Bitter Moon
Page 35
Eventually, the mass of insects simply wore him down and it became more and more difficult to pick out Kohl’s shape. One second he was there, then he blurred and was lost momentarily before slowly materialising again.
At the last, he seemed to stand firm, drawing a hand across his face, scraping away a handful of insects to reveal a single, clear eye. Then the detail was gone, his features shifting, thickening before finally becoming subsumed by the tumescent mass. The whole thing shifted then, becoming something other. It was like watching a wind whipped sand dune under passing summer skies.
A deeply organic grating sound drew our attention, causing us all to look over into the corner of the room. A solid portion of the wall had swung open to reveal a hidden doorway.
Lit from within, it highlighted a figure standing just inside the chapel.
By this stage, the mound of insects on the altar had achieved critical mass and, as the weight of those on the top became too much for those underneath to support, they fell away in great black cakes which immediately broke up. We watched as the insects gusted about the room performing loops and whorls in a dizzying display before whipping past the assembled women and out through the door.
Slowly, the black foam of the altar began to shrink, flaking away into shapeless heaps. Eventually, nothing remained of either Kohl or the demon. The rest of us stood around in shock and bewilderment, unsettled by the sudden turn of events.
I would have expected there to be piles of dead insects scattered about the floor but this appeared not to be the case; with even those crushed underfoot being whipped up in the departing tide. In the end, there was nothing left. All the bodies had been cleared away, leaving the marbled floor and altar surfaces conspicuously clean.
When I looked back over to the door, I saw that the sentry was getting ready to leave.
I didn’t speak about it afterwards because it only lasted for the briefest of moments but nonetheless, I was certain of what I saw. The light from the doorway picked out only part of his face but, in that moment of absolute clarity, I realised I was looking at Carl Hardy.
As the last of the insects blew through the door in a disorganised flurry, he turned his back, pulling the vault-like door behind him.
As it closed for the last time, the sound of it made me think of vast teeth grinding together.
The noise reverberated right the way across the city. A million Romans sat up straight in their beds, certain that this was the earthquake that the capital had been anticipating for years. But, while its after-shocks were felt for some time, when the people went to their windows and saw that the street-lights were still on, no buildings had collapsed and no cars had been crushed, eventually they crawled back into their beds and hoped for sleep.
Once it was over, the Novices rushed to re-light the candles. They were eager for a distraction after everything that had happened. I went across to try and find the hidden doorway but I was to be disappointed. Despite my best efforts, I could find no trace of it.
Kinsella sat on one of the benches, his head in his hands. The women tried their best to speak with him, to congratulate him on what he’d done but he was too exhausted to care.
No one wanted to look at the broken figure of Archbishop Castellano as he moved about the chapel. He visited each corner in turn, holding a candle high as he surveyed the chaos. As he went he paused to examine every item: a discarded book, an over-turned chair, a charred section of tapestry.
All the time calling: “Andreas? Andreas?”
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
I sat in the shade of the lime trees watching the women playing croquet.
I didn’t understand the rules but, then again, apparently, neither did they. They were just enjoying hitting the ball as hard as they could.
There seemed to be a lot of cheating going on.
There was also a lot of laughter.
It was late in the afternoon but was still pleasantly warm.
A fresh breeze picked up and I found that I could smell the roses in the beds along the drive. A thick, heavy scent which unsettled me in ways I couldn’t quite determine.
In the background, a dog was barking.
Carlotta approached across the grass. When one of the croquet balls bounced in her direction, she casually kicked it back. Two of the women ran for the ball, mallets swinging. One of them fell over, feigning injury.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“I was just wondering if it was too early for a drink.”
“Never too early.” Carlotta flopped down in the lounger beside me, “I’ll get you one in a minute.”
“What have you been up to?”
“Canoeing mostly. Some of them are quite good.”
“You must be tired.”
“Ready for my dinner. Did you speak to your dad?”
“He’s fine. There’s some steam rally going on this weekend so he’s sorted.”
“Good.”
I sat up at the sound of ice tinkling against glass.
