by Amy Cross
“I didn't use his ax,” I tell her. “I didn't get a chance. I used my sword instead.”
She stares in horror at the sword by my side.
“Relax,” I continue. “This sword is better than any other weapon in the whole of England. It went straight through his heart and out the other side.”
“But you didn't use the ax to kill him?”
“Kate -”
“I told you to use the ax!” she hisses, her sense of calm suddenly replaced by anger. “I told you over and over, you had to use the ax!”
“What difference does it really make?” I ask. “He's dead.”
“That's not the point!” She stares at me for a moment, as if she's genuinely horrified by what I'm telling her. “When I established the blood link, I made it easier for you to find him, but there were certain conditions that had to be attached! One was that you had to kill him with his own weapon!”
“Fine,” I mutter, getting to my feet. “You know what? I'll go back and drag his corpse out of the water, and then I'll find the ax and use it to hack him into pieces. Will that make you happy?”
“It doesn't matter now,” she replies. “He's already dead, anything you do to him now is irrelevant.”
“I'll still go and do it,” I continue, turning to walk away. “It might make me feel better to mutilate his corpse.”
“No!” Grabbing my arm, she pulls me back. “You mustn't go anywhere near his final resting place, or the blood bond will bring him back!”
I turn to her. “What kind of superstitious nonsense are you on about now?”
“If he senses your blood nearby,” she continues, her eyes filled with fear, “he might rise again, and then I don't know how he could be stopped! You must leave this area and never come back, and you must ensure that your children also stay away, and your children's children and -”
“Nykolas Freeman is dead!” I hiss, slipping free of her grasp. “Don't you get that? The man is dead! He's gone! There's no way he's coming back!”
“You have no idea what you've done,” she replies, stepping back from me. “You had a chance to end his reign of terror, and instead you might have made him dangerous beyond the bounds of life itself! You must keep away from this part of the country forever, do you understand? Promise me you'll leave immediately and never return!”
Staring at her, I realize that while I was almost ready to believe all her talk about curses and witchcraft, the truth is simpler. She's just a charlatan, one of the many women who roam this country and claim to have mastered the dark arts, which means there's no point even trying to reason with her. I can't help but smile as I turn and head to the gap in the wall, and then out into the field. “Don't worry about me,” I call back to her. “Do you seriously think that I'd ever want to come back to this depraved place anyway? I'm returning to London to make a name for myself, and I can assure you neither I nor any member of my family for the rest of time will ever be desperate enough to come anywhere near Wyvern.”
“I pray that you're right,” she replies, as drops of rain start falling all around us. “Do you feel that?” she continues. “Have you noticed how cold the rain is lately? That's a sure sign that war is coming, but not the kind of war that erupts between nations. I told you the truth before. This will be a war between neighbors, maybe not this year, maybe not for a decade or two, but it will come. Nykolas Freeman was just an early warning of the darkness that is spreading across this land.”
“That man killed my sister,” I snap, turning to her, suddenly feeling as if she's making light of the situation with her ridiculous claims. “He didn't just kill her, either, he tortured her!” I look over at the fresh grave nearby. “I don't even need to come back to visit her. I'd rather remember her as she was in happier times, before that monster took her life.” I pause for a moment, trying to think of those days; instead, all I can see in my mind's eye is Rosie's burned body nailed to a wooden pole, and I swear I can still feel my fingers sinking into her putrid flesh as I pulled her down. I guess it'll take time to put that part of the story out of my mind, but I'll manage. “Let Freeman rot,” I continue, turning back to Kate. “Let his name be -”
Seeing that she's gone, I look around, but there's no sign of her anywhere. I'd have heard if the church door had been opened, so I guess she must simply have slipped away.
“Damn this place,” I mutter, turning and heading across the field, aiming to meet the road to London and walk home. No member of my family will ever bring our blood back to this infernal part of the world. Nykolas Freeman is dead, and that's all that matters. Now he can be forgotten, just like the rest of the dead. Anything else is superstitious rubbish.
As the icy rain continues to fall, I hurry toward the edge of the forest and, after stopping to pick some chanterelle mushrooms in a clearing near the lake, I set off toward the main road that will lead me home. I'm certain Kate was wrong, that there's no chance of a civil war breaking out, but if there is, there's surely nothing I can do to stop it. I killed Freeman. That was my role in all of this, and now it is done. That most foul of men is gone forever.
Chapter Twenty-three
Laura
“I had no idea there'd be so much,” Mum says as she helps me carry several large bags out through the hospital's side door. “Do you really need it all?”
“You're the one who brought it in for me,” I point out, letting the door swing shut and then glancing at a sign on the nearby wall:
Wyvern Lodge Hospital
Psychiatric Ward
I remember the day six months ago when I was brought here, strapped to a trolley and screaming about Nykolas Freeman.“I can't believe I'm finally getting out,” I mutter finally. “There were times when I thought...” I pause for a moment, before turning to her and seeing the tears in her eyes. “Especially at the start, there were some nights when I thought I'd be in here for the rest of my life. I used to literally feel him breathing on my neck. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw -”
“Let's not talk about it,” she replies, forcing a smile. “The past is the past.”
