by Jodi Taylor
Joanna pulled herself together.
‘Shut up everyone. We’re safe. They can’t get in. If they could, they’d be here by now. We’re safe. They can’t get in.’
‘And you can’t get out,’ said Iblis, and paused to let that sink in. ‘Well, you can try, of course, but your chances of making your way safely through their ranks are … Well, it’s not going to happen.’
She persisted. ‘But they can’t get in?’
He smiled and it wasn’t pleasant. ‘They don’t need to. They have only to wait.’
‘For what?’
He raised his voice so they could all hear. ‘For you to die. As you all surely will. This year … next year … sometime … whenever. And when you do – they’ll be waiting for you. And they’ve waited a very long time.’
Joanna scrabbled at me. ‘Save us. You have to do something. You called them. I know you did. You did this.’
I shook my head. ‘I did nothing. They were here. They’ve always been here. All I did was open the door.’
‘No. You can’t leave us like this. You have to save us. Send them away.’
I spoke so they could all hear. ‘You have woven your own fate. No matter how far you run, they will always be with you. Watching and waiting. Death will not release you. Nothing can save you from what you have done over the years. One by one, you will die. And then you will belong to them.’
They stood, lost and bewildered among their dead stones and dying bonfires. Many were crying. I found I didn’t feel sorry for any of them.
‘I can’t help feeling,’ said Jones quietly, ‘that it would be rather an anti-climax if we stay any longer.’ He indicated with his head. Jerry’s car was pulling up outside the pub. ‘Shall we go?’
Chapter Thirty
I was never more glad to see anyone. Jerry got out of the car and wandered across the green, taking it all in. Finally, he put his hands on his hips and surveyed the scene around him, saying with massive understatement, ‘Well, bugger me.’
‘Yes,’ said Jones, ‘although I can’t help feeling you’re not seeing it at its best right now.’
I was staring at Alice’s arm, unable to drag my eyes away. He gently turned me around. ‘Don’t look, Cage.’
I looked up at him. ‘What are we going to do? Should we call the police?’
He sighed. ‘Cage, even you can’t be involved in two separate investigations on the same day.’
The events at Rushby seemed another world away. This time yesterday we’d been sitting in our cottage eating supper. Now …
‘But surely we should tell someone,’ I persisted.
‘Tell who? And tell them what? No, we’ll just get into the car and drive quietly away and leave someone else to sort all this out. I should imagine the women will say they were having some sort of folk-lorey, rusticky traditional ceremony thingy and there was an unfortunate accident. How they’ll explain that woman …’
‘…Alice Chervil …’
‘Alice Chervil being starkers is not our problem. To the car, Cage, and don’t spare the horses.’
‘A moment please,’ said Iblis. ‘We’ve forgotten something.’
‘What?’
‘Unfinished business.’
‘Oh yes?’ said Jones, suspiciously. ‘And what’s that, then?’
For an answer, Iblis groped around inside one of his many pockets and tossed something down on the grass. ‘That.’
‘What on earth is that?’ said Jones.
I thought at first it was some sort of snake. It certainly looked like one, coiled on the grass, black and wicked. Then I saw it was comprised of black cords, all carefully plaited together with black feathers. Complicated knots had been woven in every few inches.
‘That,’ said Iblis, ‘is a witches’ ladder. Every knot represents a curse.’
There were a lot of knots. The thing lay at my feet and though it wasn’t alive and had no colour, I could see the dark light with which it surrounded itself.
‘Is that what you found in my house?’
‘In your porch, yes. I just want to be absolutely sure these ladies aren’t going to give it another go.’
Despite everything, Joanna had craned to look. Even Becky had stopped crying. Joanna shook her head. ‘Nothing to do with us.’ She stared harder. ‘Not our style.’
By which I suspected she meant ‘not enough blood’, but her colour said she wasn’t lying. Nor Becky.
‘They’re telling the truth,’ I said. ‘It’s not theirs.’
