Evil Never Dies

by S M Hardy

  ‘Chanting?’ I said, thinking of my dreams. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Not really. It’s what it sounded like, but … I don’t know,’ she finished with a shrug.

  ‘Maybe we should all take a ride over there,’ I suggested.

  ‘Only if you’re prepared to ride Satan,’ Emma said, with a laugh. She turned to Laura. ‘Do you ride at all?’

  ‘I went pony-trekking with the school as a child, but not recently.’

  ‘Why don’t you go with Laura?’ Emma said. ‘She could ride Angel. She’s a steady mare.’

  I was about to object – I mean why would a young thing like Laura want to go riding with an old duffer like me? – but before I could get the words out Laura beamed at me. ‘Would you mind? I’d love to take a look around the estate.’

  ‘Of course, I’d be glad to,’ I said, feeling a bit like I’d been outmanoeuvred.

  ‘That’s settled, then,’ Emma said, with a twitch of her lips and trying not to laugh. ‘After we’ve finished breakfast, perhaps?’

  ‘I’d better go and ask Donald to get Angel and Jericho ready for us,’ I said.

  ‘I’m sure Mrs Walters will pass on a message,’ Emma said. ‘She’s bound to be back before we’ve done here.’

  Emma was right, as usual, and while I made the arrangements, the girls drifted off into the hallway laughing and chatting as they went. I was glad they were getting on so well, though in the present circumstances it would make it a bit difficult to leave. With Simon gone I couldn’t help feeling responsible for his grandniece.

  ‘All sorted?’ Emma asked as I joined them at the foot of the stairs.

  ‘Yep, Mrs Walters has gone off to speak to her husband now.’

  Laura started up the staircase. ‘I’ll see you shortly, then,’ she said, glancing back at me.

  I checked my watch. ‘Down here in twenty minutes?’

  She gave me another beaming smile and hurried off up the stairs.

  I followed Emma to our room to change, me into something suitable for riding and Emma into something light and cool for sunbathing. ‘While you’re off gallivanting, I’m going to sit in the courtyard and make the most of the sunshine,’ she told me.

  I left Emma poring over several pairs of shorts and T-shirts spread out over the bed. As I strode along the corridor, Maddy came hurrying towards me, clutching a carrier bag to her chest. She made one of her peculiar little bobbing motions as I passed. When I glanced back along the hallway she was knocking on our bedroom door. None the wiser, I carried on towards the stairs to meet Laura in the entrance hall.

  We heard the raised voices before we turned the corner into the stable yard. Laura gave me a perplexed look, it was obvious a full-scale row was going on. As we entered the yard a glowering young man, who I assumed to be another of the stable hands, was leading Satan out of his stall to join Jericho and Angel who were patiently waiting. The lad kept his head down, his full lips puffed into a morose pout. In the circumstances I couldn’t blame him. Dan Crouchley and a red-faced Donald Walters were going head to head while Mrs Walters looked on, her forehead creased into angry lines.

  ‘Don’t you dare speak to me like that,’ Donald said, and Dan burst into loud laughter.

  ‘Or what? You’ll do what?’

  The stable hand coughed, giving an almost imperceptible tilt of the head towards us and three sets of eyes immediately swung our way.

  Dan was the first to recover, though I think it more likely he couldn’t care less if the new lady of the manor caught him and Donald fighting. His lips curled into a smile. ‘Mrs Cummings not joining you?’ he asked.

  ‘Not today,’ I said.

  Dan laid a hand on Satan’s flank. ‘Mind if I tag along? I wouldn’t want to disappoint the lad, he’s all excited now, thinking he’s going for a trot.’

  Donald’s face flushed a deeper scarlet. If Laura noticed, she didn’t care. ‘Of course not,’ she said. ‘That would never do.’

  ‘I’ll be getting on,’ Donald said and, with a curt bob of the head to Laura and then me, stalked off towards the house with Mrs Walters in tow.

  Dan watched them go, his eyes glittering with laughter and I couldn’t help but wonder what the argument had been about.

  ‘I guess you’ll be wanting to take Jericho,’ he said to me.

  ‘Yes, thanks. These days I don’t think my riding skills are quite good enough for Satan.’