“But -”
“The past is the past,” she says again. “Laura, please...”
“But I want to talk about it,” I tell her. “I know no-one believed me, I know I'd still be in there if I hadn't pretended to agree with them, but...” I take a deep breath, feeling a knot of fear in my belly. After six months on a psychiatric ward, I finally told the doctors what they wanted to hear and said I'd imagined the whole thing with Nykolas Freeman. They were so relieved, they couldn't wait to declare me cured and get me signed out, but the truth is... I know that everything I experienced was real. I just don't see the need to persuade anyone, not anymore, not now that it's all over. Then again, there's still a part of me that worries about being out, just in case he comes back. “I should go back,” I say finally, turning toward the door. “I'm not better. I lied to them.”
“Sweetheart,” she replies, putting a hand on my shoulder to stop me, “please... Come home.”
I pause, still reaching out for the handle. “Back to the house?” I ask cautiously.
“It's just a house.”
I turn to her. “You don't believe me either.”
“I believe...” She sighs. “I believe you've been through a lot. When I think back to that morning when your uncle and I got home and found you on the back steps with Suzie... The way you were shivering and rambling on about some undead priest hunter who'd attacked you in the church, I honestly thought you'd taken drugs, I thought maybe some of the mushrooms from the forest had turned out to be hallucinogens.” She takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. “I spoke to your doctors this morning, and they're convinced that whatever happened to you, it's over. They said you've not been having nightmares anymore, even after they reduced your medications. Honestly, Doctor Carlisle said he's never known someone make such a big improvement. As for the house... It's just a house, sweetie. There's nothing that goes bump in the night and there are
no hidden secrets behind the walls. Plus, with the bookings I've got lined up, the place is going to be packed with guests.” She squeezes my hand tighter. “Just a house.”
I nod. She's right, even if I'm going to have to work hard to keep from panicking when I get to the house. It's either that or spend the rest of my life in a padded cell, and I figure if I'm going to be nuts, I might as well be nuts in the real world.
“And now we know you won't be charged over the damage to the church,” she continues, leading me to the car, “so we can get on with our lives. Suzie's excited to have you back, she's been talking about it all week. She's even been decorating your room for you, although obviously you can change it if you like. Somehow, I'm not sure you're going to like all the pink.”
“It's amazing how she's managed to absorb it all,” I reply, opening the car door and climbing into the passenger seat. “I guess kids are more resilient, huh?” Spotting a brown envelope on the dashboard with my name on the front, I pick it up and slip out some documents. “What's this?”
“Oh, some woman dropped it by for you,” she says, buckling herself into the driver's seat. “She said she met you once. Kate something, I don't remember her exact name. She said that when she heard about what had happened, she did some research into the history of the area and found something pretty interesting.”
“Did she prove that Nykolas Freeman was real?”
“Oh, I think that was already established,” she continues, “but... Well, I wasn't sure whether it'd be good to show you all of this so soon, but the doctors said it was fine. In fact, Doctor Carlisle said it might help to ground you a little, to show you that there's no reason to be scared of the world around you.” She points at some of the lines on the first page. “See there? Four hundred years ago, Nykolas Freeman was killed by a man named David Hodges.”
I nod, quickly scanning the page for more information.
“And the really crazy coincidence,” she adds, pointing to a line at the bottom, “is right there. It turns out that David Hodges was your great great great... Well, many greats removed, but you're directly related to him by blood on your father's side of the family. He was a carpenter by trade, he lived and worked in London for most of his life. Apparently he ended up dying in the English Civil War at Naseby, but he was originally from right around these parts. How's that for a freaky fact?”
I read the line several times over, just to make sure that it really says what I think it says.
“Maybe that was the link,” I whisper. “Maybe that's why it all happened. I was linked to him by blood and I had to finish what he started.”
“Such a small world, really,” Mum continues as she starts the car. “Then again, I suppose we're a pretty small country. If you go back far enough, everyone's probably related to everyone else in some way. Just...” She looks over at me for a moment, as if she's worried. “Don't get too hung up on all of this stuff, okay? The only reason I wanted you to see those documents is that I thought it might settle your mind. I guess you must have found out about the link a long time ago and then forgotten, and it all festered in your memories and then came spewing out once we moved here. Almost as if it was dormant in your subconscious mind. Maybe your father told you once, years -” She pauses. “Well, sorry, I know you don't like talking about him.”
“It's fine,” I reply, leafing through the pages and finding lots of information about my family, stretching back to the 1600s and even further. “I was wrong before. Just because someone's dead, that doesn't mean we should forget about them. In fact, I think I want to get into this stuff a lot more. I want to know more.” I pause, before turning to her. “Do you think it's too late to change my A-level subjects? I could totally study history!”
“Let's not get ahead of ourselves,” she replies as she eases the car out of the parking bay. “I think you've had enough history for now.”
I want to tell her that she's wrong, that it's impossible to know too much about the past, but instead I focus on the documents. There are so many names here, so many leads that I need to follow once I get home and start some proper research. I barely even notice as the car speeds along, taking us home; scooching down further in the seat with my knees on the dashboard, I focus on the old documents as dappled autumn light shines through the car's side window and dances across the pages. For a moment, I feel as if -
“Christ!”
