Stations of the Soul

by Chris Lewando

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because if people find out, our blood will become priceless. Everyone will want what we’ve got, and it’s not the deserving who are likely to get hold of it; it’s the ruthless. We’ll be milked like cows, our blood sold to the highest bidders.’

  ‘That’s a scary concept, I’d agree.’

  ‘Joel’s enjoying his superior strength, and is seeking some kind of godhood, but Sarah and I just want to live out our lives like normal people, if that’s even possible.’

  ‘Will you have children?’

  ‘I don’t know. I guess the pertinent question is, should we.’

  ‘The church doesn’t advocate birth control.’

  At his dry humour, Robin flashed a smile so beautiful it sent shivers down the priest’s spine.

  ‘So, what now, eh, Father? What do you think I should do? I can’t go to the police. If I told them what I’ve just told you, they’d lock me up somewhere I’d never see the light of day again.’

  Father Kelly pondered for a moment, and sighed. ‘I truly don’t know. Maybe we should sleep on it. In the morning, maybe I’ll see you’re just a troubled man.’

  Before he could react, Robin grabbed the knife which had been used to slice the bread, and sawed a jagged cut into his forearm. His face puckered at the sudden explosion of pain.

  The Priest gasped, leapt to his feet much too late to stop him, and watched, amazed, as the blood stopped pumping and the skin began to knit. Within a short while, the wound was no more than a jagged scar. The widening pool of blood a blemish on the table between them. Father Kelly reached out, would have touched, but Robin pushed his hand aside. ‘You don’t want to do that,’ he said grimly. ‘It might, for all I know, be the way to eternal life, but it has its drawbacks.’

  The Priest took a deep, shuddering breath, and nodded. ‘It’s possible, after all, that your blood has more material value than anything else in the world at this moment.’

  ‘The bigger problem at this time is Joel. I can’t think of a way of stopping him. The authorities wouldn’t be able to hold him.’

  ‘Should I talk to him?’

  ‘You could try. If you’re lucky, he might die laughing. Truly, he has to die.’

  Father Kelly was silent for a moment, then said, ‘We don’t have the right to be judge, jury, and executioner. Only God has that right.’

  ‘But God doesn’t intervene, does he? Maybe he never did. And if Joel lives, many more will die, because he enjoys killing. He has no compassion, no empathy, no remorse. Yet if I kill him, I might become what I’m trying to rid the world of? Do you see my dilemma?’

  Father Kelly closed his eyes slowly, hoping he was having a bad dream, but when he opened them, Robin was still there, his eyes creased into crow’s feet. ‘What on earth is there to be amused at?’ he said crossly.

  ‘If I’ve done nothing else, I’ve restored your faith in the soul.’

  He shook his head, but his lips were twitching. ‘Even so, I really don’t see how I can help you.’

  ‘You’re the expert on souls. Think of something.’

  Chapter 54

  A week had passed since Robin had disappeared, and Sarah was beside herself, pacing, turning, fretting, in the small living room. Her father was kneeling, lighting the fire. Superhuman or not, he didn’t like the cold. Eventually a flame erupted and took hold.

  ‘Oh, sit down,’ he snapped. ‘He’ll be back. If we stay here, he knows where to find us.’

  ‘If he could, he would have by now.’

  ‘Maybe he’s enjoying his unexpected gift.’

  ‘He wouldn’t be killing people for the buzz,’ she sneered. ‘Maybe he’s given himself up.’

  ‘I doubt it. Whether you like it or not, he’s like us, now, and he’s intelligent enough to know he can’t tell anyone anything. He’d be chucked in an asylum, or more likely, a laboratory, drugged up to the eyeballs.’

  ‘Well, perhaps that’s what’s happened.’

  He rose, and stood with his back to the fire, his hands clasped behind his back, in a stance she recalled from her early childhood,’ and asked, ‘Why did you save him? Why not anyone else?’

  ‘I don’t know. He’d fought all that time to stay alive… I was tired. Not thinking straight.’

  ‘He was supposed to die. I should have finished him off, like I did the others who saw me.’