‘Interesting,’ said Iblis, ‘but it doesn’t matter now.’ He picked it up, grasped the ends and tugged. Massive muscles stood out on his arms and chest. He really was immensely strong.
‘Show off,’ said Jones in my ear.
The witches’ ladder came apart in his hands and he tossed the pieces into one of the bonfires. It flared briefly – a small fire within a larger one – and then it was gone. Completely destroyed. A weight I hadn’t known I was carrying lifted from my shoulders.
‘Yes, very impressive,’ said Jones, unimpressed. ‘But unless there’s something else you want to astonish Cage with, we’ll be off.’
‘Just one more small thing,’ said Iblis, and disappeared back into the dark.
Jones turned to me. ‘Cage you really do know the strangest people.’
I looked him up and down. ‘I do, don’t I?’
Iblis reappeared almost immediately, casually tossing his long hair back over his shoulders, his face attractively smudged with dirt, and with a grubby mongrel tucked securely under one arm. It only needed a throaty female voice in the background singing, ‘I need a hero …’
‘Oh, please,’ muttered Jones. ‘Not only does he save the day but he gets to rescue the little dog as well.’
Jerry scowled and muttered something about not wanting scruffy mongrels in his car.
‘Or the dog either,’ said Jones. ‘Can we go?’
‘The less dog-like scruffy mongrel got you out of Sorensen’s clinic,’ I said quietly.
‘Did he? I thought he seemed familiar.’
‘Well, you don’t think either Jerry or I could lift you, do you?
But by all means be as ungracious and ungrateful as you can. Which, I should imagine is quite a lot. In fact, now I stop to think about it, at one time or another, you’ve been rescued by everyone here. I’d pipe down if I were you.’
He smiled down at me. ‘Feeling better now?’
I smiled back. ‘Yes, thank you.’
‘Good to see you’re as much of a shrew as ever,’ he said amiably. ‘But I’m still feeling the urge to be well away from this place.’
No one disagreed. We climbed into the car. And opened the windows.
‘Dear God,’ said Jones. ‘How can one small dog have such a giant smell?’
‘Are you going to keep him?’ I said to Iblis.
He scratched the little dog’s ears and we laughed as his hind leg came up and jerked in time to the scratching. It felt good to laugh. Not one of us was quite as calm and collected as we were pretending.
‘What are you going to call him?’
Iblis considered. ‘He’s brave and resourceful. What is the name of your greatest warrior?’
‘Nigel is the name of our greatest warrior,’ said Jones from the front seat.
‘Nigel, it is,’ said Iblis, who knew perfectly well that it wasn’t. ‘Nigel the Ninja.’
‘Property of Iblis the Idiot,’ said Jones, pouring oil on dying flames because we all needed to see something other than falling stones crushing the life out of people. Or hear their dying screams.
‘Will they rebuild, do you think?’ I asked anxiously.
‘Doubt it,’ said Jerry, starting the car. ‘Oh, someone will have to come along and have a look, but I’m pretty sure they’ll say the stones are obviously unsafe. I expect the Daily Mail will claim they’ve been demolished to make way for a mosque. Although they’ll have to get them two buggers out from underneath, of course. Can’t
leave them just lying there.’ His tone indicated this would be his preferred option.
We reversed into the pub car park and then pulled away. Everyone fell silent. The question none of us were asking. Would we be allowed to leave?
Jones reached over the seat and took my hand. I squeezed it hard. We passed the pub, then the bus stop, then the last cottages, and there he was, The First Man. Right in the middle of the road. Pale in the pale moonlight, his hair and beard matted with blood. Dark wounds on his throat, his abdomen gaping. I couldn’t help it – I drew in my breath with a hiss.
‘What do I do?’ said Jerry, slowing.
‘Drive slowly,’ said Iblis. ‘They know who we are.’ He looked at me as he said it.
I gripped Jones’s hand. Who were we? Who were we actually? There was Jones, the spy. There was Jerry, the thief. There was Iblis, the … I still wasn’t sure what Iblis was. And me – and I didn’t have a clue about me, either.
We had slowed down nearly to a halt. No one said a word. Nigel whimpered a little, though.
