The helicopter turned again, and Kramer saw the house. She remembered an ex-boyfriend telling her how to look for stars at night. ‘Don’t look directly at them. Look to one side and the edge of your vision will see more than the centre.’
Kramer looked to where the pale gravel driveway looped between manicured lawns. She saw it again. A shadow, dancing across the tiled roof before it slipped out of view.
“Take us down,” she said to the loadmaster. “I want to go in on the ground.”
“You want us to wait?” the crewman asked.
“No,” Kramer said, after a moment’s thought. “Take Macca and Reuben back to the village. They can grab some transport and come and get us.”
The pilot chose the paddock, not landing but coming in at a steep angle to hover a few metres above the grass. Kramer, Geordie and Tiny jumped out, buffeted by the powerful downdraft as the Merlin rose into the sky. Kramer wiped dust and grass from her face. On the ground, the house looked more imposing. Ivy clung to one wing as the structure dominated her eye line. She clicked the safety catch of her MP5A off. Geordie gave her a look. She nodded and watched as he did the same.
“Trouble?” he asked.
“I thought I saw something. Or maybe it’s just a feeling that something’s not right.”
“Tiny?” Geordie said. “Take point.”
***
Leading the way across the paddock to the post and rail fence that formed the boundary of the stable block Tiny saw nothing that would make him think Captain Kramer was right about possible trouble. Since landing, dark clouds had pushed in front of the sun, and the temperature had fallen away a couple of degrees. The place looked quiet, just like it should with the occupants moved outside the exclusion zone. Tiny scrambled over the fence and ran to the corner of the stables. The yard was concrete, pretty clean all things considered. Some straw had blown across the area from open stables. Tiny held up one hand to stop the others moving forward. The air grew colder around him. There were twelve stalls in this block. Two rows of six facing each other. Tiny counted five that were sealed up tight. The rest had been ripped open. Split doors hung from damaged hinges. Something had peeled back the roof of each stall. The place looked like a bomb had gone off.
Tiny wouldn’t know what a horse’s skeleton looked like, but since the scattered bones strewn across the yard were in a stable he guessed they were from horses. A few flies buzzed around the remains, but Tiny couldn’t see or smell much meat left on the bones.
He swallowed and said, “Dead horses.”
Geordie and Kramer joined him. They were silent for a moment before Kramer said, “Check the stalls for threats.”
They moved as a team from one stall to the next. They found scattered bones in some. Others were empty. They re-grouped in the centre of the yard. Tiny looked at Kramer and said, “Weren’t all the livestock supposed to have been evacuated? I mean, if the horses were still here what about the people up at the house?”
“Yeah,” Kramer said.
They turned to look at the building and each one felt a cold thread run down their spines.The stone seemed darker now as if it absorbed the daylight that fell upon it. Tiny found his mouth dry. He worked his tongue for a moment to loosen up his saliva glands. He’d signed up to the army because of his granddad. The old man had done national service in the Parachute Regiment. Tiny had wanted to make him proud so signed up as soon as he could. Now he was part of 1 Para, and nothing felt better than wearing the traditional red beret. Despite only being twenty-three, Tiny had seen enough service in Afghanistan to make him hardened to most things.
But horses stripped to the bone?Anything that could eat a horse would make short work of him. And probably the other two at the same time. Not good. Not good at all.
“Let’s go,” Geordie said.
Tiny nodded and led them off again. Behind him, Geordie kept pace with the Yank a few metres further back. Tiny still hadn’t worked her out. Geordie seemed pretty sure she was made of the right stuff. Tiny would like to see her in a firefight before he made his mind up, even though Geordie vouched for her. Tiny hadn’t been chosen for the mission that Geordie and the others were picked for. In some ways that was a good thing. Geordie had been the only one to come back in one piece. Four died, and the last one still lay in hospital after surgery for gunshot wounds. Geordie talked to Tiny and Macca over a pint. He wanted two men to join him in a team being seconded to a bunch of spies who thought ghosts and demons were real. Tiny still didn’t quite believe it, though Geordie tried his hardest to persuade them it was true.