  Sarah winced, and coldness seeped through her skin. ‘Did you do it? Use the stinger, kill all those people?’

  He smiled dreamily. ‘You know I did. My God, was that the biggest hit ever? I was floating afterwards.’

  ‘And the two children and the mother, when that priest saw me?’

  ‘That was just a plain old traffic accident, I guess.’

  She scowled. ‘Joel’s gone, isn’t he?’

  ‘Hopefully.’

  ‘You really are the most evil man alive.’

  ‘I doubt it. Think of all the businesses who poison people left, right and centre in the name of commerce. All the political dissidents who disappear…People kill for power or gain all the time, and most of them never get caught. You have to admit, at least I’m not being deceitful about what I want out of life.’

  After a short silence, she realised Joel had been fretting, too, when he added, ‘I wonder where he did go? Once he had time to think, I was sure he’d come back.’

  She didn’t offer comment.

  ‘Maybe he’s gone back to London,’ he mused.

  ‘Why would he go there?’

  ‘He hasn’t come here, so he’s either decided to cut loose entirely, or he’s gone back to the only place he knows. An animal goes back to its lair to die. But where? His home’s gone, our home’s gone, too by now. Who else did he know?’

  Sarah shrugged. ‘After the accident he discovered he didn’t have any friends.’

  Any more than she had. Who would she talk to? She couldn’t think of a single person she’d ever confided in, save Robin. After all these years, that was a pretty sad reflection on her life. She realised how lonely she’d been, how dedicated to Joel, keeping him safe, when all the time her father had been growing strong, pushing Joel out.

  And yet… There was no way he could have pretended to be Joel, so completely. His intelligence would have inadvertently slipped out at times, how could it be otherwise? Did that mean Joel wasn’t gone? That somehow her father could take control when he wanted to, but when it suited him, let Joel inhabit his own body?

  If so, did Joel even know that was happening?

  That still didn’t answer the question of where Robin could be. She gathered he didn’t want to put himself back into her father’s hands, and was banking on the fact that he wouldn’t harm her.

  Would Robin go to Redwall? It was unlikely.

  The only other person Robin had spoken to in the last few months had been that priest who had seen her with the mother and two children who had died. The other angel story. She had been lucky enough to slip away before anyone else saw her, but Robin told her he’d visited the priest; seeking what, he hadn’t been sure. In a crisis, who else would he talk to about souls?

  Joel went out, came back with a massive armload of wood, and plumped himself down in a chair. ‘Now, my sweet, I fancy a coffee. Put the kettle on.’

  ‘Don’t call me that.’

  ‘What do you want me to call you? Sis?’

  How did he know that was what Joel called her? ‘Try Sarah. It’s what you named me, for some reason.’

  ‘It was actually the name of an aunt of mine.’

  That was the first time the possibility hit Sarah that there might be any of his relations hanging around. But then, they were a few generations away now, in time. And no one had ever come to Wood Hall claiming to be a descendent, or even a possible heir, come to that.

  She glared at Joel – it was hard to think of him as anything but her needy brother, but the sly, intelligent glance she received in return suggested that he was amused by her confusion. Ev
en if she wanted to harm him, it would be like harming her own brother, almost her child. She probably couldn’t do it, and he knew that, the bastard.

  She stamped out to the kitchen, turned on the kettle, and noticed, peeping out from behind a jar, the sleeping tablets she’d bought.

  Adrenaline hit her middle.

  She took a massively dosed coffee into Joel, and handed it to him with a sneer. ‘Here’s your coffee, daddy.’

  He took a sip. ‘It’s very sweet.’

  ‘I thought you needed sweetening.’

  He grinned, and took a swig. ‘That’s my girl. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, and admit you love me, really.’

  She snorted, and picked up the novel that she had been staring at, but not reading. The fire crackled and snapped, and gradually Joel’s head began to droop.

  Eventually, she went upstairs and gathered her few belongings, not trying to be quiet. He either knew, and was faking, or he was truly out. Grabbing the key to the van, she slipped outside, nervousness in every movement. Thank goodness the monster car Joel drove was parked to one side by the back door. She climbed into the van, and allowed gravity to pull it back to the road.