I closed my eyes. What would our life be like here if they wouldn’t let us through? But no sooner had that thought formed than the man stepped aside, out of the headlights. The road was open. I thought he bowed his head as we pulled past him.
‘Go, Jerry,’ said Jones and Jerry needed no encouragement. We were already going. And with more speed than dignity, but, as Jones said afterwards – it was the going that was the important bit.
Chapter Thirty-One
I leaned back and tried to relax, watching the tall hedges flashing past. I saw the eyes of some animal briefly gleaming in the headlights and then, with no effort at all on my part, I knew exactly what was wrong with Iblis’s story.
I sat up sharply. ‘Jerry, please stop the car.’
Jones twisted in his seat. ‘What’s the matter, Cage? Are you hurt?’
‘No. Stop the car.’
Jerry muttered something under his breath and pulled over.
I opened the car door. ‘I need to talk to Iblis. It’s very important.’
Jones twisted in his seat. ‘Now?’
‘Yes.’
He sighed. ‘Don’t go far away, Cage. Stay where I can see you.’
I nodded, not really listening.
Iblis climbed out after me, still clutching Nigel, and we walked a little way from the car, out of the headlights, and stood in the dark. Inside my head, all the pieces gathered together to make a complete picture. And I had to tell him now – right now – so I didn’t give him a chance to speak.
‘Iblis, I’m sorry, I know you don’t want to talk about it, but this is important.’
He narrowed his eyes, his colour beginning to wrap itself around him. ‘All right. What is it?’
I took a breath for courage. ‘Do you remember when we … when we spoke of Allia?’
He nodded and pretended to be interested in stroking Nigel.
I persevered anyway. ‘You told me that after the battle, down on the plain outside the city, when they were burning the Fiori, you saw the flames reflected in her eyes.’
He stood very still for a moment, then looked back over his shoulder at the car. ‘We should …’
‘Just tell me. Did you see the flames reflected in her eyes?’
‘Yes, I did.’
I caught his arm. ‘No, you didn’t.’
Angrily, he pulled it away. ‘I don’t want to …’
I had a feeling I wouldn’t like him when he was angry, and Nigel was baring his horrible yellow teeth at me, but I pushed on anyway, because this was important. ‘No. You didn’t. Think about what you said. You said the flames had died down. That only the ashes remained. How could you have seen leaping flames reflected in her eyes?’
‘But I did. It’s not something I am ever likely to forget.’
‘No. I mean, yes, you’re right. You did see the flames in her eyes but they weren’t a reflection from the bonfires.’ I took another deep breath, aware that my heart was pounding, and made myself speak slowly and calmly. ‘That was her true nature asserting itself, Iblis. She was on the brink of success and she just couldn’t contain herself.’
He stared at me.
I forged on, still clutching his arm. ‘No, don’t pull away. You must listen to me. Allia was a Fiori. She always was. She tricked you.’
He couldn’t take it in. His colour had screeched to a standstill. I think he had stopped breathing. He just stared at me. I don’t know where his mind had gone.
I took another deep breath and watched all the pieces fall gently into place, forming a path to the truth. All I had to do was follow it.
I shook his arm. ‘Iblis, listen to me.’
He refocused. ‘All right. Go on.’
‘She wasn’t the innkeeper’s wife. She was never the innkeeper’s wife. You never saw the innkeeper’s wife. The innkeeper’s wife was probably already dead in the kitchen when you arrived. Or shortly afterwards. The body you found there – the one you assumed was the kitchen maid – the one conveniently without a head so she couldn’t be identified – that was the innkeeper’s wife. You saw Allia in the doorway and you just assumed … Tell me, did you ever see Allia and her husband together? At any time? Did you see her interact with her children? No, you didn’t. Allia took her place and got you out of the way while the other Fiori attacked the inn.’
He was bewildered. ‘But why? It wasn’t important in any way.’
