by N. J. Mercer
“I’ll take you both back to your father’s house for now, Rachel, and be with you again tomorrow morning,” said Stephanie Locke as she stood up slowly. She gave Steven a nod, and he also stood up, releasing Rachel from his embrace to hold her by the hand instead. “We’d better go,” said WPC Locke. Mr Abrahams looked on sadly.
The little group walked to the front of the building. A uniformed police officer was standing on the drive. Locke went to him. They had a few words and he left in his panda car. She walked back to the great wooden doors of the school’s main entrance where Rachel, Steven and Mr Abrahams stood waiting.
“I’ll take you both home now,” she said. Father and daughter followed her to an unmarked Ford. Just before Rachel got into the vehicle, Stephanie Locke couldn’t help giving the girl a hug. “You’ve been such a brave girl, Rachel; I’ll make sure you’re going to be okay.”
Rachel managed to smile back at her. They drove off down the long slope that led from the school to the road. Rachel saw Mr Abrahams watching their car; he shook his head sadly and made his way to his own car parked nearby.
The mood in the vehicle was sombre and Steven tried to make small talk with his daughter; after all, this was the most he had seen of her in two years. But the circumstances made it difficult to connect with Rachel who was already looking overwhelmed by events so he gave it a rest. They stopped first at Rachel’s home in Hilvern to collect a few personal items. It had always been a lively place; now, the photographs, scattered clothing, and letters were no longer signs of active habitation, they were monuments to someone who was no longer there. Rachel listened to Steven as he started fondly pointing out items from life before the divorce: decorations, cushions, and an old vase. There were also plenty of reminders that Louise had moved on following her divorce; the most potent being a photograph of her with another man.
“Is this Martin?” her father asked her as he looked at the picture of Martin with Louise and Rachel. “Could have been me there,” he said poignantly, more to himself.
At this moment in time, WPC Locke, who was trained in counselling and managing bereavement in children, was an essential comfort to Rachel. “Just grab a few important things for now, Rachel love. Take your time deciding what you need,” she advised, the kindness in her voice unwavering.
Rachel led the way to her bedroom and the policewoman followed. They sat together on the floor in front of the open wardrobe to sort through clothing and other items Rachel might need. It was still uncertain exactly what would be happening over the next few days.
“Will I have to live with my dad?” Rachel asked WPC Locke while they were in the bedroom.
The police officer had already been briefed about Steven Croft’s background. He hadn’t a penny to his name and continued to battle with drug and alcohol problems. He was a far from suitable candidate to take on the care of a child; the man could barely take care of himself.
“You stay with your dad for tonight, Rach, I’ll see you in the morning. We might let you stay another night depending on how things go, and then we will find someone who can really look after you properly,” replied WPC Locke.
Rachel accepted this without any argument. If half the things her mum had told her about Steven were true then she knew she was better off living elsewhere. After packing away her last item, a pair of denim jeans, Rachel asked the question that Stephanie Locke had been preparing for and dreading.
“Stephanie, what happened to my mother?” asked the girl.
**
Rachel quickly closed the diary and the comic book that concealed it. She could hear footsteps and creaking floorboards from the landing moving towards her room. She shoved the books beneath her bed and switched her lamp off before the footsteps got close enough to notice the light spilling out from around her bedroom door. She lay down flat on the bed and pulled the sheets over her body. Someone walked past her room; from the footfall she guessed it was her foster mother. Her ears pricked up at the sound of the bathroom door opening and closing. She continued to listen; the toilet flushed and the footsteps made their way back to one of the rooms across the landing. It was almost morning and she had hardly slept. As she lay in her bed, tiredness finally caught up with her, and she fell into a deep slumber.
Chapter 10
With the motorhome hidden from view in the lay-by and Boyd’s amulet concealing them from psychic detection, Johnny and his friends managed to sleep. Having retired late and awoken early it had not been for long enough. They ignored the tiredness, there was too much to do; their deadline was only two nights away and they still had not discussed where they needed to go from here.
From the moment he opened his eyes, Johnny could sense the aberrant psychic energy in the atmosphere; it had become stronger the further north they travelled. The inherently random nature of its waves meant that it remained impossible to pinpoint where it emanated from. He sat up in his bunk and looked around; Boyd was already awake and whispering chapters from a small book while Sascha stirred in his sleeping bag. Johnny carefully watched Boyd; this man’s duty was the protection of humanity from rogue psychic activity while his own was the maintenance of the equilibrium between Order and Disorder. For now they were together; he wondered if their interests would ever conflict. What if there was a situation where he himself would be considered by Boyd and his Order as being rogue?
With muttered greetings, Johnny made his way to the bathroom and splashed cold water onto his face. He thought about the recurrent dream; like the energy disturbance it too was becoming stronger and increasingly vivid the further north he travelled. The call for help came from an old woman and her presence in the dream was more powerful than ever. He was certain that it was a psychic message and not something generated from within his own mind. He had not told anyone about the dream in any detail, mostly because he was not yet sure that he trusted it.