Suddenly Mum slams her feet onto the brake pedal, bringing the car to a screeching halt and jolting me forward until the safety belt snaps into action. Spilling the documents from my hands, I'm about to ask what's wrong when I see that there's a body in the middle of the road up ahead.
“What the hell?” I whisper.
“Do you think...” Mum pauses for a moment, before unbuckling her belt and opening the door on her side. “Oh God, I suppose I have to go and check if they're hurt, don't I?”
I look around at the trees that line either side of the road. Part of me is worried that this is some kind of trap, but it's clear that there's no-one about. I unfasten my belt and open the door on my side.
“I'm coming with you.”
“Laura -”
“Bring your phone,” I add, getting out of the car and making my way past the front until I'm just a few feet from the body. Now that I'm closer, I can see that it's a woman wearing a tracksuit, and I take a few steps around her until I can see her face.
She's dead.
Her eyes are wide open, staring along the road toward the horizon, and her whole body looks to be extremely thin. Frankly, from the look of her, I wouldn't be surprised if she starved to death.
“Do you think she was hit by a car?” Mum asks as she edges closer.
“It looks more like...” I step around a little further, before stopping again. “It looks more like she just collapsed here. She's so thin, it's almost as if she -”
Spotting movement out of the corner of my eye, I turn to see that Mum has picked up a stick from the side of the road and is using it to gently poke the woman's hip.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Checking she's dead.” She pokes her a couple more times, before taking a step back with a shocked expression in her eyes. “Oh God! She really is dead!”
“Call the police,” I tell her.
“Oh God,” she continues, her voice filled with shock. “Oh Laura, oh God, it's an actual dead body!”
“Call the police,” I tell her again, before heading over and taking her phone from her pocket. I unlock the screen and dial 999, and then I wait for someone to pick up. “She looks like she starved to death,” I mutter, before hearing someone answering on the other end of the line.
For the next few minutes, I explain exactly what we've found, and eventually the dispatcher tells me to stay right here and that a police car will be with us as soon as possible. Once the call is over, Mum and I stand next to the body for a little while longer, before I feel a few drops of rain starting to fall on the back of my neck. Looking up, I see that the sky is churning with dark gray clouds.
“Come on,” I say to Mum, taking her by the hand and leading her to the car. “We can't help her now. Let's just wait for the police.”
She's so shocked, I have to help her into the driver's seat, and then I make my way around to the other side. Just as I'm about to get in, however, I wince as I feel more rain on my neck. Holding my hand out, I wait as tiny drops hit my flesh.
This rain feels unnaturally cold. Colder than ice. I don't know why, but it scares me.
Epilogue
“No way!” Tom shouted, opening another beer and quickly putting it to his lips so he could save as much of the fizzing overflow as possible. “Come on, that's totally unbelievable!”
Scott smiled, before glancing over at Sadie. With the campfire having long since fizzled out, she was barely visible in the light of the moon, silhouetted against the night sky. All around them, the bare field spread for miles in every direction.
“What's up?” he
asked after a moment. “Scared of ghost stories?”
“As if,” she replied. “It's just... I mean, at least try to make it believable. If you'd said there was supposed to be one ghost around here, it'd have been spooky. Anyone could believe that there's some lonely dead soul wandering the moors, freaking out the occasional group of campers, but when you said there's a whole army of ghosts...” She took a sip of beer from her bottle. “You pushed it too far.”
“I told you,” Scott continued, sitting up straight, “there was a huge battle right here, right where we're camping, during the English Civil War. Thousands of people died! There was this massive battle between the Roundheads and the Cavaliers. It was Englishmen fighting other Englishmen, how tragic is that? No-one even knows the exact number of casualties.”
“And they're all haunting the place?” she asked.
“Not all of them, just some of them.” He paused, before turning to Tom. “I swear to God, it's true! Why would I lie about something like that?”
“Dunno,” he replied, “maybe to make Sadie nice and scared, so you can cuddle her to sleep?”
“Shut up!” Scott hissed, before turning to Sadie. “Ignore him, your friend's an idiot.”
“I've known that for a long time,” she said, tilting her head back so she could pour the rest of the bottle down her throat. Tossing the bottle aside, she grabbed her phone and swiped her finger across the screen. “Look, everyone knows ghosts aren't real. The point of a ghost story isn't to try to trick people, it's to have a good time, which means sticking to what works. Don't you guys know anything?” She leaned closer to her phone, allowing the screen's green glow to tint her face. “We need tunes to drown out the ghost rubbish. I'm starting to think Stacy was right when she said you're both lame.”
“But -”
Before Scott could finish, Sadie started playing Destiny's Child. “An oldie,” she laughed, getting to her feet and dancing with a fresh bottle of beer in one hand, “but still good. God, I love dancing, I love the way my body feels when I get the rhythm inside, I get all juiced you, you know?” She laughed. “God, you're both hopeless. I hope you guys have good rhythm, 'cause I've gotta tell you both right now, I officially do not hang out with people who can't dance.”