  It was an hour before she began to really believe she had escaped, and another couple of hours before she hit the outskirts of London. If Joel had been close on her heels, he would have overtaken her by now. Well, let him come back to London – he might guess that much, but he didn’t know about the priest. She’d go there first, find out if Robin had been there. If she was lucky, the priest might know where he’d gone.

  Chapter 55

  Chief Inspector Loughton was a tall, sallow-skinned man with protruding bones. He looked as though he had died a few days previously, but was miraculously still breathing. They’d heard of him; he’d made a name for being a bulldog, but the DCI now understood why his nick-name was The Cadaver.

  As they were shown into what was presumably his office, he rose to meet them, stretching a smile that didn’t reflect in his mud-brown eyes. With his large, horse-like teeth, the effect was anything but charming. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ he said. ‘How was the journey?’

  ‘Slow. A few hold-ups. Sorry we’re late.’ The room was bigger, newer, and more luxurious than the DI’s own. He couldn’t help the comparison, especially when sinking into the comfortable chair that was probably hardly a year old.

  The Cadaver was impatient, ‘OK. I understand you have information about the whereabouts of our guys?’

  ‘Our guys,’ Redwall said mildly. ‘And one woman.’ He was old fashioned enough to think guys meant men. ‘OK, so, straight to it, then. Jim here has been looking into everything to do with Professor Waterman, the dead man we found in the cell. You were sent the background details last week?’

  ‘I read what you sent. It was bizarre, to say the least.’

  ‘Well, we’re wondering if Joel is some kind of relative to the dead guy. Grandchild, maybe. Either that, or he simply was a caretaker and had no idea the old guy had been down there. That room hadn’t been opened for years, and Joel isn’t old enough to have done it himself.’

  ‘And the woman?’

  ‘Another anomaly. She knows Joel. She was living in the house, anyway. It almost seems as if they grew up there, but I don’t know if she’s related to either Joel or the professor, or in what way. From what we learned at the hospital, and from the house, it didn’t seem as if they had a relationship, so there’s the possibility they’re brother and sister. We won’t know until we get our hands on them, or some DNA. But what we do know, or think we know, is that they’ve taken up with Robin Vanger. Which of the two men killed the prostitutes, we don’t know.’

  ‘Two psychopaths? How in hell did these guys get together?’

  Redwall grimaced. ‘Who knows how these people find each other. But Sarah and Vanger are pretty bright, and Joel’s retarded, or at least, slow. There’s a possibility they’re using him, making him do stuff for them.’

  ‘We have bulletins out. We’re looking, but nothing so far. What can we do?’ He splayed his hands out,’ shrugging.

  Redwall smiled and played his trump card. ‘We have a possible address.’

  The Cadaver leaned forward. ‘Where?’

  ‘Hope Valley.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘No, but it’s a property owned by the deceased professor.’

  He walked over to a map on the wall, and stabbed a finger. ‘Right in the middle of hiking country.’

  ‘And close enough to Stockport for our murder.’

  ‘Quite.’

  The door opened, and a WPC came in with a tray and a smile. ‘Dare you risk a coffee?’

  ‘I’m used to police brutality,’ Redwall quipped.

  The operation was calculated down to the tiniest detail. The roads leading to Hope Valley were blocked. Men had been dropped on the various walking routes that might be used in the event of flight. The Cadaver settled in, and started the engine.

  ‘OK, Let’s get them.’

  He drove competently, not exceeding any speed limits. There was a singular lack of panic in his movements, a burning excitement visible only in the brilliance of eyes. Redwall was running on adrenaline, his heart beating in overdrive, his mouth dry. They were all there, he knew. He could feel it in his bones.

  There was silence until the Cadaver said, ‘The chopper’s going over, in around,’ he checked his watch, ‘five minutes.’

  They waited. There was a buzz on the speaker, and a patchy voice over an immense pulsing vibration. ‘Overhead now. No vehicles in the drive.’

