The Tomb (Scarrett & Kramer Book 3)

by Neil Carstairs

  “He went into the trees with the woman.”

  “Show me,” Kramer said, hoping her relief didn’t show in her voice too much.

  Buhl led at a flat out run, weaving between trees that seemed to shiver in fear at the fire raging nearby.

  “There!” Ranson shouted.

  Kramer looked the way he pointed. The shoreline changed direction, and now, rather than heading deeper into the forest they were leaving it again. Kramer held up a hand, and her team stopped. They took cover behind the thick trunks of pine trees and assessed the situation.

  Scarrett, face down on the shore and unmoving. Two gods and a fucking ugly monster surrounding Itzel. “We need her alive,” Kramer said, keeping her voice low.

  “They’re too close to her.” Buhl knelt beside her. “One stray round and she’s gone.”

  “Then they need to be distracted.” Kramer gave the DSI agent a hard smile.

  Buhl beckoned to Ranson and Pruitt. “You two stay here, once those things are clear of the woman take them down.”

  Kramer and Buhl stepped out of the tree line. A fitful breeze gusted into Kramer’s face. It made her nerves jump as she stepped from soil onto a light, gravelly sand. The god with the skull head saw her first. His gesture made the others turn. “You break left, I’ll go right,” Kramer said, from the corner of her mouth.

  Buhl nodded. They waited for the attack, taking steady paces towards Itzel and her captors. Kramer risked a quick glance at Scarrett. He lay a dozen yards ahead, halfway between her and the gods. She saw the fluttering movement of his chest with relief. Movement drew her attention back up. The gods dragged Itzel further away, to the edge of the lake where the water rippled ashore in lazy waves. That left the brutal shape of the other monster. Something changed, a shimmer in the air like heat waves that morphed the creature back into human form and Kramer realised it was the High Priest.

  “Jesus,” Buhl said.

  The High Priest’s arms rose, and Kramer saw him look up at the sky as if to call down aid. It came in the form of a curtain, strands of energy that blended to form an opaque shield. For a second the pulsing barrier remained. Then it rose back into the sky, and the lake shore stood empty. The High Priest, the gods and Itzel gone with it. And, Kramer realised in horror, Scarrett had vanished as well.

  Kramer stared at the space, willing them to return. Nothing happened. She jumped when Buhl touched her arm.

  “Captain?”

  Kramer ignored him. She ran to where Scarrett had lain, the impression of his body discernible in the sand. Her hand patted across the ground, trying to find him but the High Priest had taken him.

  “Captain?” Buhl again, raising his voice. “Jo?”

  “What?”

  “We need to go.”

  “I’m not going until we find Scarrett,” Kramer said, shaking his hand off as he tried to grasp her arm again.

  “We have to go,” Buhl said. “Look.”

  “Oh, God.”

  The hotel burned hard now, and spiralling embers that had been carried aloft by thermals from the fire fell back to earth, landing in the upper branches of the pine trees. Kramer could see fires at the tops of a dozen or more trees and as they burned so more flames and embers rose and fell like a living lava lamp. Patches of scrub on the ground lit up. Trees ignited as heat rippled out from the growing mass of flames. She couldn’t see much of the hotel. Smoke covered the scene, and only the eerie glow of flames showed where it had once stood.

  Buhl dragged her along the shoreline, joined by Ranson and Pruitt. Heat pulsed against them and the crackle and snap of burning wood blended into a sound like a battlefield. Smoke stung at her eyes and throat. They splashed out into the shallow waters at the edge of the lake, trying to stay as far from the fire as possible. By the time they drew level with the hotel, Kramer could see cars burning in the parking lot. Two trees came down, adding to the conflagration. Their only route to safety lay up the access road, and that now ran between an avenue of trees that burned like Roman candles.

  Kramer wiped tears from her face as she stood in ankle deep water. The hotel fire had now become a forest fire. She couldn’t see anyone else on the shoreline and prayed that Ruby had been quick enough to get everyone to safety before the road out became impassable.

  “Hey! Hey!”