So, what d’you think now?
As he jogged alongside the tennis court, Tiny made sure he kept his gun up and ready. Anything that could eat a horse would make short work of him. And probably the other two at the same time. Not good. Not good at all. As the tennis court finished, a wide lawn bordered by areas of shrubs and flowers opened up. Tiny ignored them, concentrating on the building and the windows that showed nothing but reflections of the sky and garden.
He tracked around a wrought iron patio table and approached the back door. Geordie and Kramer positioned themselves close in against the building to his left. A trickle of sweat ran down his spine as he reached out to the door handle. It turned. The door opened. Tiny released the breath he’d been holding.
“Go,” Geordie said.
Tiny pushed into the kitchen, gun tight to his shoulder. An island with a granite worktop dominated the room. Tiny ran around it as Geordie and Kramer bracketed the door into the hallway. Kramer pulled the door open, and Tiny went first again. He stepped onto wood laminate floor, stairs to his left, front door ahead. Two doors led off the hall, both closed. Tiny moved down towards the front door.
That’s when he saw the trail of blood.
Tiny stopped and held up a hand.
“Blood,” he said, pointing down.
“Clear the stairs,” Geordie ordered.
Tiny stepped over the blood; it was dry and starting to flake. He looked towards the landing. Something lay on the stairs about halfway up like a discarded old coat. A rain mac. The sort of item an old woman wore to the shops. He glanced left. Kramer and Geordie were ready to enter the first room. Tiny’s eyes went back to the rain mac.
Not a rain mac.
“Jesus,” he said.
“What?” Geordie asked.
Tiny went up three steps. An aroma like decaying meat came from the object. Not a rain mac. Not clothing, unless someone thought skin was clothing.
“It’s skin,” Tiny said as he knelt and touched it. “It’s human skin.”
“More blood up there,” Kramer said. She pointed up. Dark stains smeared the wall where the stairs and landing met.
The silence in the house became oppressive. Tiny gripped the stock of his gun harder as his heart began to race. The walls pressed in and the stairs seemed to get steeper as he looked at them. This wasn’t a good place to be.
“Up,” Geordie said.
Taking the stairs two at a time, Tiny reached the landing. It formed a balcony going off to the left, where a white balustrade cast shadows like the bars of a prison across thick pile carpet. He covered the right as Kramer and Geordie came up. The landing ran into the extended section of the building. A step midway along showed the change in level. All the doors closed.
His eyes flicked from one to the next as he heard Kramer say, “Where first?”
He half turned. There were only three doors the other way. Easier to do those first.
When he turned back, a girl waited there. Young, maybe ten or eleven. She wore a white nightdress. Her dark hair hung lank and unwashed around a pale face. Dark brown eyes stared at him. Tiny’s throat tightened in shock. He looked past her. Nothing. All the doors remained closed. So where had she come from?
“I’m scared,” she whispered.
“It’s okay.” Tiny took half a step towards her, his gun lowered as he reached out to her. “We’re here to help.”
Her lips cur
led back in a smile and Tiny’s blood froze when he saw her teeth. Her fangs. The girl’s sides erupted, new limbs that twisted and hissed as six serpents searched for their prey. They sensed Tiny and turned, jaws opening.
Something hard hit Tiny between the shoulder blades. He fell, a serpent’s jaw snapping close as he hit the wall. Kramer stood where he’d been a moment before. Gunfire deafened him. The girl was plucked from her feet in a welter of limbs, serpents and blood. Reaching out to grasp a handful of Tiny’s shirt Kramer hauled him to his feet.
“Out,” she shouted. “Out.”
Tiny followed Geordie down the stairs, along the hall and out through the kitchen. They tracked around the house, aiming at the windows until they cleared the shadow of the building and got halfway down the driveway. Only then did Geordie stop. Tiny dropped to his knees. He stared at the gravel and saw nothing but the girl and the serpents.
