The Disappearance of Katie Wren

by Cross,Amy

  “I don't understand,” I continue, trying desperately to keep from panicking. “Katie would never -”

  Suddenly I see that one of the photos shows a wide shot of the street, including the building opposite Knott's Court. I freeze as I see that this particular building looks to be in a state of terrible disrepair, with one side already pulled away and the rest held up by scaffolding. Sure enough, a red crane rises high above the place, and I can tell that this is the building that I saw through Katie's bedroom window during our most recent video calls.

  “She's living there,” I whisper.

  “No shit,” Annabelle mutters. “Told you.”

  “She's actually living at Knott's Court.” I stare at the photos for a moment longer, before my trembling hand lets them fall to the ground. “What in the name of all that's holy is she -”

  “Your precious little Katie hasn't necessarily been telling you the truth about everything,” Annabelle replies.

  I shake my head. “She's a good girl. She'd never lie.”

  “She lied about where she is right now,” she points out. “She lied about Tim holding her prisoner while she was missing the first time. She lied about a whole lot of stuff.”

  “Someone must be making her do this,” I stammer, taking a step back. My knees are shaking so much, I think I might collapse at any moment. “She's not a liar. I raised her to always tell the truth.”

  “Maybe you don't know as much about her as you thought you did,” Annabelle continues, as I sit on the window-sill. “Since the start of this, we've been assuming that Katie's the victim, that she's an innocent little country mouse who came to the big city and got kidnapped. Well, what if we've got that all arse over tit? What if Katie came to London specifically because of something at Knott's Court? What if she wants to be caught up in whatever's going on there?”

  I shake my head.

  “What if she lied about going to that school?” Annabelle continues.

  “No, she'd never do that.”

  “What if, when she was supposedly rescued from Tim's basement, she was in on the lie all along? What if she knew she had to go home with you for a while, and she was planning to head back to London once she'd waited a suitable period of time for things to cool off?”

  Again, I shake my head.

  “You didn't look at all the photos,” she continues, crouching down and gathering them up. She sorts through the various pictures for a moment, before staring at one and then passing it to me. “I'm gonna take a wild guess and assume that you recognize these two ladies.”

  As soon as I take the picture, I feel my blood run cold. The image shows the two girls who were talking to Katie in the street in Shropley. The same two girls who were shot by poor Joe O'Brien.

  “Monica Dellingham and Patricia Simmons,” Annabelle explains. “Save the explanation, I already know they were killed by shotgun blasts. Monica had her chest blown out and by all accounts there wasn't much left of Patricia's head. That's sad n'all, blah blah, but I'm more interested in the fact that they were in Shropley at all.”

  “They work at Knott's Court, don't they?” I whisper.

  “They do a little more than work there, Winnie. I've carried out a lot more research since the last time we spoke, and I've made some breakthroughs. Monica and Patricia just so happen to have been members of a pretty nasty cult that has its roots slap-bang in the heart of Knott's Court. They were in it up to their eyeballs, and it must have taken something pretty major for them to hit the road and go to Shropley. Almost as if they were protecting an asset.”

  I stare at the photo for a moment longer, before turning to her. “An asset?”

  “What do you want from me?” she asks.

  I open my mouth to reply, but I'm not quite sure what to say.

  “Do you want my help?” she continues. “Is that it? 'Cause I've got my own plans, so helping you means going out of my way. It also means taking a hell of a risk.”

  “I'm desperate,” I tell her. “I've got nowhere else to turn.”

  “And you're actually gonna listen to me this time?”

  “I promise.”

  She checks her watch before getting to her feet. “I guess it's not too early. There's something you need to know about, Winnie. And I've got a feeling you won't believe it unless you see it. Fortunately, I've got proof. Your precious little Katie is mixed up in something very dark, very dangerous, and very, very old. And she's been lying her face off, right from the start.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  The Kingdom

  “I'm not happy,” Bob says with a scowl, as we sit in a corner of the crowded pub. “They closed my department and discontinued my work. They took all my relics and my research, save for a few scraps I managed to smuggle out through the back door. Bunch of goddamn barbarians!”

