Read Online Butterflies (The Secret Casebook of Simon Feximal) by Kj Charles - Free Book Online

 
    It was a fortnight after my first and, so far, only meeting with Simon Feximal. He had rid my inherited house of a lustful ghost, opened my eyes to a concealed world of strange forces and arcane knowledge, and buggered me twice. The next day he had departed, with a nod of thanks, a final-sounding farewell, and no hint of regret in his stern dark eyes. I had wondered whether to propose another meeting, but looking at that remote face, I lost my nerve.
    It was hardly unusual behaviour. Those of us who prefer the company of men know that many of those men want to leave one’s company as quickly as possible after the fact. The only dignified response is a smile and a shrug, even if one should wish for more. And Simon Feximal, with his strange air of a pagan priest, and the occult writing scrawling itself over his skin, was not a man to bother with importunities.
    I was disappointed, but not surprised. My own features – medium stature, green eyes and unimpressively brown hair – were pleasant but undistinguished. My profession as a journalist would doubtless be repulsive to a man with secrets to keep.
    I could understand his indifference to my person and forgive his dislike of my profession. What I found a great deal harder to swallow was the bill for his services.
    He did not send it. A fee for the visit had been agreed, but he was to give me a final amount depending on the work required. In the natural excitement of the moment, and the next day’s awkwardness, I had certainly not thought to request it. And it was not sent.
    I wrote to him, a businesslike note, asking for the amount due. He ignored the letter. I wrote again, and received a note by return.
    I will admit, I had butterflies in my stomach as I opened it. I wondered if there might be a personal response. Perhaps even a suggestion that we might meet again.
    There was no such suggestion. Merely a few lines in a clear, vigorous hand, stating that there would be no charge.
    I read the note with incredulity, then dawning fury, as it came upon me with stunning force that Feximal apparently considered my services as bed-partner would suffice in lieu of payment. Whether he believed that I had been paying him by offering my body, or far worse, that he was paying me for my services by waiving his fee for his, I did not know. I did not care. I damned his eyes, the patronising swine, and sent a twenty-guinea payment that I could ill afford along with a note nicely judged to convey my sense of offence, and I resolved to be relieved that I would never see him again.
    In fact, it took ten days.
     
    ***
     
    ‘Get down to Winchester,’ Mr Lownie told me. He was the editor of the Chronicle then, a tense, compact young man with a habit of chewing his pipe stem to splinters. ‘Extraordinary reports. Two deaths, against all nature. There’s a train at quarter past.’
    He pushed a paper into my hand and thrust me out of the office. I was used to this unceremonious method of briefing, and I did not so much as glance at my orders, concentrating only on the seemingly impossible feat of catching the allotted train. I ran to the Underground, fretted until I reached the station, secured my ticket, and leapt aboard the second-class carriage almost as the train drew away with the angry cries of a guard ringing in my ears.
    The carriage was empty, and I sat back in my seat, took a much-needed breath, and looked for the first time at my brief, which included two reports from the local Winchester newspaper and a transcribed statement from the local doctor. I read them with curiosity mingled with growing horror.
    It seemed that some five days ago, a young lady and her governess, taking a walk in the woods, had stumbled upon a strange discovery. From a distance it seemed to them to be a great pile of brightly coloured paper, a vast heap of trimmings and cuttings piled into a mound some six feet long and perhaps two feet high. As they approached the peculiar sight, they realised with