“Don’t underestimate that woman. She’s trouble.”
Drake stood next to the Rolls Royce and Morris loaded a bag of tools into the boot.
Even though he was only twenty yards from his house Drake was becoming confused. Morris’ appearance morphed between the short squat man and the tall handsome pensioner and the memory of his conversation with Morris five minutes earlier was fading.
“Okay Mr. Maynard, it’s time I took you back to your house. You’ve got an awful lot to do.”
Chapter 49
Heather sat alone in her parent’s house. Sophie had gone out with Jack, Rosie was at school and John and Grace were at the cinema.
She lay on the bed and contemplated what Alice Donaldson told her in the hospital. Frustration consumed her. She’d had enough of ‘peekaboo’ ghosts who had a habit of materialising, tempting her with snippets of information and then vanishing back to wherever they came. She needed to understand what it meant when she’d been told she was Charles Nash’s ‘protector’.
Alice Donaldson mentioned a sacrifice which would have happened had she not taken the two children from Alexander Drake. What the hell did she mean? A sacrifice? Heather conjured up images of ancient rituals and the scenes she’d expect in a Hammer Horror movie. Heather desperately wanted to speak with either Alice, Nash, Elizabeth or the mysterious old lady in the heavy winter coat she’d seen in the graveyard, when she’d experienced what Elizabeth referred to as ‘a happening’.
She remembered Elizabeth telling her how she’d used a channel to contact those who’d passed over, and that the channel that worked for her was a small cross which hung from a chain around her neck. Charlie, the stone head, was the only thing Heather considered as a channel. Even though Nash told her all she needed was belief and a channel wasn’t necessary.
"I guess there’s no harm in trying," whispered Heather as she rolled off the bed and reached beneath for the head.
She placed it on the duvet and knelt down so she was opposite the grotesque face and staring into its eyes.
She wasn’t fussy about who she spoke with, whether it be Elizabeth, Charles, Alice or the old lady. As long as one of them gave her the answers she desperately needed.
She placed her hands on Charlie’s head and closed her eyes.
Nothing.
She tried again and this time she pleaded for help.
“If any of you can hear me please let me know. Alice, you’ve told me so much, but I need to learn more. And Charles, if you need protection, please tell me what I need to do. You’re already dead, so in God’s name what do you need protecting from? I don’t understand.”
She paused for a second and thought of her great grandmother.
“Elizabeth, please. We're flesh and blood, please do your best to guide me. I’m so lost and need your help……. Please!”
Heather dropped to the bed, her hands still gripping the stone
The head felt different. She’d noticed it yesterday when she’d taken it from her flat. It was cold to the touch, as if it was dead.
She stared at the ugly head and considered the strange things that had happened.
Why me? Why am I so special you chose me for such an epic task, and one which I know nothing about?
She sat on the bed and lugged it on to her lap.
“Somebody please speak to me!”
There was no reply. Then she became struck with a notion.
Other than the visit from her great grandmother and the first time she’d known of Charles Nash, all the really odd stuff had happened since Charlie had been on the scene.
“Maybe this your fault?” she said looking at the head.
“How can I trust you? How can I be sure you’re not the evil one?”
If Nash was correct, and she didn’t need a channel, was there any reason to keep Charlie? The ugly thing scared her and wasn’t making contact with any of the four spirits any easier.
She sighed and decided what to do with it.
“Sorry Charlie old boy, it’s time for you to go.”
She bundled the head into a carrier bag and carried it downstairs.
“Let’s go for a ride.”
She left the house and made her way to the bus stop and hopped aboard the bus which took her to Clifton. She got off the bus at Durdham Downs and walked to the Clifton Suspension Bridge intending to throw the thing over the side and watch it plunge seventy five metres to the muddy water flowing below.
What Heather had in mind would not go according to plan.
Chapter 50
Linda Tempest was late for an appointment with the beautician. Since she and her husband had become millionaires, she had decided to spend some money on herself.
She looked older than she should and hoped that a meeting with one of Bristol’s top beauticians would suggest a few pointers to shave a few years off her tired face.
She closed the door of their new five-bedroom house and hurried to the Mondeo which stood on the drive.
The red Porsche Kieran had bought her had been in the garage for the past ten days. The car was far too powerful, and she didn’t feel confident behind the wheel.
She jumped into her trusty Ford and turned the key.
‘Click’.
She tried again.
‘Click’.
And again.
‘Click, click, click, click’.
“Shit! The battery’s dead,” she cursed under her breath.
She looked at her watch. There wasn't enough time to call a taxi and she hated travelling on buses. She wasn't going to cancel the appointment.
She looked at the garage door and huffed air through her cheeks.
This will be a baptism of fire, she thought as she contemplated driving the Porsche.
She opened the garage and saw the gleaming car with the top down. She'd owned it for less than two weeks and it only had thirty-five miles on the clock. She had to admit, it was a beautiful looking thing.