  “Bob lost his job,” Annabelle explains. “The timing's definitely not a coincidence, either. His work was tolerated for a while, but he was shut down as soon as it was felt that ranks needed to be closed. Frankly, I'm amazed he was allowed to keep going for so long, but I guess he was seen as most harmless and irrelevant.”

  “Thanks for that,” Bob says darkly. “Harmless and irrelevant. Nice!”

  “At least they didn't kill you,” she tells him. “Yet.”

  “Again. Thanks a bunch.”

  “You know I love you really,” Annabelle continues, putting an arm around his shoulder and giving him a hug. “One day, you're gonna get all that stuff back. All your relics, all your items, all your paperwork, all your files. And that's a promise! One day these fuckers are gonna be all out of luck and power.”

  “You can't promise me anything,” he says with a sigh, before sliding some print-outs toward me. “I finally identified the symbols on your daughter's wall, and I can't pretend I'm entirely surprised by what I found. They're from an ancient sect that was recorded as having existed around the year 300 A.D. They were referred to in various contemporary texts as the Cult of Hiirux, although not much else is known about them. Some historians think they were involved in the fall of the Kush, but that's mostly speculation and personally I don't put much stock in those theories. There's also evidence to suggest they were at least known as far afield as Egypt and Rome.”

  “I've never heard of them,” I tell him.

  “Of course not. Almost nobody has, that's the point. Around the time of the fall of Kush, the Cult of Hiirux vanished completely. In fact, it's rather neat how they managed to remove most mentions of themselves from the records. Some historians have even claimed that the Cult of Hiirux was behind the destruction of the great library at Alexandria, although that's a controversial idea since it would have had to have occurred later than is generally believed. It's certainly possible that information about the Cult of Hiirux was guarded at the Serapeum, and that that's what caused the final destruction of the last part of the great library. One other interesting idea was proposed in 2007 by Doctor -”

  “I think that's enough history,” Annabelle says, interrupting him. “The point is, this Cult of Hiirux intentionally disappeared. Most cults of that period were crushed or otherwise destroyed by outside forces, but the Cult of Hiirux seems to have decided to shut up shop for a while. One of the prevailing theories is that they realized they'd misjudged a crucial date, and they figured they might as well disband until that date arrived.”

  “October 31st,” Bob adds.

  “What year?” I ask.

  “What year do you think?” he continues. “This year!”

  “That's when the Cult of Hiirux believed the age of chaos would begin,” Annabelle explains. “Now before you say it, let's get one thing out of the way. These people were fucking lunatics. Child-murdering, woman-sacrificing, blood-drinking lunatics. That guy who was fished from the Thames with a goat's head sewn onto his neck? Classic Cult of Hiirux. He must have been an offering. Bob has begun to look into the whole thing a little more, and he's found -”

  “They laid low,” Bob says, inte
rrupting her. “They left behind a succession of guardians, most likely members of the same family throughout history, to keep their sacred texts safe until the year of the cataclysm approached. I guess the instructions were probably to start gearing everything up at some point in the late twentieth century, which would coincide with the change of ownership at Knott's Court. In the meantime, tremendous favor had been acquired among the rich and powerful of this country, meaning that the Cult of Hiirux was able to re-emerge from hibernation and resume its wait for all the fireworks to go off.”

  “This is too much to believe,” I tell them. “Ancient cults, some kind of -”

  “Are you still doubting me?” Annabelle asks firmly. “Seriously?”

  I open my mouth to argue with her, before realizing that there's no point.

  “The Cult of Hiirux needed to bring their god back,” Bob continues, “and for that, they needed an earthly vessel. A body. It's not exactly a new concept. They wanted their god to walk among them, so they figured they had to find a suitable host.”