Next, Johnny checked on Baccharus, who remained asleep; his recovery would soon be complete. Johnny knew they would need all the psychic ability they could muster on their side which meant that both he and Baccharus had to be on top form.
Once everybody was awake, there was a burst of activity within the enclosed space of the motorhome mostly focused around the bathroom. Soon, they had all gathered around the table for a quick breakfast from the kitchen stores. When the plates and bowls were empty the conversation moved swiftly to the matters at hand and Johnny recapped:
“Both the Council of Seven and Boyd’s conversations with Martin tell us that we have until tomorrow evening to find out what the Disciples of Disorders are up to. It seems pretty inevitable that we will also have to do something to stop them. Nobody knows exactly what the consequences of failure will be; needless to say, no good would come of it. If Disorder dominated Order then this world would certainly be a very different place. So on that note, let’s decide on our next move.”
Lively discussion fuelled by strong coffee followed. The question for now was how to reach the source of the aberrant energy and the Disciples of Disorder; they would worry about what to do once they got there … if they got there. Johnny considered their main lead: the energy itself – it had proven to be far too loud and random to take them to a specific source – even Sascha’s equipment was unable to pinpoint its origin. Johnny could see that for the mission to progress it was time to follow a more solid, definite direction, not just dreams and psychic energy. Martin, the man who had approached Boyd for help, was their only ally thus far and therefore their best hope for getting deeper into the investigation. Martin had been reluctant to give out many details regarding the Disciples in his early dealings with Boyd; however, judging by their last conversation, he was now prepared to reveal everything. Where was he? Had the Disciples already found him? There was no way of knowing. In fact, he was someone about whom they all knew surprisingly little except for one very important item of information, his address. Johnny proposed a visit to Martin’s apartment as their next move.
“I started searchin
g the flat, and it was only a few seconds later that I noticed that bastard Kreb from the balcony window and gave chase, so I never really got to look properly,” said Boyd.
“In that case,” said Johnny, “I suggest we go back and complete the job. Who knows, we might even find Martin there.”
All were in agreement; returning to Martin’s apartment for a thorough search could reveal some clues. Johnny’s ongoing concern was that the Disciples of Disorder were on to them; they had already sent two of their vicious agents in the form of Mr Kreb and his Firehound to halt their progress. Sascha raised the question once again of how it was that these demons came to know about them; nobody could explain it. There was a sneaking suspicion growing inside Johnny that it might have something to do with his mysterious dreams. He kept this to himself for now; it was only a hunch, and he didn’t want to worry the group unduly. Nobody was uncertain about the danger of what they were dealing with here. Only a formidable organisation could have summoned a powerful ally such as Kreb. The Disciples and their leader must have possessed deep knowledge of arcane psychic lore. With these thoughts, the conference reached a natural conclusion; it was time to visit Martin’s flat.
The camper rolled onto the road once again. The motorbike, by far the speedier transport, rode on ahead to scout for the main party. Mobile phones were going to be their means of communication. Johnny was grateful that Boyd had left the Qrwshan amulet in the motorhome as he, Sascha and Baccharus were all more likely to be detected psychically than Boyd ever would be.
As Johnny drove, Sascha started some research via the Internet. He looked stubbornly for references to cult and occult activity in Scotland. Judging by the periodic murmurs of satisfaction, Johnny could only assume the search was yielding useful information. Next time he looked over, Sascha was jotting down notes and sketching maps. “I’m charting paranormal activity in different regions of the Scottish Highlands,” he explained. “I’m trying to find some clues about where we need to go and maybe establish the source of the aberrant energy and uncover any information as to its origin.” Sascha could never be accused of lacking ambition in his endeavours.
The journey was uneventful; Johnny supposed it was because the daytime traffic was enough to conceal their physical presence and also their psychic aura. Even without the amulet it would have been difficult to detect their consciousness amongst that of all the people in the cars that surrounded them; difficult, but not impossible.
**
Boyd reached the apartment twenty minutes before Johnny and the motorhome. He parked a few streets away from the building to remain discreet and then carried out some initial reconnaissance that revealed no cause for concern; nobody suspicious was watching over the building or its surrounding area. With a phone call, he gave his companions trailing behind in the larger vehicle the all clear to approach, and they decided that the best course of action would be for Boyd to go ahead and start searching the apartment whilst waiting for their arrival. Boyd entered the block and made his way to Martin’s front door. Once he was there, he noticed that someone had closed it which struck him as being a little strange because he remembered leaving it open. Could’ve been anybody, he thought and tried the door handle, noting the frame was still damaged.
**
The motorhome and its crew arrived on the scene. Johnny and Sascha tentatively made their way to the flat while Baccharus, who was almost back to full strength, remained behind in the vehicle under protest to keep a lookout. When the others entered, Boyd was already standing in the middle of the front room; he held a framed photograph of someone receiving a certificate. The certificate itself was alongside the photo and it bore the name Martin Butler. Boyd had just finished a cursory search of the apartment. The place looked an absolute mess and he reassured his friends that he wasn’t responsible.
“Someone beat us here?” asked Johnny.
