Tanners Dell: Darkly Disturbing Occult Horror

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Tanners Dell: Darkly Disturbing Occult Horror Page 21

by Sarah England


  Toby shook his head and poured another glass of toxic brew. “No, not revenge. Justice.”

  Five pairs of black eyes glittered dangerously.

  “Jes, you said you’d been to see Ruby. How did that go?”

  “Yeah, well she got upset because we talked about her daughter – as you know it was news to me – but another of her personalities stepped in and told me a lot of stuff that stacks up. She remembers watching Ida bottle up her tricks: she takes stuff like hair, nails, blood or even a used condom and maybe whatever that person’s guilty secret is, like alcohol or cigarettes…then she’ll add a little cocktail of razors and wolfsbane, hemlock, arsenic, belladonna, all nice things…and invoke a curse. The group will then work on their chosen target from a distance and call up demons. It sounds like a load of bollocks but when you realise just how many of our people or people in that village died or had a hideous accident, it’s pretty fucking real. And when you’ve got a local doctor who signs off the deaths as perfectly reasonable and a vicar who endorses it, you get the picture. The witch herself goes after pregnant women or the new-born, which probably explains all those unmarked graves there used to be in the cemetery. Did you know about those?”

  Toby nodded. “It’s in the diary I told you about – the one the social worker kept during the nineties – she collapsed and died of a brain haemorrhage shortly after finding them. The police didn’t have any of this on their records at all.”

  Jes stared at him for a moment. “You do surprise me! There aren’t any unmarked graves there now, though - they moved the bodies.”

  “Where to?”

  Some of the body parts were put in boxes and kept in the caravans but mostly they were transferred, we think to underneath Tanners Dell – there’s a whole labyrinth under there. Ruby, or Marie I should say, saw them digging inside the abbey ruins so we think there will be the skeletons of dozens if not hundreds of children, babies and premature births underneath the grounds of the abbey.”

  Toby stared at him for a full minute while the impact of this sunk in. “We can get them on this. You lot up for a New Year raid?”

  ***

  Several hours later he hailed a taxi on the high street and left the car where it was. No matter how many sheets to the wind he was, there was no way was he spending the night on a sofa sandwiched between a couple of hairy-arsed, rough neck blokes snoring and stinking of home-brew.

  His mobile woke him with a jolt just as the taxi driver was asking for cash. For a good few seconds he had no idea where he was, then he felt around in his pockets and paid the guy, stumbling into the icy midnight air and falling into the hallway a few seconds later.

  There were eight messages from Sid Hall all marked as urgent.

  Superintendent Ernest Scutts wanted to see him first thing tomorrow morning. That fact alone would keep him awake for the rest of the night.

  ***

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Thursday 6am

  Toby walked into Ernest Scutt’s office and took a seat opposite the chief superintendent. Outside it was still dark and his head pounded in the unnatural glare of fluorescent-lighting. By rights he should be in bed nursing the mother of all hangovers.

  Scutts sat staring at him for so long the atmosphere became seriously uncomfortable. Anyone else and he’d have asked what the hell they wanted because he wasn’t in the mood. Instead, he held the man’s gaze until his eyeballs burned. Scutts was not an easy man to look at. His nose twisted half way down the bone either from a break that hadn’t been reset properly or an unfortunate genetic inheritance; either way he was pug ugly with a protruding jaw that exposed only the lower set of teeth when he talked. A heavy set man with a ruddy complexion, he also exuded a toxic odour of uric acid and stale alcohol, and something else, something indefinable. Not attractive to women, Toby thought, while his mind raced to think what Scutts had on him.

  Someone saw me and Becky in Bridesmoor… someone who went to the police… or straight to Scutts.

  Eventually Scutts said, “A lady you went to visit yesterday is dead, DC Harbour. Cora Dean. What can you tell me about that?”

  The effect was like a slap. “Dead?”

  Scutts read from the paperwork in front of him. “Dosed herself up, put a plastic bag over her head and tied a cord around it before hanging herself from the rafters.” He looked up. “Any comment? Any light you can shed on the matter?”

  God, he was going to be sick. “I…I mean, all that happened was…” The words swam in his head and for the first time since school he was stuttering. “We…we…we… only asked her some questions about h…h…her—”

  “Just tell me the fucking truth,” the other man snapped.

  “I am! I was trying to help a friend. She’s a nurse and she’s—”

  “I know who she is.”

  He was a schoolboy back in the headmaster’s office waiting for his parents to arrive. “Sir, I—”

  Scutts leapt from his chair, rounding the desk in a less than a second. “Don’t ‘sir’ me!” He gripped both of Toby’s shoulders and shouted into his face. “Now listen and listen good, you little shit.”

  Whoa! Scutts’ breath was rank with halitosis. He was going to be sick – a ball of acid was rising up so fast he had to swallow repeatedly to stop it.

  “You do not ever, and I repeat, ever, go to Bridesmoor or Woodsend again. The case there is closed. A woman is now dead. There is no case and no reason for you to go, understand? If you disobey me you will find yourself removed from this force and not a soul will help you.”

  Fear pumped into his veins until they felt like they’d explode. Names of officers who had simply vanished, or been transferred to another division in another part of the country without a word of good-bye, all replayed in his head. It was like suddenly seeing a picture the other way round and realising this was the real one. How the hell did this bloke get away with it? Unless there were others like him, here in the force, in this building, men he worked with every day?