Reluctantly she got in and started the car. The throaty engine made her shudder as it echoed around the garage.
She put it into gear and slowly lifted the clutch. Gently, she inched it forward and out of the drive.
“Be confident Linda, for God’s sake it’s only a car,” she told herself out loud.
She did her best to ease it onto the road, but found it difficult not to let the thing run away with her. Luckily there was nothing coming either way, and she headed along the tree lined road ahead of her.
A man on the pavement sniggered and watched the terrified woman gripping the steering wheel with all her might.
Her appointment was in Clifton, and from the direction she was coming, the quickest route would be a quick jaunt over the Clifton Suspension Bridge.
She became more used to the car, but still lacked confidence as she cautiously drove towards the bridge.
She pulled up at the toll booth, tossed the coins into the basket and waited for the barrier to rise.
She lifted the clutch and the car jerked forward. She looked to her right and saw the city and the River Avon flowing below. She didn’t like heights at the best of times and having the responsibility of getting the Porsche to the other side and being two hundred and forty-five feet above the water was too much for her.
The car lurched across the bridge, veering from left to right, nearly scuffing the safety barriers which separated pedestrians from cars.
Eventually, she crossed the bridge. She stared at her white knuckles as they clenched the steering wheel. She let out a sigh and continued her journey to Clifton.
Chapter 51
The red car took Heather by surprise as it headed towards her. She jumped to her left just before it mounted the kerb, missing her by only a few inches. As she leapt clear of the Porsche, she instinctively lifted her arms, and in doing so lifted the carrier bag, which ripped causing Charlie to drop onto the bonnet and roll to the ground, leaving an ugly dent in the beautiful body work of the car.
Heather drop
ped to the floor, twisting her ankle as she fell.
Linda shut off the engine and jumped out.
“My God, are you okay?”
Heather didn’t answer, she was too shocked to speak.
Linda gasped at the damage then caught sight of the stone head on the road. The instant her eyes met with the dent she knew the woman had dropped the rock onto her car.
Kieran will kill me, she thought whilst staring at the dent and the scraped paintwork.
Her attitude changed in a heartbeat and she went into defensive mode.
“Do you know how much this Porsche is worth? It’s virtually brand new. This will cost a fortune to repair.”
Heather paid little attention as she rubbed the side of her ankle.
“I want your name and address young lady as I’ll be sending you the bill.”
Heather came to her senses and stared at the red-faced woman who was fuming with rage.
“What are you talking about? You ran me off the pavement. You’re a bloody lunatic.”
“And you threw that bloody rock at my car.”
A heated argument followed and a group of people laughed at the two women brawling in the road.
“I’m taking this as evidence,” said Linda stooping down and picking up Charlie.
“No, you leave that alone, you’ve no right to take it,” shouted Heather.
Linda held the stone head and gawped at the painted face.
“What the fuck is it?”
“Give it back,” shouted Heather.
Linda became mesmerised by the thing. She felt how warm it was in her palms. After a few seconds it was too hot to hold.
“What the hell is this thing?” she shouted and dropped it onto the passenger seat.
“It’s none of your business. Give it back.”
“This is evidence!”
“Evidence of what?”
“Evidence you used this thing to wreck my car. My husband will kill me, and it’s your fault.”
“Never mind your husband killing you, you very nearly drove into me.”
Linda saw a policeman approaching in the near distance.
“You’re lucky I don’t report you,” said Linda jumping back into the car.
“Oi! Where are you going?” called Heather as Linda started the engine. Linda didn’t answer.
Heather watched the Porsche speed away with Charlie in the front. She shook her head and watched the policeman approach, pulling his notebook from his pocket.
Chapter 52
Gabriel Butler checked the time. It was only eight thirty in the morning. He knew Finn would be exhausted after yesterday.
Finn wasn’t coping well with what was happening. He wasn’t eating and his personal hygiene left a lot to be desired.
Since he’d discovered the third archetypon he’d been living a hazy existence between waking and sleeping. The transformation into Alexander Drake hit him for six.
Now he was back at Whitcombe Fields Road, Butler guessed Finn would be groggy and disoriented. But time was running out. There was little time until the next window of opportunity to recreate what should have happened on the 14th December 1804.
At nine ‘o clock, Butler marched across the road and banged on Finn’s door carrying a tool bag and a pick axe.
Finn looked weary as he opened the door.
“Oh, it’s you,” said Finn rubbing his eyes.
“Can I come in, please?” asked Butler pushing past Finn and dropping the bag and axe on the floor.
“What are those for?” asked Finn.
“All in good time. But first, have a wash.” replied Butler with his hand over his mouth to block out Finn's body odour.
Finn obediently did as he was told and slumped upstairs to the bathroom. Butler made coffee in the kitchen.
Ten minutes later Finn returned looking brighter. He wore the same clothes he’d had on for almost a week.
They drank coffee at the kitchen table.
