Burning (Dark Powers Rising Book 1)

by Rebecca Fernfield

  “In Tatley, near the bombed church, St. Augustine’s, the one where there’s only the cross left standing. I can’t remember the name of the road.”

  “I know where that is. Conrad, get Patrick and Clement. We’ll go out now.”

  Conrad nods, his face set grim, then turns and leaves in silence.

  “Let me come dad,” I plead. “I can help. I know Tatley and I can show you where I saw the men.”

  “Edie, those men will be long gone. It’s too dangerous for you. I’m only taking the men with me tonight. I have enough to think about without worrying about you too. Stay here with your mother and Pascha.”

  “But dad!” I’m not going to give up. I have to be able to do more than sit in the house.

  “I understand your frustration, I really do, but you can’t come tonight. We have to find Daniel and Liza, that is what is important now,” he says holding my gaze. “Look,” he adds, changing his tone, “find Robin and Joshua. Patrol within the perimeter until we return. If there’s a new gang in the town they may come sniffing up here.” He hugs me to him and then he’s gone.

  Chapter Six

  “Pascha said I’m to come on patrol with you both. What’s that about?” Joshua asks, clearly unhappy to be given patrolling duties, as he walks towards me. “I’ve done my stint for today and don’t much fancy standing here in the pitch black with nothing but the glow of the stars to keep me warm.”

  “My dad, he said we were to patrol,” I reply. “Daniel and Liza—they’ve gone missing, down in Tatley.”

  “Oh!” he says, processing the news. “It’s dangerous down there. Leo said he’s seen some really dodgy looking blokes recently. All in black, tattoos across their cheeks.”

  I turn in surprise.

  “Why didn’t he tell anyone?”

  “He told me!” he says, defensive.

  “He should have told my dad, or one of the other Protectors.”

  “What? Like you did?” he asks wryly and I realise I’m not the only one who doesn’t want their freedom cutting.

  “Yeah, like I did!” I reply, mumbling, feeling like a hypocrite.

  “What men in black?” Pascha asks as he walks up to us with Robin following.

  “There’s a new gang in the lower town. Real evil looking blokes with beards and tattooed cheeks,” Joshua answers, pulling a bogey man face at Pascha in mock horror.

  “They’re evil,” is my solemn reply.

  “They’re killers more like,” adds Robin.

  “Killers? Way cool!” exclaims Pascha.

  “Hey, no! Not ‘way cool’,” I reprimand. “They’re dangerous.” I’m shocked at his response, but don’t want to scare him and don’t tell him about the boy. “This is no time for joking. Daniel and Liza—they may have been taken by them.”

  “Edie’s right,” adds Robin. “People have been going missing from the other groups too and maybe its these men that are taking them!”

  “But we’re OK here, right?” Pascha asks, looking up to me, uncertainty in his eyes. “I mean we’ve got the fence and we’re right away from the lower town. And we keep quiet.”

  “Yes, we’re OK here,” Robin adds, reassuring. “They don’t know we’re here: not that gang and not the Snatchers. We keep quiet. We stay under the radar so they don’t know we’re here which means we’re safe.”

  “That’s right,” I add in support, wanting to smooth away the anxiety. “Let’s check the back fences first,” I suggest, taking control and move off towards the back of the compound. Behind the houses, a well-worn path divides the strips of earth dug over to grow our vegetables. The slatted wooden panels that once divided each garden now sit nailed together as a blockade against the town, strengthened and patched with found wood and wire. Hawthorns and hornbeams stretch up and over the rotting panels, but slats and crevices gape where eyes, if they found us, could peak through. In the dark of the evening, we move slowly along the pathway listening for the unusual: unrecognised voices and snapping, trodden branches. Tonight, as always, there is nothing but the odd scurry of a scavenging fox or a rat.

  The clink of the iron sounds quietly in the black.

  “Someone’s at the gate!”

  “Quick! Hide.”

  “I can’t see anything from here,” Robin whispers as we creep to the corner of one of the compound houses, hiding ourselves in the shadows. “If we go round the back we’ll come out at the wall near the gates so we can check from there,” he says, taking charge.