“What the fuck was that?” he asked while in his head he heard the pounding of blood and the voices of his instructors from basic training. Stay alert. Stay Alive.
“Apart from a girl with serpents for arms?” Kramer asked.
Tiny shook himself. “Did that just happen?” he asked.
“Believe me now?” Geordie squatted in front of him.
Tiny nodded. He looked up at the woman who had just saved his life, silhouetted against the sky. “Thanks, Captain.”
She smiled. “Not a problem. And don’t bother with the captain. You can call me Jo.”
On his feet and wiping dust and gravel from his knees Tiny said, “That doesn’t feel right.”
“I don’t think I’ll be going back to the army after all this,” Kramer said. “So the rank can go.”
“My name’s Dan,” Tiny held out a hand. Kramer shook it and turned to Geordie. “You?”
Geordie sniffed. “Derek,” he said.
“Nice to finally meet you.” Kramer smiled.
“What’s next?” Tiny asked.
“We wait for Macca and Reuben,” Kramer said. “Then we go back in.”
“Why did I know you were going to say that?” Geordie sighed.
“Because you know me so well. And you know that girl didn’t eat the horses. Something else did.”
***
“What do you think he was?” Douglas Congrave sometimes wondered if being the head of an intelligence unit that investigated paranormal events wasn’t a punishment for a transgression in a previous life. Right now, sitting in the dining room of Sheddlestone Hall, he watched Ben Scarrett rub his right arm.
“I’m not sure. I think it’s not what he was but why he was.”
Congrave frowned, “What do you mean?”
“He came out of the sea for a reason.”
“To sit in a pub and drink a pint of bitter?”
“Yeah.” Ben tried to lift the cup of coffee delivered to the table, but his right hand shook too much. The cup hit its saucer with a clatter and hot liquid spilt out.
Ben stared at his hand.
“Are you okay?” Congrave leant forward.
“My hand.” Ben watched the fingers curl together. “I’m not doing that.”
“My office. Now.” Congrave stood. He waited for Ben to follow and led him out of the dining hall and along a portrait-lined corridor.
Daisy was on duty again as they cross the reception hall.
“Daisy, get the on-duty doctor up to my office.”
She didn’t question the order and by the time Ben was halfway up the stairs he could hear Daisy making the call.
“I touched him,” Ben said as they reached Congrave’s office. “Shook his hand when we first met.”
“Sit down.” Congrave walked behind his desk. “Tell me what you meant by why he was.”
Congrave saw a look of pain run across Ben’s face. The younger man held his hand close to his body. He seemed to shiver. Congrave waited until Ben looked up at him.
“Ben?”
“I need to...” Ben stood and stumbled to the desk.
Congrave sat back, giving Ben room as he pulled a writing pad to him. The right hand reached out and found a pen.
“I’m not doing this,” Ben said.
“Don’t fight it.”
Congrave heard a knock at the door. He rose as Ben’s hand began to write in rapid movements. Congrave let the duty doctor in and waved him to silence. They watched as Ben began to breathe faster and faster. Sweat began to run down his face as his hand stuttered on the page.
“No,” Ben said.
Ben’s hand moved again before it dropped the pen. He took a step back. The doctor moved quickly. He grabbed Ben and steered him to a chair.
“What happened there, then?” the doctor asked.
“I’d guess some kind of possession,” Congrave said as he returned to his desk. He looked at the pad. The writing seemed no more than a series of jagged marks. Congrave studied them as he heard the doctor telling Ben to roll up his sleeve.
When he turned, Congrave saw the doctor checking Ben’s blood pressure.
“What did I write?” Ben asked.
“You don’t know?”
“I just saw lots of lines.”
“Did it hurt?” the doctor asked.
“Yeah, kind of like really sharp pins and needles.”
“Blood pressure’s little raised. No surprise there.” The doctor dug into his bag and pulled out a digital thermometer. He aimed for Ben’s ear. “Sit still for a minute.”
While Ben remained motionless, Congrave went back to the writing. It looked like random marks, but Congrave knew better.
