blame me."

"Here's your navigator." Tanya said brightly.

Watson shook his head. "Oh no you don't."

Jaw set, Tanya narrowed her eyes a pinch. "Oh yes I do. This is her home turf, isn't it Darling? She knows the place like the back of her hand."

Penny curled her lip. "I've never been near Cornwall in my life."

"There you go." Tanya nodded, looking at Watson. "What's that other thing you say? It's always good to go somewhere you've never been before."

"But... but..." Watson blustered, "I don't know the way."

"It's got a GPS. Now off you go."

Watson looked around for lurking film crews. This had Candid Camera written all over it. Stepping back, he gestured at the car. "Okay, then, Penny. Would you like to drive?"

"NO!" Penny threw her hands up. "No. I don't even want to be passenger."

"Then why don't you..."

"Hop in?" Tanya said, crowding Penny into the passenger seat. "Sterling idea. Damon?"

"I frikken' knew it." the old man growled.

"Knew what?"

Watson levelled a finger in Tanya's face. "I'm telling you. If you're not there by dark."

Tanya wrapped a hand around his finger. "Then what?"

"I'm coming back."

She kissed his fingertip. "That won't be necessary, believe me. Off you go. I'll send you a message when we're on our way.

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The five-hour trip felt like a modest eternity. When Watson stopped for fuel and coffee, Penny stayed behind, seat back, eyes closed, no phone or radio, silently proclaiming her intention of hating every minute. She didn't want a seaside holiday. And she didn't want a bar of this stupid old man. She wanted to be back where she belonged, in a stifling cell surrounded by hookers and thieves, with pigswill for food and lights on twenty-four seven. In a foreign land, so alien it might as well have been a different planet. That's where she was meant to be, deserved to be, forever and ever.

Finally, mercifully, they bumped down a narrow gravel drive, past stables and machinery sheds, workers quarters and outbuildings, in the midst of carefully tended fields. Shutting down outside the farmhouse, Watson climbed out, stiff from the drive, and slipped a crumpled envelope from a back pocket, checking the lock code, written in Tanya's own fair hand. With a poison pen, in purple ink. While Penny sat, immovable- she had to have the bladder of a camel- he swiped up the keypad and typed in the code.

To be fair, as much it pained him, the place was gorgeous. The product of a no-holds-barred renovation once featured on TV. The original building had been standing for over 300 years, built to last, the two-storey stonework exterior almost unaltered. Inside was a different story, ultra-modern, with soaring ceilings and priceless woodwork, grey slate floors strewn with exquisite silk carpets and a teak spiral stairway leading upstairs. Open-plan ground floor, state-of-the-art kitchen and living room. Utility room, a study, and the sort of bathroom Watson had recently seen in a seven-star hotel. The huge, open fireplace, obviously original, was already set, awaiting a match. Outside, through sliding glass doors set in an array of floor to ceiling windows, a wide, wooden deck, under cover of a sail, overlooking a distant seascape, with expensive outside furniture and a ten-burner barbeque.