Boyd nodded. “I’ve had a look around. Whoever was here before us didn’t leave a stone unturned.”
“This place is full of residue,” Johnny commented, referring to residual psychic energy in the form of Presarium particles that had been left lingering in the atmosphere. It appeared that the flat had been searched both physically and psychically.
“I guess there’s no point in us looking through everything again,” said Sascha.
“You won’t find a thing,” Boyd confirmed confidently.
“How about psychically, Johnny? Is there anything useful in the residual energy you’re detecting?” added Sascha.
Johnny shook his head slowly as he concentrated. “No … nothing specific so far, just more signs of Disorder,” he said, frowning.
The three of them couldn’t help feeling dismayed; they had come here to find clues, unfortunately, so had whoever was here before them. Sascha and Boyd turned around with glum faces to leave the room, not knowing what their next move was to be. Johnny, who was about to follow them out, stopped suddenly.
“Don’t open the door,” he whispered to them.
“What?”
“Pardon?”
“Don’t open the door; somebody is watching us.”
“Watching us? How?” Sascha asked.
“Shhh…” Johnny replied holding up his hand. “Let me concentrate.” Sure enough he could feel somebody watching them, waiting for them to leave.
Boyd listened carefully, trying to detect what Johnny had sensed. He shook his head. “I can’t hear anything.”
Johnny continued to concentrate and his friends remained silent. In his mind, the physical form of the world fell away, its atoms and molecules vanished and he sensed his surroundings only through Presarium, the ghost particle, present in all matter.
Johnny perceived a flow of particles, and with his mind’s eye he traced their source to the opposite flat, across the hall. He interpreted the frequency and amplitude of the waves and concluded there was somebody of insignificant psychic ability trying to spy on them. The aberrant energy in the background masked the picture a little; however, this other individual was so close that Johnny managed to see past it.
“Friend or foe?” asked Boyd.
“Is it the Disciples?” asked Sascha.
“None of them,” Johnny replied, “it’s somebody who is afraid, very afraid, watching us as prey watches its hunter, and he is concerned for his own safety. He is trying to look at us through the security lens of his front door. I think he’s alone in there.” The frown of concentration on Johnny’s face faded away.
“What do we do?” Sascha asked.
“If he is looking now,” said Johnny, “he could have been looking when Martin went missing and when whoever came along to make this mess was here.”
“He could have seen what happened!” said Boyd and in his eagerness grabbed the door handle to confront the stranger across the hall.
“Boyd, stop!” Sascha called out. “Johnny said the guy is scared, I say it’s probably because he did see something. We can’t just go charging up to his door, especially not all three of us at once. And with all due respect, Boyd, you’re not the most comforting-looking stranger to have knocking at your door.”
“Fine, but right now he looks like our only lead,” said Boyd, taking his hand away from the door handle.
“Why don’t you go?” Sascha asked Johnny. “You seem to have tuned in to how this fellow is feeling, you have the measure of the man.”
Johnny nodded. “I’ll go then. You guys stay here.”
He walked out of Martin’s apartment and strolled as casually as possible to the door opposite, aware all the time that he was being observed through the tiny security lens. Johnny mustered a kindly smile and knocked. As expected, he had caught the man behind the door by surprise and sensed his anxiety peak. There was no response to the knock; he was still there though, behind the door, quite afraid and not daring to move just in case he gave himself away by doing so. Johnny projected positive emotional signals to try to create a sense of reassurance. Nothing happened; it was becoming
obvious that the man was unwilling to meet any strangers.
“Hi, my name’s Johnny. I’m a friend of Martin’s,” he said aloud in the least threatening way he could manage. “Martin has been missing for a while, I’m just wondering if you saw anything? I’m worried about him. If there is anybody inside, please talk to me.” Johnny detected some of the man’s fear ebb away; his benign manner seemed to be working, although the man was still far from ready to open the door. Whatever he had seen must have really put the fear in him. Johnny stepped away from the door and went back into Martin’s flat where Sascha and Boyd awaited him.
“What happened?” asked Boyd as Johnny entered.
“Aren’t you going to give him a chance to open the door?” asked Sascha.
“He’s not going to open the door,” Johnny replied. “Whatever he saw freaked him out too much. It’s probably why this place isn’t already crawling with police – he’s been too afraid to call them.”
“Then what do we do now?”
Johnny thought about their options. “At this point, my friends, time is of the essence, and we still don’t have any solid leads.” He turned to face Boyd. “I suggest you use your size fourteens and kick down the door so we can all pile in and ask a few questions.”
The suggestion was brutal and it surprised his friends; they couldn’t think of any alternative so went along with it. Boyd assumed command.
“Okay, let’s do this! Johnny, stand behind me; Sascha, in front.”
The three of them lined up inside the front door to Martin’s flat, ready to charge across the hallway.
“Okay, guys, this is the idea. Sascha, you open the door then me and Johnny run out across the hallway with me in the lead. I kick in the door of the flat opposite and we pile in.”
“Can you do it with one kick?” Johnny asked.