“That looks good,” the doctor stood. “Is there any residual pain.”
“Feels like I’m back to normal.” Ben held his hand up in front of his face and waggled the fingers. “All mine.”
“Well, it looks like this was only a small episode. If you feel anything returning give me a shout.”
“Thanks, James,” Congrave let the doctor out.
“Well, that was kind of interesting,” Ben said as the door closed.
“Certainly was.” Congrave tried a smile that didn’t last long.
“Can I look?” Ben asked.
Congrave passed him the writing pad. As Ben stared at the page, Congrave walked to the window of his office. He’d had the pick of the rooms and went for one with a picture-perfect view of the gardens. Terraced lawns fell away to maintained woodland that bordered a lake. There were glimpses of water through the trees as leaves changed colour and fell. This would be the first autumn and winter his unit had been in Sheddlestone Hall. Before then, they’d occupied offices in central London. The difference between the concrete jungle and the land around the stately home couldn’t be more different.
“I always knew I was no good at art but even my stick men look dodgy,” Ben said behind him.
Congrave laughed. “I can’t comment on your education, either.”
“And why would that be?” Ben asked.
“What you are looking at isn’t dodgy stick men, it’s from the runic alphabet.”
“It’s writing?” Ben asked.
“It is indeed.” Congrave sat behind his desk. He picked up his telephone and dialled a number. “Daisy? Can you check through the various scientists we’ve got lurking around here and see if any have knowledge of runic writing? If you happen to find one, send them up to my room...Yes, Ben’s fine, no need to worry.... Oh, you weren’t... I’ll let him know.”
Ben handed the writing pad over. “How’s Kramer doing?”
“Fine,” Congrave said as he studied the writing. “A bit of a problem with some missing scientists but nothing she can’t handle.”
“How did they go missing?”
“No one knows,” Congrave said. “Three people disappeared from a house where the doors and windows were locked from the inside.”
“Do you want me to go down there?”
“Not at the moment.” A knock at the door interrupted him. “Yes?”
The door opened, and
a portly, middle-aged woman put her head into the room.
“I understand you asked for someone who knew runes?”
“I did indeed, come in.”
Ben stood and pulled a second chair over for the woman.
“Professor Ruth Clements,” she introduced herself to Congrave. “I think we met very briefly at the reception for the newcomers on the day we arrived.”
Congrave gave her a smile. “Indeed we did. This is Ben Scarrett, on attachment to us from a partner organisation in the United States.”
Ruth smiled at Ben. “And the runic writing?”
Congrave handed it over. “Will you need much time?”
“Oh, no, looking at it now I can translate it here. Can I use another sheet of this pad?”
Congrave handed her a pen. He watched as she studied and wrote. Once or twice she frowned but when done gave him a nod of satisfaction.
“Yes, I’m happy with that.”
“And what does it say?” Ben asked.
“It says ‘Beware jotun, Beware draugar’ and ends Aegir.”
“Do you know what that means?” Congrave asked. “Jotun and draugar?”
“They are all from Norse mythology. Jotun are giants and draugar are the undead.” Ruth handed the paper across the Congrave.
“And what about Aegir?” Ben asked. “What’s that?”
“More like who’s that?” Ruth smiled. “In Norse mythology, Aegir is the ruler of the sea.”
Ben looked at Congrave. “The sea?”
“Yes.” Ruth frowned. “I take it that means something to you?”
“Kind of,” Ben said.
“Thanks for your help.” Congrave stood and reached out to shake Ruth’s hand. “We may be back to ask more questions later.”
Ruth seemed disappointed she wouldn’t get more information there and then. “Anything you need to know now?”
“I don’t think so.” Congrave’s smile pointed her towards the door.
As the door closed behind the professor, Congrave lifted her notes up and said, “Giants and the undead.”
“They sound like a bunch of party animals.”
“Indeed, and it seems you just met the ruler of the sea.”
“Nice of him to introduce himself.”
The Anomaly Page 6