  We creep to the back of the houses and along the side of the first compound house, a ten-foot gap between the wall and the fence, overhung with trees from the small woodlands. The ground is moss-rich, thick and spongey, making our creeping noiseless and we approach the gates silently. A crack breaks out into the hush; the sound of brittle wood snapping. We freeze; arms and legs stiffly angled, awkward mannequins frozen in the dark.

  “Someone’s there,” I whisper anxiously to Robin, “on the other side of the wall.”

  “Pascha, go back behind the house!” I order, suddenly fearful for him.

  “But-”

  “Don’t argue with me. Just go,”

  He doesn’t move, instead mouths, ‘I’m staying here’, and jabs his index finger towards the ground.

  The snap of twigs and crackle of frozen leaves sounds out again behind the wall.

  “Joshua!” A forced whisper. “Joshua! Let us in.”

  “It’s Daniel!” I say with relief.

  Joshua steps out with confidence and unbolts the gate, opening to Daniel and behind him Liza.

  “We thought you’d been taken. The Protectors have gone out searching for you.”

  “We couldn’t get back till now. There were Snatchers on the prowl and another gang—men dressed in black.”

  “They seem to have a real problem with the Snatchers!”

  “How so?”

  “There was a fight between the two gangs, but the tattooed ones didn’t just beat the Snatchers, they took them away.”

  I look to Robin, memories of the carpark in our eyes.

  “We saw them too, they ki-”

  “Shh!” Joshua whispers fiercely, “there’s someone else out there.”

  I look out into the blackness beyond the gates. I can’t see anything, but I’m not taking any chances.

  “Lock the gates Josh, quick!”

  “They’re locked,” he says. “I always put the padlock on, but the bolt …” he says as he lurches forward and bends to slide the long metal rod across the bottom of the gates. I stand behind the brick pillar and peer out down the steep road, scanning the dark and overgrown hedgerows. The others are behind the wall now, out of view. Nothing moves. Joshua must have been mistak-

  From the blackness of the hedgerow, at the place where the road bends and begins its steep descent, step the figures of two men, one tall, both walking stiffly, checking about them and listening. I freeze, watching the dark shapes as they stop, lean into one another as they recognise the gate ahead, then step forward.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” Robin whispers next to me.

  “Two men. They’re coming to the gate.”

  Robin pushes against my back, standing tall over me, and peers around the column of bricks.

  “Get back Edie,” he whispers, the anxiety in his voice strong.

  I stand transfixed as the men walk closer, their faces shining pale in the moonlight. A pull on my shoulder and Robin whispers desperate in my ear. “Edie. They’ll see you.” But I can’t move. I’m fixed behind the brick column, watching as they walk slowly towards me, the crunch of gravel beneath their feet louder. At last I can hear their breath and a hand grasps the gate, white knuckles clutching against the rusting black iron. I lean back into the shadows not daring to breathe, desperate for the others to be absolutely still.

  “It’s locked,” a hoarse voice growls in surprise.

  “Yeah? But it’s dark. No one in there,” the other says flatly

  “You re
ckon? Why would it be locked then?”

  “Dunno.”

  Another hand reaches through the bars and grasps the padlock at the end of the thick chain it locks.

  “Must be something worth taking in there. Look at the size of this padlock,” the hoarse voice says, grasping the padlock in his hand. The gates rattle as they’re pushed forward and I imagine a face being pushed up against it, nose sticking through the bars, peering through, seeking us out. Fear grips me tight as I think of the houses he’s staring at. Blacked-out windows peer back at him, but if someone should open their door to visit a neighbour or fill a water barrel! Please, God! Tell them not to move. Keep them safe in their houses.

  “Perhaps.”

  “And it’s bolted—from the inside.”

  My stomach lurches.

  “You reckon there’s someone in there then?”

  “Might be. Why else would it be locked from the inside?”

  “Edie!” Pascha has crept up beside me unnoticed. I raise my finger to my lips and frown at him in a silent ‘hush’.

  “What was that?”

  “What?”