  The voice came from behind her. Kramer, Buhl and the others turned. A jon boat, the sound of its outboard engine lost against the roar of the fire, sped towards them. Kramer saw two men on board, their fishing rods discarded. The flat-bottomed hull of the vessel allowed the guy on the tiller to bring it close to them. Kramer waded out to thigh depth before rolling over the gunwale and into the boat.

  “Looks like we got to you folks in time,” a grizzled old man said, with a gap-toothed grin.

  “We owe you.” Buhl shook his hand.

  “You the last?” the guy at the outboard asked. “Us and a couple of other boats pulled some folks out a few minutes ago, and one of the girls from the hotel said there might be others left behind.”

  “We’re the last,” Kramer said, her eyes on the strip of shoreline where Scarrett had disappeared.

  “We’ll drop you up by the bridge. The wind’s blowing the fire away from there so you should be okay for a couple of hours,” the old timer said.

  Kramer didn’t reply. She lost sight of the shoreline, like she’d lost sight of Scarrett. And it hurt.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Emily lay on her bed and watched a speck of dust float down towards her face. She pursed her lips and gave a little blow. The dust rose, a swift tumbling movement that lifted it close to the ceiling. Emily waited. She watched. It began to descend again. She smiled. This would be the ninth time, and she wanted to reach double figures before letting the dust fall. Watching the dust mote kept her mind off her mom and the men who had tried to kill her yesterday. She still didn’t know who they were. General Dawson did, and Emily thought that maybe Pete knew as well. The adults seemed to be spending a lot of time in one of the barns. Emily guessed they had a prisoner in there. Part of her wanted to go and look. To see what this man who wanted her dead looked like. And to find out what part he’d played in the death of her mom.

  Mom.

  Emily rolled over, dust mote forgotten. The image of Jane in the moment of death filled Emily’s mind. Blood. Shock. Noise. Emily stifled her sobs in her pillow, the material soaking up her tears as soon as they formed. Every moment she expected to see her mom walk in the door, that it had all been a terrible mistake and the doctors were wrong when they said she’d died. Then she remembered kneeling in the pool of blood and screaming.

  Mom.

  “Emily?”

  Emily turned, blinking her eyes clear of tears. Connor stood at the end of the bed. He looked scared.

  “Emily?” he asked again, walking around to the side of the bed.

  “Connor? What are you doing here?” she sat up and sniffed, wiping her snotty nose on the sleeve of her top.

  “I came for you,” he said. The boy sat down but made no impression on the mattress.

  Emily stared at him. What does he mean? “For me?”

  “Yes.” He must have seen the fear in her eyes because he added, “We need you to help us, gods are trying to change the world. We’ve tried to track them before, but we know where they are now.”

  “How?” Emily swung her feet off the bed.

  “They captured Ben, and it’s because I have a connection with Ben that we can find them. He was with us at Darlford when I died so my spirit can link to him. You can channel power to help us fight them.”

  “How do we get there?” Emily began hunting for her shoes. “I don’t think Pete will want me going.”

  “You must spirit walk,” Connor said. He came and stood beside her. “I’ll be with you all the way.”

  Emily dropped the shoe she’d picked up. “I can’t do that.”

  “Yes, you can.” He gave her an encouraging smile. His spirit seemed to glow
from within and made his teeth sparkle.

  Connor trusted her. If he said she could do it then maybe she should give it a go. “What will happen to me?”

  “You lie on the bed, and it’s like you’re asleep.”

  “I need to tell Pete. If he came in and tried to wake me, it would scare him.”

  Emily ran from the room, Connor following. She found Pete in the ranch’s study. He sat in front of a big window and stared out across pasture. In the middle distance, three armed men patrolled the grounds. Emily ignored them. She stopped in front of Pete and waited for his eyes to focus on her. Jane’s death had hit him hard. On top of her death, the attempt to kill Emily had made him realise the enormity of the situation. He wanted to adopt her but had no idea how to care for an almost teenage girl who’d lost her mother and had powers beyond understanding.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, coming up from the chair.

  “I need to leave for a while,” she said.

  Pete stared down at her. “You can’t,” he said. “General Dawson needs us to stay here until we know the people trying to kill you are stopped for good.”