“What do you remember of yesterday?” asked Butler.
“Not very much.”
“Do you remember the big house yesterday?”
With a frown, Finn nodded.
“Do you remember going inside?”
Finn gazed into the middle distance and nodded again.
“The big house? Yeah, I remember the big house.”
“But do you remember the basement?”
Finn concentrated and shook his head.
This was what Butler had expected. Finn’s memories of Drake wouldn’t last long. It would take time to draw the spirit of his old friend Alexander from Finn. It was something which must be done, otherwise the hard work over the past two-hundred years would be wasted.
“Yesterday I asked you whether this kitchen meant something to you. Does it stir any memories, does it make you think of anyone or something specific?”
Like yesterday, Finn knew Butler was referring to the ghosts of William and Louisa.
“Stand next to me,” said Butler.
Finn reluctantly got up and stood next to Gabriel.
Butler closed his eyes and could sense the bodies of the children beneath his feet. He could feel the fear they experienced the day Alice Donaldson took them from their home. Their sadness overwhelmed him.
“Finn, take my hand.”
“Why?”
“Just do it!”
Finn held Butler’s hand.
“Now close your eyes and concentrate.”
Finn shut his eyes.
Butler channelled the emotions and pain of the two children. Finn winced as he experienced the same sorrow and anguish racing through the core of Gabriel Butler.
Finn pulled his hand away.
“The children, they’re here, they’re with us now,” said Finn.
“It’s your job to get them out of there. Relieve them of their pain and sorrow, they need to be free,” said Butler.
“But they’re dead, I can’t free them.”
“Are you sure?”
He recalled seeing the vision of William the day he played with Rosie. He remembered how sad he looked. William said his sister was too scared to come out and play.
“They need your help Finn, it’s up to you.”
“I can’t do it, I just can’t do it.”
“Why? All you need to do is dig. I can assure you that you’ll find them.”
Finn shook his head.
“What would it take?” asked Butler.
“What do you mean?” replied Finn in a tired voice.
“I’m talking about money, how much?”
Butler was appealing to Finn’s mercenary side, which lately had waned because of the strange things happening to him.
“I’ll tell you what Mr. Maynard, I’ll give you fifty thousand pounds in cash if you break your way through the foundations of your house and find the bodies of those children.”
The easy money tempted him.
“All I have to do is dig for their skeletons?”
Butler nodded.
“I’ll do it for one hundred thousand.”
“I’ll give you seventy five and not a penny more.”
They shook hands on it and Butler noticed a sparkle in Finn’s eye.
“When do I start?” asked Finn.
“There’s no time like the present.”
Butler stood back and Finn moved the kitchen table to one side. He pulled up the vinyl flooring and used Butler’s the crowbar to yank up the floor boards.
From the hallway he watched as Finn wrenched the boards out of their place and discard them to the side of the kitchen as if he was possessed.
Butler knew that in order for his scheme to work, Finn had to be the one to find the children, although by the time he’d reached the bodies he would no longer be Finn. Alexander Drake would have completely taken over.
Butler had no intention of paying him. By the time he discovered the bodies, Finn would no longer exist.
Butler leant against the kitchen door and considered w
hat he had to do. Even though he possessed the archetypon, he had no idea where to look for the body of Mathias Morris.
Chapter 53
“What were you thinking you stupid woman? Do you have any idea how much it will cost to repair?” shouted Kieran.
“I don’t know why you’re getting so mad, it’s not as if we can’t afford it,” snapped Linda.
When she’d returned home after running Heather off the road, Linda put the Porsche back in the garage, closed the door and wondered what to do next.
She’d spent the evening fretting and pacing around the house worrying about how her husband would react when she told him of the accident.
Eventually she’d plucked up courage and explained what had happened.
“So what you’re telling me is that the woman who you almost drove into, threw the rock at the car?” asked Kieran whilst stroking his chin.
“More or less,” replied Linda.
“You need to find her, we need to get to her pay for the damage. Why didn’t you get her address?”
Linda was aware she didn’t have a leg to stand on. The accident was her fault and Heather accidently dropped Charlie on the bonnet when she’d jumped out of the way.
Linda didn't know Heather was Sophie Maynard’s sister. Although Heather visited her sister many times neither Linda nor Kieran had ever seen her in Whitcombe Fields Road.
“Is that the rock the woman threw at the car?” said Kieran pointing to Charlie and asking the obvious.
Linda nodded.
She leaned in and picked up the head to show Kieran.
“Ouch!” exclaimed Linda.
“What now?” snapped her husband.
“It’s hot, I mean red hot,” she replied blowing on her hands.
Kieran pushed passed her and touched it.
“What do you mean, ‘hot’? The thing's stone cold."
“Stone cold, is that meant to be a joke?”
“Check it for yourself, it’s not hot in the slightest.”
He placed it in her palms.
The Third Skull (Book Two - The Revelation): A Paranormal Mystery Thriller Page 3