  He grinned. ‘Ah, the poor lad is misunderstood, that’s all, a bit like me.’

  I raised an eyebrow and his grin grew wider. He turned to Laura. ‘So, I’m guessing you must be the new mistress,’ he said. ‘I’m Dan Crouchley and if I can be of any assistance at any time, don’t hesitate to call.’

  ‘I’ll be sure to remember that,’ she said and by the slight flush to her cheeks I could tell she was already falling under the spell of his bad-boy good looks. I held in a sigh. Laura was a nice young woman and I didn’t want a rift developing between her and the staff over Dan, however likeable he was. I haven’t had an awful lot to do with servants, but one thing I did know, they were the biggest snobs in a household. Everyone had their place and they had to stick to it; mixing informally with their employers was not acceptable. Laura didn’t know the rules and I doubted Dan kept to them. Maybe Emma could have a word with her, then again I supposed it really wasn’t any of our business.

  Dan helped Laura mount and, despite my reservations, kept his hands to himself.

  ‘Anywhere particular you want to go?’ he asked as we trotted out of the yard and onto the track leading to the fields and forest beyond.

  Laura gave me a sideways glance. I took the hint. ‘Er, Miss Simmons saw a fire burning in the woodland last night and we thought we’d go and take a look,’ I said.

  Dan frowned my way and then at Laura. ‘Whereabouts?’

  When she lifted her hand to point, I wasn’t surprised it was in the direction of the clearing where Oliver had allegedly died.

  ‘Could possibly be a vagrant,’ he said. ‘We do get the occasional drifter setting up camp.’

  ‘I thought the security was tight,’ I said.

  He laughed at that. ‘How do you secure a boundary this huge?’ he said. ‘It would take a full-time army of men.’

  It was much as I’d surmised and didn’t make me feel any happier. My earlier disquiet wrapped itself around me like a shroud. I doubted the fire Laura had seen would be anything to do with a vagabond.

  As it happened it was very difficult to remain morose in Dan’s company for long. He had the Irish gift of the gab and an irreverent sense of humour that had my spirits lifting as we ambled along, this was until we reached the woodland. Dan took us along a different track to the one Donald Walters had shown us. It was wider and more accommodating for the horses. Even so, like before, as soon as we entered the trees the oppressive atmosphere closed in around us. I soon realised it wasn’t only me who noticed, even Dan’s constant banter stuttered into silence.

  I glanced Laura’s way and saw her shiver. ‘Was it somewhere in here they found my grandfather?’ she asked.

  ‘Ahead a-ways,’ Dan said. ‘In the direction you thought you saw a fire.’

  ‘Why would someone bring him all the way out here to murder him?’

  ‘Maybe he ran,’ I said, remembering his frantic dash for life through the undergrowth as I had seen it in my vision, though this was something I could never tell her. I doubted she’d believe me if I did.

  We carried on in silence, the only sound being the occasional creak of a tree or the horses’ puffing and snorting and the clump of their hooves upon dirt. Above us there was a rustle of leaves as they were caught in a breeze and with it came the scent of smoke and burnt wood.

  Dan was slightly ahead, with us following behind. Ever since entering the forest Laura had pulled in next to me and we were so close now our knees were practically touching. If I was uneasy, she was even more so.

  Dan glanced back at us. ‘Can you smell that?’<
br />
  I nodded. ‘Smells like there has been a bonfire,’ I said.

  ‘Have you been here before?’ Laura asked me in a whisper.

  I leant towards her. ‘Once with Simon and Donald Walters, and later Emma and I came on our own.’

  ‘Is it …?’ She shuddered.

  ‘There’s nothing so you’d know what happened,’ I reassured her. ‘Just a clearing and some strands of police tape.’

  The aroma of smoke was getting stronger and after about another twenty yards or so I caught a glimpse of blue and white plastic hanging in broken strands and then we were following Dan into the clearing.

  ‘Well, I’ll be damned,’ I heard him mutter as he slid down from Satan. The horse stomped his huge hooves and snorted. He didn’t like it here any more than we did and Jericho soon joined him in whinnying and shaking his head.

  I climbed down and stroked the creature’s huge muzzle. ‘Good boy,’ I murmured as I looked around.