  “Didn’t you hear it?”

  I flatten myself against the wall, pushing my brother gently back, telling him silently to be quiet, desperate that the shadows hide us as the men peer harder into the compound entrance.

  “Let’s come back tomorrow,” the hoarse one whispers.

  “Hah!” the other one grunts, barely audible.

  The lock gives a gentle tack as it is laid back against the iron bars and gravel crunches under their soles as they turn away from the gate. When the sound of their steps quietens, I lean out from the pillar, into the darkness of the road, and watch as they walk light-footed down the hill and out of sight. I draw back horrified, resting my head against the bricks, looking up to the stars, seeing nothing but the silhouettes of the men creeping away from the gate.

  “They’ve gone!” says Joshua, the relief in his voice obvious.

  “Yeah, but they’ve found us,” Robin replies, dismayed.

  “They found us, Edie. What’s going to happen now?”

  “It’s ok, Pascha. We’ll tell Dad and the other Protectors when they get back. They’ll know what to do,” I say, unable to hide the anxiety in my voice, desperate that my father gets back safe.

  Chapter Seven

  I tug mindlessly at the string of yarn unravelling from the stair carpet as I sit waiting for my father to return. The fibres twist around my finger and tighten, cutting off the circulation until my finger throbs red. I pull my finger, letting the yarn unravel slightly, and pop it out of the loop as another neighbour taps at the back door and treads softly onto the kitchen tiles. Pascha kneels at the front door, peering through the letter box into the night and to the gates. Whispers and low muttering fill out kitchen and living room. Once they heard about the men at the gates fear spread quickly through our tiny community. Pascha kneels at the front door, peering out through the letter box.

  “They’re here!” Pascha shouts turning to the hallway. “Dad’s back,” he smiles up to me. The whispering and muttering stops and all heads turn to the door. Liza pushes her way out of the kitchen and runs to open the door all thoughts of hiding away in the quiet and low light of the house gone.

  “Liza! We’ve been looking all night for you!” Conrad rasps, from behind my father, the relief making his voice hoarse. My father smiles in relief and steps aside allowing Conrad to step through and hug Liza close, his beard disappearing into her blonde hair. When he steps back to look at her tears have welled in his eyes. “I thought I’d lost you,” he says as my father pats him on the back and takes in the fullness of the hallway, bemused. He stands for a moment in confusion and then a grimness settles over him as he works his way through the crowd to my mother beckoning from the kitchen, her face serious and deathly pale.

  I can’t hear what they’re saying, separated by the gathered crowd, but he sags and leans in to her, bends to hold her tight, then stands strong once again. He raps his knuckles against the door and silence descends over the agitated crowd, his authority obvious as the unelected but natural leader of our community.

  “Please! Everyone, stay calm.” His voice is loud but soothing. “There has been a lot of talk lately about people going missing and another gang moving into the lower town. Unfortunately, the rumours have turned out to be true.” The crowd becomes noisy. My father waits a moment for them to settle. “In Tatley this morning, Edith and Robin witnessed a murder and an abduction carried out by this new gang. Daniel and Eliza have also reported another incident of abduction. We don’t know who these people are, but they’re a serious threat to our safety. Worse, the compound has been discovered. Whoever found us is coming back tomorrow. We’ve talked about this before. We’ve planned what to do if we were ever found by the Snatchers, or any other gang. It’s time to put that plan into action.”

  The murmuring increases and with it a rumbling of dissent. “But winter’s really starting to set in!” a shout across the room. “How will we survive?”

  “Best to go now before the snowfall,” Patrick adds in support as he steps closer to my father. He looks out at the gathered crowd, meeting their scared eyes with confidence. “We’re here to protect you. That’s what we swore to do,” he adds taking a deep breath and pulling his shoulders back.

  “The moors are no place to be this time of year!” Robin’s mother Margret shouts across the rising babble. The women standing around her shuffle and nod. She looks around, taking confidence from their muttering. A child begins to cry. “I’m not taking my kid across them moors. Not now. Winter’s upon us and it’ll be snowing up there soon and when it starts …”

  “Me neither,” another mother agrees, arm wrapped around the shoulder of her son, worn hands clutching his jumper. “We’ll die if we go up there. I’ll take my chances here.”