‘She was setting the scene. She was becoming the poor woman who so tragically lost her family. You felt sorry for her. She persuaded you to keep her with you and off the two of you went. In pursuit of the Fiori. But you never caught them, did you? You said yourself – you couldn’t catch them. They were always just ahead of you. Well, who do you think made that happen?’
He shook his head. I think he’d been without hope for so long he couldn’t allow himself. ‘No. This can’t be true.’
I caught his arm again and shook him slightly. Beneath the sleeve of his T-shirt his arm was rock hard. ‘It is, Iblis. Think about it. She was always picking fights. Getting you into trouble. That wasn’t survivor guilt. That was her true nature asserting itself.’
‘But the attack on the city … Hundreds of Fiori died.’
‘The city was never the object. She sacrificed her own people.’
‘So what was the object?’
‘You, Iblis. Well, not you as such – it was your sword she wanted. She seduced you.’
He flinched and Nigel growled at me.
I tried to ignore him. ‘Yes, I’m sorry, but she did. I’m not sure whether that’s better or worse than sleeping with a mortal.’
‘It’s not good,’ he said faintly, ‘but it nowhere near as bad as …’
I pushed on. ‘She seduced you. She knew how you’d react afterwards. She knew you’d avoid her. Everything she did was designed to pile on the guilt. She staged that final scene and just as you were leaving the city she – or more probably an accomplice – threw some poor woman off the walls. She was probably already dead,’ I said quickly, seeing his face. ‘Allia dressed the body in her own clothes and they threw her down the mountainside, knowing she’d be unrecognisable by the time you saw her.’
He turned and took a few steps away from me. Trying to think, I guessed. I wondered if he was too dazed for most of this to go in. Perhaps I could have chosen a better time and place but time was short. I had to tell him. He had suffered for so long.
He turned back to me. ‘But why? This is a long game for a Fiori. They don’t think like that. What was the point?’
‘Your sword, Iblis. That’s what she was after all along. I’m guessing she followed you down through the town, watched your reaction to what you thought was her body tumbling down the mountainside and quietly took your sword the moment you laid it down.’
Slowly, he lowered Nigel to the ground. He was shaking his head. His colour was motionless, which for him was remarkable. The phrase, frozen with shock, sprang to my mind.
He couldn’t take it in. He couldn’t believe what I was telling him. At that moment, I don’t think he wanted to let himself believe it. I would have to be careful. Sometimes good news is as devastating as bad.
‘No, I can’t … Why didn’t she just kill me there and then?’
‘Well, firstly she knew Melek would never rest until she’d avenged your death. She’d follow Allia to the ends of the earth and beyond to revenge herself upon her. You know that.’
He nodded, staring at the ground.
‘And secondly, what would happen if you died? Would you … I don’t know … be replaced?’
‘Probably,’ he said hoarsely, and I could see his colour slowly swirling around him. He was beginning to function again.
‘So she’d be no better off. In fact, your replacement might even be bigger and faster and stronger …’ and waited for him to say he was Iblis and no one was bigger or faster or stronger and I think it was a measure of his distraction that he didn’t.
‘But this way you’re weakened. In fact, both of you are. You said yourself – you took yourself out of the game and Melek tried to carry on without you and it’s too much for one person and the Fiori have been getting away from you ever since. I’m right, Iblis. I know I’m right. Yes, you made a mistake but not the mistake you thought. You were tricked into taking her with you. She seduced you. You weren’t responsible for her being rejected by the women of the city because she was only the wife of an innkeeper. In fact, she probably spread that rumour herself. Iblis, you never slept with a mortal. You weren’t responsible for her death. She didn’t die because of you. She didn’t die at all.’
He was still looking dazed. Now was not the time to discuss the details. I had to ram home the message.
I seized his hands and held them tightly. They were ice cold. ‘Iblis, you’re innocent.’
His face showed nothing but bewilderment. ‘I didn’t sleep with a human?’
I shook my head.
‘All this time I’ve been thinking …’
I shook my head again.
‘I didn’t sleep with a human.’
‘No, you idiot. You slept with a foul, hideous, bloodthirsty, murdering demon.’