  There hadn’t been only one bonfire. Five small ones formed a circle around the periphery of the clearing with the main fire in the middle. All except the one in the centre had burnt to blackened ashes and scorched earth. Lines had been scratched into the dirt joining each of the five outer fires. Someone had tried to scuff them out, but even a fool could see they formed a five-pointed star. I wasn’t sure why I was surprised. As much as I might not believe in Satanism and the like, these people apparently did – or they were playing like they did.

  ‘What’s that?’ Laura said, pointing to what remained of the fire in the centre of the clearing. ‘There’s something in the ashes.’ She gasped. ‘God! It looks like a body.’

  ‘Stay there,’ I told her.

  Dan started towards it with me following. This fire had been far bigger than the others and perhaps this was why it hadn’t completely burnt away. Thankfully, whatever had been burnt in the fire, it wasn’t a body. Burnt flesh had a distinctive aroma and once smelt you never forgot it.

  ‘What the f—?’ Dan grabbed a partially burnt stick from the edge of the fire and poked at what appeared to be a bundle of clothing. ‘Aww, this is a bit sick,’ he said, lifting it out of the ashes.

  ‘What is it?’ Laura asked as she slid down off Angel.

  ‘It’s a Guy – you know like you have on Fireworks Night,’ Dan said as he managed to swing it out of the pile of burnt wood and dropped it at our feet. ‘Someone’s gone to a lot of trouble. It’s got hair and everything.’

  Laura gave a sort of strangled gasp. I glanced at her. She had a hand to her mouth and the colour had slid from her face. I looked back at the effigy bewildered by her reaction.

  ‘Ah shit,’ I said as Dan, apparently completely oblivious to Laura’s distress, flipped the thing over onto its back.

  It was wearing a dark wavy-haired wig and a mask, probably printed from a photograph and pasted onto card. It was a woman’s face: the eyes had been blanked out with splodges of dark red paint giving the impression of empty, bloody caverns. The mouth and chin were awash with the same paint and it didn’t take a lot of imagination to guess what this abomination represented. What remained of the silky jade shirt it was wearing, like the face, was vaguely familiar.

  Laura staggered slightly and I grabbed her by the arm to stop her falling. ‘Oh God! It’s me,’ she said. ‘It’s meant to be me.’

  Then I remembered the shirt. Emma had commented on it. It was the one Laura had been wearing to dinner the previous night. To give her credit Laura didn’t launch into hysterics, though she did hang onto my arm, I think mainly to remain upright.

  ‘How could they have got hold of my shirt?’ she murmured as if to herself.

  Dan looked her way from where he was crouched above the effigy. He’d lost his smile. ‘I’d be most interested to know that too,’ he said.

  ‘Can we go back, please?’ she said, her voice trembling.

  ‘Of course,’ I said and, holding her arm, walked her over to Angel. I helped her onto the horse and then, as an afterthought, pulled out my mobile and went back to the centre of the clearing.

  I took a picture of the dummy, the central bonfire and then a few more of the others. Dan watched me, stony-faced. ‘Just in case,’ I said. He nodded. He obviously watched the same TV programmes as me.

  We rode back to the house in near silence. I didn’t want to say anything in front of Laura, but if I had been worried about her coming here before, now I was seriously concerned. Was she being warned off or was it a promise? I was already considering riding straight back to the clearing to have a poke around and see if I could pick up on anything after making sure she was safely inside.

  Then I wasn’t.

  A feeling of dread washed over me in a wave, driving any other thoughts straight out of my head. ‘Emma?’

  ‘What?’ Dan asked.

  ‘It’s Emma,’ I said, not caring what he thought. ‘She’s in trouble,’ and I urged Jericho forward and into a gallop.

  I heard Dan call after me, but I couldn’t stop. Something terrible had happened or was about to happen to Emms. I had to pray it was the latter and I’d get there in time. Jericho raced along the track, head down, ears back, maybe sensing my fear, and then I could see the courtyard at the back of the house. There was a towel lying on one of the sunbeds with Emma’s book and some clothing, but no Emma.

  A wave of panic swept through me and, for a split second, I was drowning. The pool. Emma was in that fucking pool.