  “A child,” Annabelle points out. “The Cult of Hiirux worshiped women, in particular. Winnie, have you seen anything over the past few months since she came home to suggest that Katie might be pregnant?”

  “Absolutely not!” I say firmly, horrified by the suggestion.

  “Keep your knickers on. I'm only asking 'cause it'd make sense. Then again, maybe Katie's the child. She could be young enough.”

  “The Cult of Hiirux is said to have sought a child,” Bob explains, “in the period before the final date. They literally wanted their god Hiirux to pour himself into the child so that he could prance around down here among us mere mortals. Not that he supposedly hadn't done that already, but they wanted to tie him to a body so that all this chaos could begin.”

  “And that body is supposed to be my daughter?” I ask incredulously. “Please, you have to -”

  “Ravens,” Bob adds.

  I hesitate for a moment. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Crows, black birds.” He pauses. “You seen anything like that around?”

  I glance at Annabelle, and then back to Bob. “Maybe,” I whisper.

  “Ravens and crows are said to be the harbingers,” he continues. “The Cult of Hiirux believed that black birds would recognize the child first. The birds would try to destroy the child.”

  “The birds were said to be too pure to let the child live,” Annabelle continues, as a passing customer bumps against our table. “But, you know, birds are birds. They're not exactly an effective army. They could've killed the child when it was just a baby, but the cult believed the kid would only make itself known once it became an adult. The birds were supposed to be the last line of defense, but I doubt they could do much.” She pauses, eyeing me with suspicion for a moment. “And judging from that look on your face, Winnie,” she adds finally, “I think all this talk of black birds has hit a nerve.”

  “This is nonsense,” I stammer. “My Katie is a -”

  “Liar!” she hisses. “Your Katie is a liar, and that's already beyond doubt! The only question is why she's been lying to you! Now, you can continue to kid yourself that she's all sweet and innocent, or you can get with the program and accept that she needs some serious rescuing. And these assholes at Knott's Court, with all their connections to the highest powers in the land, need to be brought crashing down and exposed. I promised Harry on his deathbed that that's what I'd do, and I don't break my promises.”

  “Yes you do,” Bob mutters. “All the time.”

  “Not the important ones!”

  “You've promised to get my job back for me. Is that an important one?”

  “Sure it is, Bob,” she replies, keeping her eyes fixed on me. “Sure it is. But right now, Katie is willingly at Knott's Court, and I think we have to assume that she's happy to let them use her for whatever sick plans they've drawn up. I'd stake the house on her being used to call out to this Hiirux god, and that means the folks at Knott's Court will do anything to keep her under their thumb. Obviously the stuff about Hiirux is a load of bollocks, but they believe it and they're dangerous.”

  “We have to call the police,” I tell her. “We -”

  “Are you high?” she hisses, her eyes widening with shock. “Would that be the same police who colluded in the frame-up job that sent Tim to jail? Seriously? Are you out of your fucking mind? Going to the police would just be tipping the bastards off about our plans!”

  “But what you're talking about is -”

  “Real!” she says firmly. “All of it! I mean, the historical part. Obviously the part about these wackos bringing back some ancient god is a load of rubbish, 'cause the three of us all know that stuff like that doesn't exist. But these people have money and time and connections, so they can keep kidding themselves and killing people for a good while longer. They'll use Katie, then they'll toss her aside and try with someone else.”

  I put my head in my hands for a moment, feeling as if this wave of information is too much.

  “Winnie?” Annabelle says cautiously, placing a hand on my arm. “Are you okay?”

  “Katie wouldn't do this,” I reply, with tears in my eyes. “When her father died, I had to raise her alone. She was only six months old when the accident happened, and since then it's been just me and her. I was so scared, so convinced that I wouldn't be able to look after her, but somehow I muddled through. I even started to think that maybe I was doing a good job, but look at us now. I failed her. I'm just an old fool and I failed my daughter, and now she's wrapped up in something perfectly awful.”