Amir appeared with a tray of drinks and a big pitcher of Pimms.
“With the compliments of the house.”
Carlotta helped me pull out a wooden side table and we placed the drinks on that.
“I’ll just get another chair.”
Amir came back with a wad of napkins and a straight-backed chair that looked like it came from the dining room. He waited until Helena joined us, walking heavily on her stick, and then he left us. She positioned herself in front of the chair, resting her weight on the stick before dropping back down. She landed awkwardly on the seat and Carlotta and I both looked away while she adjusted herself.
Helena looked the best I’d seen her in a while. She’d got some sun on her face and arms and was exuding a tranquil sense of well-being. She had some difficulty balancing her stick against the side of the chair. Eventually, it slipped over and landed in the grass where she left it.
“Would someone kindly pour me a drink?” she looked at Carlotta.
Carlotta let out a heavy sigh and pushed herself up off her recliner. She poured drinks for all of us.
“Are you supposed to be drinking on your meds?” I asked Helena.
She took a sip and pulled a face, rested the glass on her thigh.
“Not really but I thought we might celebrate.”
“What?” I said. “Has the Pope rung to apologise?”
Helena waved a hand. “Not so far, but give it time. No, I’ve signed the documents. It’s all official. We have the run of the entire estate.”
Carlotta considered this with her hands on her hips. “What? So have the lawyers already been, then?”
“They only wanted a couple of signatures from me. Just a formality really. Only took a couple of minutes.”
Carlotta turned first to me and then back to Helena.
“But, don’t I have to sign something on behalf of the family?”
Helena took another sip of her drink. She didn’t appear to be enjoying it.
“Your mother took care of all that before she went away. Don’t worry, there’s nothing permanent. Only now we’re official tenants.”
Carlotta sat back down. She didn’t look happy. “What about witnesses?”
“Amir was there. I didn’t see any reason to disturb you. Besides, no one knew where you were.”
“I was down by the lake,” she said sulkily.
A gust of wind caught the napkins and lifted them into the air. I tried to grab one and missed.
“Leave them,” Helena said. “Amir can pick them up. I don’t know what he was thinking bringing napkins out here in the first place.”
“So,” I said. “What did you decide to call it in the end? On the documents. Lawson’s School for Abandoned Witches?”
“Not quite. The Lawson Academy. I think that might raise fewer eyebrows.”
Carlotta said, “Sounds rather dull.”
“After everything that’s happened, I could do with a period of ‘dullness,’” she turn
ed to me. “And what about you? Have you considered my offer?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t think I’m cut out for teaching.”
“You won’t know until you try.”
It was a tempting offer and part of me would have happily jumped at the chance, but I had too many other issues I needed to resolve. With the Bear Garden under investigation and all activity suspended there was no obvious role for me in London. My salary was still being paid every month but that couldn’t continue. Millie was recovering well but had gone to live with her parents in the short term. I wasn’t even sure that we’d be able to keep the flat on.
“What are you thinking?” Carlotta said.
“I was thinking that I should at least go and visit Marcus.”
Carlotta patted my hand. “You sure you’re up to it? It’s not like he’s going to notice.”
“Isn’t he still on life support?” Angela asked bluntly.
Carlotta and I looked at one another.
Angela reached down to retrieve her stick, bracing herself with her good foot. The chair teetered slightly but she managed it. She was a lot stronger now. A month earlier she would have tipped over.
Carlotta said, “I know you feel guilty about what happened to Marcus but you need to think about what’s best for you.”
So I did just that. I eased back in the lounger, grabbed the wooden arms and pushed myself to my feet.
“You’re right. What’s best for me.”
I started back towards the house. Once I was out in the warm, flat sunlight, I felt much calmer.
Behind me, I heard Angela inquire in that slightly-too-loud voice of hers, “Where’s she off to then?”
“Silas. Where d’you think?”
I hope you enjoyed Bitter Moon. Please continue to follow Bronte’s adventures in the next instalment of the Urban Witch Series. If you’d like to leave a review I’d very much appreciate your feedback.
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