  ‘Shit,’ the Cadaver said, knocking the car down a gear before slowing to a crawl, minimising the engine noise. He slid into the side of the road just before the slope up to the cottage.

  ‘Doesn’t mean they’re all out,’ Redwall said.

  Marksmen targeted the windows and doors of the small cottage. Redwall and the cadaver hung back while a cop walked up to the front door, and knocked. He carried a pair of hill-walking sticks, had a rucksack on his back, a map prominent in his other hand, and a flak jacket under his parka.

  There was no answer.

  When they entered, they found no sign of a hasty exit. There were used mugs, a fire not yet cold to the touch, but the doors were locked.

  ‘As if they’ve just gone out shopping,’ Redwall suggested.

  The Cadaver snapped, ‘Then we’ll be here when they get back. Out, now, vacate the place! The perimeters are all covered.’

  In the meantime, further enquiry discovered a caretaker who had been looking after the cottage for years. ‘Knew someone would come, sooner or later,’ he said laconically. ‘The woman was a stunner. Seen her at the window. But that guy of hers, didn’t like the size of him, for sure. I was just waiting to see if they were staying or going.’

  From the description, he’d only seen Joel. Whether Vanger had been there with them was unclear. And no one knew where they’d gone. They did know that there had been a small white van, and a Defender on the drive, but the caretaker hadn’t noted the registrations.

  After a long day and a night, it was concluded that the fugitives had gone, and Redwall drove back to London, leaving the Cadaver staking the place out, as unhappy as he was. They had no idea whether their fugitives had gone north, south, or had even left the country.

  Chapter 56

  Robin was filled with remorse for running out on Sarah. He hadn’t meant to. He’d felt so unclean, so sullied and implicated by Joel’s action, that he’d wanted to lose himself. He couldn’t simply walk back into Joel’s grasp, but hadn’t known what to do. If he went back, it wouldn’t do Sarah any good, and at least by removing himself from Joel’s vicinity, he’d given both himself and Sarah space.

  Though whether she saw it like that, he didn’t know.

  In the end he’d cleaned up a bit in a restroom, hitched a lift to London, and broken into the church. Joel would probably try to make Sarah believe he’d abandoned her; he hoped she had more fait
h. So, here he was, back in London, but the problem shared wasn’t a problem halved. He was a wanted man, a murderer on the run, and Father Kelly was probably breaking the law by sheltering him. Truly, he wanted to explain everything to Redwall, but it wasn’t going to happen.

  Father Kelly had listened in silence, but they had come no closer to reaching a solution. There was the problem of how you could kill someone who had become somewhat more than mortal. A stake in the heart? Cut off his head? Though even an enhanced body might succumb to the former, he guessed the latter would be more permanently effective. But Father Kelly’s absolute belief that murder was a sin was a major sticking point. Robin had asked, at one point, would you kill the devil given the opportunity? But the priest said, only God could kill the devil, and he had chosen not to, because there was always room for forgiveness. Despite everything, Joel had been born a man, and was probably still human. They’d argued that one around the houses, and he wouldn’t budge, even after hearing Robin’s story about the prostitute in Stockport.

  ‘But you didn’t kill her,’ he said, putting a hand on Robin’s bent shoulder.

  ‘No, and I didn’t save her, either.’

  ‘From the sound of it, it wasn’t that you didn’t try.’

  ‘No, but I still feel I should have done something.’ He shuddered. ‘I’ve never seen anything like that before. I’ll never forget it.’

  He’d been shocked at how utterly helpless he’d been. Until then, he’d assumed one could break a cable tie, somehow, if the need was great enough. It took the prostitute’s death to make him realise how wrong he had been, even with his enhanced strength.

  But neither he nor Father Kelly knew what to do.

  If he went to Redwall, he’d be locked up, and that would leave Sarah at Joel’s mercy, and Joel free to do whatever he pleased. No one would believe Robin’s story, after all. Well, they might, if he showed them his amazing ability to heal, but that would set humanity on a scramble for the biggest prize of all: immortality, or whatever Robin and Sarah and Joel had, which was the nearest thing to it.