  I swerved off the track, pounding across the beautiful lawns. I didn’t have time to worry about a disgruntled gardener. I pulled Jericho to a halt as we clattered into the courtyard and practically fell off him in my hurry to get inside. I ran towards the conservatory, ripping off my jacket as I went. I was vaguely aware of the sound of more hooves clattering across the paving stones and then the thud of feet behind me.

  I grappled with the door to the conservatory – for a terrible few moments I thought it was locked – and then I had it open and was running towards the pool. In the sunlight the water could have been ink-black and alive. It was heaving and frothing and foaming. I hauled off my boots and, without a second thought, dived straight in.

  As soon as my head entered the water I saw her: a young woman’s face looming in front of mine, filling my vision. A girl of about eighteen, her long, dark hair flowing around her dead, white face like black tendrils of seaweed. She reached out to me, her eyes huge and imploring. Imploring for what? I didn’t have time for her now. I swam straight through the apparition, forcing myself down and down. The dark tiles making it appear as black as night down there and then I saw a flash of white amongst the boiling water – Emma.

  She was thrashing and fighting and straining to swim to the surface, but something was holding her back. The spirits of the dead obviously weren’t constricted by time and space, because as I drew closer a dark shape began to become clear: the young woman, clinging onto Emma’s ankles and dragging her down. No, another woman, older, her hair long and bleached almost white. I had to get to Emma. I had to get her free. Emma’s movements were getting weaker and weaker. Her hands flapping ineffectually against the water.

  I swam at the wraith, too afraid of what she was doing to Emma to be scared for myself. I swiped at her, my hands passing through her body as if she was smoke, but it was enough, or was it she’d had her fun? She faded away, letting Emma go, to slowly float towards the surface, arms and legs outstretched and lifeless.

  ‘No!’ and inside my head I heard a woman’s cruel, echoing laughter.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  I thrashed towards the surface and felt the water heave as someone else jumped in. When my head broke the water Dan was pulling Emma to the side of the pool. Laura grabbed her arms, holding her head above the surface as Dan hauled himself out, then Emma, and immediately started CPR.

  I don’t remember getting out of the pool or dropping on my knees beside her. I don’t remember taking her hand. All I can remember is the despair. I might have cried, I might h
ave prayed – I suspect I did both.

  Then she convulsed and rolled onto her side heaving and throwing up what appeared to be gallons of water, certainly it looked as though there was more than she could possibly have breathed in. But she was alive, and then she was in my arms and I was holding her tight and thanking God for not taking her so soon.

  Emma didn’t want to see a doctor. I insisted she did. I was going to call for the paramedics, but Mrs Walters assured me it would be quicker to get the family doctor to come and see her. She was probably right; he arrived within fifteen minutes.

  Doctor Bell was an elderly gentleman and every bit the old-fashioned family doctor you would expect to see in period dramas. White-haired and portly, he was dressed in a black three-piece suit and exuded a jolly bedside manner.

  ‘I prescribe an afternoon’s bed rest and a lot of TLC,’ he said, with twinkling eyes and Father Christmas ruddy cheeks.

  ‘I suspect I’ll be getting plenty of both,’ she said with a smile, but she sounded tired and was already slipping into sleep by the time I showed the good doctor out.

  He did his best to be reassuring, but seeing my worried expression said, ‘I’ve given her a sedative and some antibiotics to ward off any chest infection, but if she suffers any breathing difficulties or falls into unconsciousness, or you are in any way at all worried about your wife, please call me, but she should be fine after a little rest.’

  I thanked him and he drove off with a friendly wave.

  My first instinct was to hurry upstairs to check on her, but she’d been asleep and it was only fair I should let Donald and Sarah Walters and Dan know how she was faring. I had been truly touched by the couple’s concern and as for Dan – well – he had probably saved Emma’s life. Then I would find Laura. Heaven knows what she was thinking. If it wasn’t for the legacy, I wouldn’t be surprised if she packed her bags and ran for the hills.

  The house was quiet, unnaturally so. It was almost as though the household had gone back into mourning and I had to pause for a second or two to control the emotion welling inside me. I had thought I’d lost her. There was a moment where I really did believe I had lost her, and the image of her very still body floating upwards and away from me passed through my mind.