  My father’s shoulders sag a little, but he’s undeterred. “We can’t stay. They’ll be here tomorrow or the day after, or the day after that. They know we’re here now.”

  “We shouldn’t leave!” Margret shouts, insistent. “It’s too far into winter to go across them moors,” she repeats. “We can find another place to live. Like this one.”

  My father looks around, weighing up the defiance in the room, listening to the grumbling murmurs of agreement among those too scared to risk the journey, before speaking again. “I know that crossing the moors will be difficult, but staying here, in this compound, is too dangerous now. If you want to stay and find another place to hide then you can, but you’ll all be safer if you come with us. I’m not staying. I’m taking my family to safety. Me, Conrad, Patrick, Clement, we’re all leaving. Tomorrow. If you want to join us, make your preparations. We leave at dawn.” He steps down from the stairs, opens the front door wide, then makes his way through to the kitchen. My mother and the other Protectors - Conrad, Clement and Patrick - follow him.

  “Where’s he going to take us?” Robin asks, turning to me, frowning.

  “I don’t know. Across the moors somewhere,” I answer, the thought of leaving the safety of the compound forever and trekking across the moors into the unknown making fear sit like a stone in my belly.

  “Well, wherever it is I’m coming with you,” he says, putting his arm around my shoulder, squeezing it gently. A shiver runs through me at his touch.

  “But what about your mum?” I ask, trying to ignore the excitement running through me. “She wants to stay.”

  “Well, I’ll-”

  “Robin, come on,” Margret interrupts.

  “Coming, Mum.” He gives my shoulder a final squeeze. “Time to pack,” he smiles as he walks away. I watch as he is herded out of the door by his mother and a feeling of loss creeps over me and sits as a flutter in my heart.

  The rest of the night is spent in hurried preparations, gathering together everything we’ve been hoarding for this moment. Trekking into the moors is a challenge at any time, but in the winter it can be t
reacherous. I layer-up with t-shirts, roll-necks and jumpers, then squeeze as many pairs of jeans, socks and knickers into my rucksack as I can.

  “Edie, take this please,” my mother says, handing me a small package as I step into the kitchen.

  “What is it?” I ask, frowning down at the cloth-covered package in my hands.

  “Provisions, some dried meat and fruit. Fill a canister with water too—for the journey.”

  “Sure,” I respond, looking over at the four rolled and tied sleeping bags laid out on the scrubbed table. “Do I have to carry one of those too?”

  “Yep,” my mother looks up from her work. “You sure do,” she smiles, the skin about her eyes crinkling.

  “Oh,” I say unimpressed, thinking of the weight that I’ll have to endure.

  “And this,” my father adds walking into the room holding up a hunting knife firmly lodged in its leather holder. I can’t help a smile curling onto my lips.

  “You have to be able to defend yourself,” he says, his face serious, “in case …” He adds bending down to strap the sheath to my leg.

  By the early hours of the morning we’re ready. Four huge rucksacks sit in the middle of the living room as my mother makes us our last breakfast, cooking up as much as she can to fill our bellies before the journey.

  “Where are we going, Dad?” Pascha asks, stuffing his mouth with cold meat then slurping on peppermint tea.

  “Slow down, love. You’ll get the hiccups,” my mother frowns.

  “Sorry, Mum. Dad, where are we going then?” he repeats.

  “We’re going up into the moor. To a village called Hawdale. It’s where some of our friends live and it’s right out of the way.”

  “You might remember them, Edie, they lived in that hamlet between the hills. Sara and Benet. They had a boy, he’d be Pascha’s age and a baby girl, a toddler. What were their names? Joie and Isacke I think. Yes, that’s it. She was pregnant with her third the last time I saw her, but that was a few years ago now.”

  “Yes, I remember. I remember running up those steep hills, towards the woodlands at the top, and wondering how that house on its own, the one on the hill the other side, didn’t just drop off.”