  “You can't blame yourself,” Annabelle tells me.

  “I'm her mother!”

  “That still doesn't mean it's your fault.”

  “She's right,” Bob adds. “Intelligence is essentially fixed at birth. If your daughter is stupid enough to fall for all this garbage, then -”

  “Go get us some more drinks, Bob,” Annabelle says suddenly.

  “I'm just saying, there's no particular reason why Katie in particular would have been -”

  “Give us a moment!” Annabelle says firmly.

  Sighing, Bob gets to his feet and starts pushing his way to the bar.

  “Ignore him,” Annabelle continues. “He's not exactly a people-person. And I say that as someone who's not exactly a people-person myself. But he's wrong about Katie needing to be dumb to get sucked into all of this. Maybe she's just looking for something to fill a gap in her life, and she happened to find it with a bunch of weird-ass freaks who think they're on the verge of resurrecting some ancient god. Stranger things have happened.” She pauses for a moment. “How did her father die?”

  “A car accident,” I reply, shuddering as I think back to that day. “She was so young, she doesn't remember anything about it.”

  “And you never remarried?”

  I shake my head.

  “Never even had another boyfriend? A bit on the side?”

  I shudder at the mere thought of such a thing.

  “So maybe that's all mixed up in it,” she continues. “I don't know Katie, so I don't know how her head works. But nobody in the whole world is perfect, everyone has a crack here and there, and maybe this is Katie's crack. Every single person on this planet feels like they have something missing. It's not your fault if Katie allowed her head to get turned by whatever's going on at Knott's Court, but it is your fault if you refuse to accept the truth. She's there, Winnie, and we have to get her back. And seeing as we both know that the whole resurrection thing is a big bag of balls, I think that maybe for the very first time you and I are in complete agreement. Aren't we?”

  Turning to her, I see that she's holding a hand out for me to shake.

  “She can't stay there,” I tell her.

  “Hell no.”

  “I have to get her back.”

  “And you will.”

  “And I have to protect her.”

  “We'll find a way.”

  I pause, before cautio
usly shaking her hand.

  “And you can write the story after we're done,” I tell her. “Maybe with the names changed, but -”

  “Don't worry about that,” she replies, interrupting me. “The important thing is bringing Knott's Court crumbling to the ground. And if I can do that, I'll have a huge story that goes to the heart of the British establishment. I can tell it without mentioning Katie at all. To save you the embarrassment.”

  “But how do we get her out?” I ask, wiping tears from my eyes. “It's not as if we can just walk up to the front door and knock.”

  “Of course we can,” she continues, with a faint smile. “This isn't a cartoon. We don't have to abandon a plan just 'cause it doesn't work the first time. You got into at least one room before, just by knocking on the door. We'll tweak that plan and try again. And at least now we know that Katie probably isn't being held captive. She's there because she wants to be.”

  “So I'm supposed to just walk in there and ask for my daughter back?”

  “Sure. They won't give her to you, but you have to ask. It's only polite.” She pauses for a moment, as if an idea is slowly starting to form in her mind. “And that'll be when we switch to our main plan. I know how to get Katie out of there. It's just gonna require some serious balls.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  The Front Door

  “Wow,” Annabelle whispers a couple of hours later, as the doorman steps aside to let us through the front door at Knott's Court, “this house is pretty smart. I feel like I'm cheapening the place just by being here.”

  Stepping into the hallway, I make my way to the double-doors that lead into the reception room. Nothing has changed since my last visit, and I can't help feeling as if somehow the people of Knott's Court have been waiting for me to return. The doorman certainly offered no resistance when I said I wanted to come inside and speak to someone about my daughter, and a moment later a maid comes through with a tray of tea and biscuits. I watch as she starts setting everything out on a table by the window, and then I hear a bump nearby.