  Emily shook her head. “My body will still be here. But my spirit will be on a walk.”

  “No.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “I can’t let you do that.”

  “Connor will be with me,” Emily said.

  “Connor?” Pete saw the boy appear next to Emily. He sat down with a thump. Emily saw Pete’s protest die on his lips as he looked from dead boy to living girl. “You’re going,” he said.

  Emily nodded. “I’ll be asleep in my room.”

  “I don’t want to lose you.” Emily saw tears fill his eyes as Pete reached out to her. One spilled out and ran down his cheek.

  “I’ll take care of Emily,” Connor said.

  Pete pulled Emily close. His arms encircled her in a crushing embrace. “I love you,” he said into her hair.

  Emily kissed his cheek. “You’re the only man I have ever called dad,” she said.

  Pete smiled, hugged her again and said, “What do I do?”

  “Wait,” Connor said. “Make sure she’s comfortable and if anyone thinks there’s something wrong tell them not to try to force her to wake up.”

  “Got it.” Pete nodded.

  Pete followed them back to Emily’s room. She lay on her bed, and on Connor’s instruction closed her eyes.

  “It will look like she’s relaxing,” Connor said to Pete.

  “And how long will this take?”

  Emily never heard the answer. A soft rushing sound filled her head and even as she identified it as the sound of her blood racing through veins and arteries she felt herself falling into a dark pit.

  Connor appeared at her side. He took her hand. “This will feel like you are flying,” he said. “But it will be faster than anything you’ve ever experienced before.”

  Emily didn’t trust herself to speak. Connor gave her another reassuring smile, and the darkness around them blurred to light so bright it made Emily scream.

  ***

  Ben woke on a field of ash. Low clouds, fat with rain, sped across the sky, driven by a gale that carried a stench of death. He rolled onto his side. Pain fluttered across his shoulders, and his neck didn’t move as smoothly as it should.

  Damn, what hit me?

  He saw the answer a dozen yards away. The High Priest circled Itzel where the gods held her. The High Priest seemed to be talking, but the howling wind plucked the words from his lips and tossed them so far that Ben couldn’t hear them. Itzel lay on the ground, curled into a ball. Ben crawled across the ash towards them, his skin and clothing getting blacker and blacker with every moment.

  The High Priest saw him coming with a dead smile. Ben wished he hadn’t moved as a boot kicked him in the ribs. Fire and light filled Ben’s head. Nothing filled his lungs. When he tried to breathe, his throat filled with ash and he began to choke. Itzel looked at him with miserable eyes. Ben puked, hot liquid clearing his throat enough for him to get air into his lungs. The High Priest reached down and dragged Ben to his feet. The world spun around Ben, the horizon rocking like a see-saw. He closed his eyes until the vertigo passed. The High Priest shook him. Ben opened his eyes.

  Itzel stood before him. The gods held her arms. Ben made eye-contact and tried to smile. She nodded as if accepting his attempt at friendship. They were enemies, but right now enemies in the same situation.

  “The goddess is lost,” the High Priest said to Itzel. “You left her in the hotel and the fire has taken her.”

  Itzel didn’t reply. Skull-head shook her. “You left her,” Itzel said. “Not me.”

  The High Priest slapped her, the sound of flesh on flesh as sharp as a gunshot. Itzel sagged in the gods’ hands. Ben took a step forward and walked into an invisible wall as the High Priest turned and pointed at him. The air solidified around Ben, trapping him in place. The High Priest nodded, as if satisfied that Ben had learned a lesson. He turned away, and as he did so the air flowed around Ben again. He watched the gods pull Itzel back up. Ben could see the side of her face turning red.

  “What’s so important about the goddess?” Ben asked.

  “She would have guided the destruction to come.” The High Priest seemed more concerned that Itzel could stand on her own two feet.

  “What destruction?” Ben wanted to keep him talking, anything to avoid another attack.

  “The end of the world,” the High Priest said. He smiled when he saw the look on Ben’s face, and added. “It’s time.”

