Kate Cotoner

Ethan Heng has come to the little English village of Hepplewick to investigate his family heritage. A misunderstanding over some church brasses leads to lunch with Matthew Jennings, the attractive young vicar, but soon the two men are plunged into a five hundred-year-old mystery when a Hand of Glory is discovered in the walls of the local pub.

Ethan and Matt discover clues left by the Hand's original owner, Abbot Fosbroke, who was executed for satanic practices and theft. Local lore states that Fosbroke's treasure is still waiting to be found, though generations have searched for it in vain. While Matt battles with demons from his past, Ethan urges him to rebuild his life and live for the moment. Their happiness--and the good of the village community--is entangled with the mystery of Fosbroke's treasure, and only the Hand of Glory can point the way.

Ethan glanced at Matt curiously. "Do you believe in ghosts?"

Matt met his gaze. "I'm a priest. I believe the human soul goes to God, but it can sometimes take a twisted path to reach Him. I also believe many ghosts aren't spirits at all, but imprints of traumatic events--like Anne Boleyn running screaming down the corridor at Hampton Court Palace prior to her execution." He hefted the hand gently. "That's why people set such great store by Hands of Glory. They all came from the hanged bodies of murderers. Men who lived violent lives usually had violent deaths. The trauma around them was considered a conduit for powerful magic, good or evil."

"You mean that's the hand of a murderer?" Ethan edged away from it. The bathroom seemed to have gone cold suddenly.

"Yes." Matt got up from the bathtub and set the hand down on the side of the sink. "The left hand was always taken first, because the left was considered evil. And this is a left hand. You can see where it was sawn off. Whoever prepared this did a good job. The stump is cauterized, properly sealed together."

They both jumped as a loud banging sounded from the room on the other side of the shattered wall. Matt jerked away from the sink, his sleeve catching against the hand. It fell, and without thinking, Ethan lunged forward and caught it.

It felt dry and scratchy in his arms. He had a strange feeling that the clawed hand was reaching up to grab his throat. Pushing aside the thought, he straightened and offered the grisly artifact to the priest.

"I'd forgotten about the other builder," Matt said. "Scared the life out of me!"

"Me, too."

"Thanks for saving it." Matt settled the hand back on the sink. "It would probably have exploded into dust if it fell on the floor. Or at least a few fingers would've dropped off. But look--the ring..."

Ethan had already spotted it. He retrieved the fallen ring and held it to the light. At first glance it appeared to be made of gold, with a claw setting holding a faceted ruby bigger than the first joint of his thumb. The stone flashed fire around the bathroom. He lowered the ring and caught sight of words engraved inside it.

"It says something here." Ethan gave it to Matt. "I've seen that ring before. It looks like the one worn by the effigy in your church."

"Abbot Fosbroke?" Matt's eyebrows rose. "You could be right. Medieval abbots did tend to wear gaudy rings like this one to show off their prestige. Let's see if the lettering can give us a clue..." He peered closer and sighed. "This isn't English. I think it must be Latin. It says Auri Sacra Fames."

Ethan gave him an admiring glance. "You can read Latin?"

Matt looked embarrassed. "Not really. Just the odd bit of ecclesiastical Latin, Adeste fidelis, that sort of thing. But this is definitely Latin. Auri means gold. Sacra must have something to do with sacred. Fames..."

"As in 'famous'?" Ethan suggested.

"I don't know." Matt chewed his lower lip as he puzzled over it. "Sacred gold? Maybe it's a reference to Fosbroke's treasure. He was reputed to have stolen vast amounts of money from the abbey."

"Aye, he did steal it. And he buried it, some say up on Grey Fell." Sam ventured back into the bathroom, nursing his cup of tea. The drink seemed to have restored his spirits. "He knew he would hang if the authorities caught up with him, so legend has it that he buried his treasure and left clues so his son would find the money."

Ethan blinked, not sure if he'd heard right. "Son?"

Sam grinned. "That's what they say. Hardly surprising, given that Fosbroke was shafting half the maidens in the village at the time. Stands to reason he'd have a couple of kids running around. But as far as I know, the treasure was never found."

"Maybe because they didn't have this." Matt held out the ring.

Sam studied it but didn't touch it. He frowned. "You think it's a clue?"

"Could be. Otherwise why would a Hand of Glory be wearing an abbot's ring? Why wasn't it stolen before the Hand was sealed inside the wall? It must be there for a reason." Matt shrugged. "Or maybe it's not a clue at all, but all that remains of the treasure. If Fosbroke tried to bribe his way out of execution, he might have had nothing left except this ring."

"Must be valuable." Sam was still frowning. "That's a big ruby."

Ethan lifted the ring from Matt's palm and examined it again. "It's not a ruby. I'm pretty sure this is a garnet. And this isn't gold, either. I think it's brass." He offered it to the landlord, who still seemed reluctant to touch it. Finally, curiosity won out and Sam took it from him.

"Seems like Abbot Fosbroke was cheap." Sam held the ring gingerly between thumb and forefinger, as if he feared contamination. He dropped it back into Matt's outstretched hand with a shudder. "Well, since it's not gold and it's not a ruby, I guess you can take it. If it'd been valuable, I'd have sold it on eBay to pay for a new wall."

"It still might have some value," Ethan said. "I'm sure the local museum would be interested in it, even if only from a historic perspective."

"They can have it." Sam cast a disgusted glance at the withered hand. "They can have that an' all. Nasty-looking thing!"

"It might look unpleasant, but it's part of a man's body." Matt slipped the ring into his pocket before he picked up the hand and wrapped it in a bath towel. "I'll keep the Hand and the ring in the vicarage until I can contact the museum. There aren't many Hands of Glory left these days, but they might think it's too gruesome to put on display. Ideally I'd like to bury it."

"Considering who it belonged to, I say you should definitely bury it!" Sam said.

Matt smiled and held the bundle to his chest. "Is this a historical artifact or is it a body-part in need of a respectful burial? Is it a link to a long-dead magician and the clue to buried treasure, or is it just a very old joke?"

"I don't care what it is, I just want it out of my pub." Sam made shooing motions, chasing them out of the bathroom. "Get it out of here before people ask questions."

"You're a terrible gossip, Sam," Matt pointed out. "By tonight the whole village will know what was found here. And you can bet the builders will talk, too."

Sam looked woeful. "Those buggers would sell their mothers for a pint. I suppose I'll have to tell people the truth."

Matt snorted. "As your vicar, I encourage you to do so."

"I just don't think people will be too happy about it, that's all. Abbot Fosbroke's hand! It's a bad sign, lads. You mark my words--it's a bad sign."