  Skull-face let go of Itzel and walked away. Ben saw him stop, raise his arms and call out. The ground moved. Not all of it, Ben saw. A rough, rectangular section slid back like the lid of a box. The High Priest pushed Ben to the lip of the opening as the other god dragged Itzel across. They stood there. Ben looked down. He couldn’t see much. Shadows filled most of the pit. In some places, he could make out broken beams and shattered furniture. It looked like the basement of a building.

  That thought made Ben examine the terrain around him. He saw them now, lines on the ground that marked places where buildings once stood. The foundations were all that had survived of this part of town, wherever it was. Beyond the nearest ruins, he saw the remains of taller structures on the horizon. The skeletal shapes sent fingers of steel and concrete pointing into the sky. Dirty grey clouds rushed through the twisted wreckage of skyscrapers. Lightning flickered, striking one of the monuments, and thunder rolled across the sky.

  The High Priest smiled at Ben. “It’s time,” he said, and threw Ben out into the void.

  Ben took a breath but had no time to release it as a scream before he landed. The table collapsed beneath his weight, absorbing most of the impact but still throwing him off onto the sharp edges of shattered reinforced concrete.

  Fuck.

  Ben wanted to die. Every part of him hurt now. Tissue, muscles and bone sent frantic signals to his brain. He rolled onto his back. The silhouettes of the gods, the High Priest and Itzel seemed to rise. At first Ben thought he was hallucinating until they came closer and he saw they were floating down onto the floor of the basement. “Why couldn’t I do that?” Ben asked, from where he lay.

  The High Priest stared at him. “You are a sacrifice,” he said. “You have no rights.”

  Sacrifice? Did he say sacrifice? Oh, I’m really in the shit now.

  The gods pushed Itzel down so she sat on the floor next to Ben. The High Priest smiled down at them. “This is the end of the world,” he said. “Itzel, as the mother to my child, you will remain here until you give birth. Then you will be brought from this place, and the child will be the saviour of the remnants of humanity.”

  “Birth?” with exaggerated care Ben pushed himself up to sit alongside Itzel.

  “He raped me,” she said, never taking her eyes off the High Priest. “What do you mean, remain? I will die without food or water long before the birth.”

  “No.” The High Priest gestured at the walls. “
Look around you.”

  Ben stared at the shadows. As his eyes grew used to the light, he began to see the outline of people. Their bodies were ethereal, glimmering against the dirt stained walls. He started counting, turning as best his aching back would allow and reached thirty-nine before he lost count. Not real people, he realised. They were ghosts, or spirits, pinned to the wall by some unseen force like medieval prisoners in a castle dungeon.

  The High Priest’s face took on a triumphant look. “You will feed off these souls. They will keep you and the child inside you healthy. As they die, we will replace them.”

  Ben saw Itzel hug herself. The gods and the High Priest rose towards the surface. He struggled to his feet, but by the time he stepped onto a concrete beam that sloped up and may have given him a chance to reach them the cover of the basement began to slide back into position. Daylight faded. Night black darkness replaced the angry clouds. The sound of the storm cut off, dropping them into a deathly silence. Ben felt his way back to the place he had been sitting beside Itzel. He reached out and found her hand. “We’ll get out of here,” he said.

  “Will we?” her voice sounded distant, as if miles separated them.

  “Sure,” he spoke with a lot more confidence than he felt.

  “The gods will come for you soon.” Itzel squeezed his hand. “They will do the High Priest’s bidding and then claim you as theirs.”

  “And how are they going to do that?”

  “They will eat your heart.” She leaned against him in the dark.

  “Wow,” Ben said. “Thanks for breaking the news to me gently.”

  “You’ve heard the saying ‘heart and soul’? When they consume your heart, they consume your soul as well. You will be lost forever.”

  The trapped spirits shone like light-bulbs turned down low. Their glow gave form to the ruined basement. Ben reached out and grasped one broken leg of the table he’d fallen on. Holding the bottom end, he studied the splintered top. Standing again, Ben swung the leg baseball style and staggered as hot flashes of pain cut across his neck and shoulders. He took a couple of breaths to recover and then tried a stabbing motion, which didn’t hurt so much, but wouldn’t do a great deal of damage to the gods attacking him.