  Scutts leaned in yet closer, the stench of excreta on his breath making him gag. Toby tried to avert his head, stunned at the words being spat into the side of his face. “Desist immediately or you will be terminated. Don’t think you can do a thing behind my back because I will know. You are being most seriously warned, you little prick. Stay out of what you know nothing about. That cock and bull story about helping DI Ross’ partner is a pile of shit. It is not her business and it is not yours. Now back off.”

  Toby nodded.

  “Now get about your official business and know you are being watched every minute of every day. You will not be able to take a piss without I know what colour it was and how much you passed. Understand?”

  He nodded again until finally the other man stood back, skin the colour of beetroot as he wiped a line of spittle from his chin. He started to turn away and Toby’s muscles relaxed a fraction. Then without warning Scutts drew back his fist and crashed it across Toby skull so hard the room span and he fell to the floor.

  “Whoops,” said Scutt. “Whoops-a-daisy.”

  ***

  He came round half an hour later to find himself level with a ceramic toilet basin.

  Hands were turning him over and a face swam woozily into his. “I heard you had a bit of a fight last night, mate? No wonder you’re not feeling too good. Anyway, get a wiggle on – we’ve got a job to go to.”

  The sickly ache in his left temple half-blinded him when he tried to stand; the walls collapsing inwards as he staggered over to the wash basins and leaned over. Swaying, he gripped the porcelain rim. Heat rushed into his face and then his stomach expelled its contents in a bilious torrent that left his eyes streaming.

  “You stink of whisky,” said the cheery voice. “Shall we get some coffee and a doughnut? You’d feel better for it – sugar’s what you need. It’s low blood sugar that makes you feel so bad after a binge, did you know? And dehydration.”

  This was surreal. Who the fuck was this bloke?
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  Turning on the cold tap he splashed water onto his face, gulping from the stream before attempting to turn round and look. The instant he did so a wave of black-out pain caused him to stagger backwards and he held onto the sink to stop himself from falling.

  “Dear me,” said the other man. “We are in a state, aren’t we? If I could offer you some advice? Personally I find it best not to go out drinking and brawling the night before a shift, but each to their own.”

  He’s really getting on my tits now. Who the fuck is he, anyway? Have I seen him before, like ever?

  With a herculean effort he held tightly onto the side of the sink unit and determinedly looked over his shoulder. The man, in his early thirties and clean shaven, smiled at him with an ice-blue stare and bared a row of tiny sharp teeth.

  How in hell will I get in touch with Becky today with this bastard on my case?

  “I can’t work,” he said. “I’m going home.”

  The other guy frowned. “No, no, no… Sorry you can’t do that. Scutts’ orders.”

  “I’m going off sick and there’s nothing you can do about it, mate. If you like you can stake out the house all day but I am going home.”

  Lunging for the door it swung into his face alarmingly and he fell back, reached for it, missed, then tried again, and finally lurched into the corridor. Okay, so he was still on the top floor. Gut instinct told him to take the staircase not the lift so he zig-zagged towards it, grabbing hold of the rail before half-falling down the stairs with the other officer still in pursuit.

  The moment the front desk came into view he shouted ahead. “I need a taxi to get me home. It’s urgent – I’m really sick, gonna collapse.”

  The desk officer waved his acknowledgement and picked up the phone while Toby slumped onto a seat in the waiting area between an angry woman in a tracksuit and a pissed-off looking woman in a raincoat.

  His heart was hammering. This was dangerous. They weren’t going to let him just disappear, were they? Shit, how was it going to work out now? And what if his place was already bugged? He thought fast. Okay, right, best to check into a local hotel and get the car back from there. He’d call his mate, Mitch – the guy owed him big time – and get him to leave it round the back with the keys at reception. Nobody stalking him out would know it had happened. One way or another it was vital to speak to Becky and Jes as soon as possible, though, or Friday wasn’t going to happen.

  ***

  A mobile phone wasn’t safe when your archenemy was a detective, nor was being driven to your destination in a taxi booked by the police service. Through a fog of pain he begged his mind to work properly. He had to keep his wits.

  “Can you just drop me here, mate?” he shouted to the driver, bunging him a fiver. The high street was busy with the sales and he jumped out, merging adeptly into the crowds before finding one of the very few remaining phone boxes that worked; and from there he called Mitch.

  Mitch had run into a whole lot of trouble in his teens stealing cars and dealing crack, but as lads growing up together on a rough housing estate they had always watched each other’s backs and he’d trust him with his life. All he had to do was say what he needed and it would be done – some cash, a pay-as-you-go phone, and the car left as instructed inside the hour. After speaking to Mitch he took some of the short cuts he’d discovered as a truant teen and dodged through shops and back alleys until he found the hotel he wanted – one frequented by older people and families that offered well-priced Sunday lunches, and would be one of the last places a person would look for a single man in his twenties.

  There was a room available on the top floor and an hour and a half later he was on the pay-as-you-go phone to Becky with the car parked out back. The paracetamol he’d bought en-route was just beginning to take the worst of the pain off, leaving the dull ache of concussion as he lay on the bed with a cold flannel on his forehead. “Becky, we’re in deep shit,” he said.

  She listened while he related the news.

  “You still there?”

  “Oh my God, Toby.”

  “Becky, this has to happen now, and it has to happen as planned or we won’t get another chance. I’m fucked anyway.”

  “No, you’re not. We can and will do this.”

  “There’s no ‘we’. You have to stay with Callum. He’s in a massive amount of danger and you need to be there. I’m organising something right now – there will be enough of us and we’ll catch them in the act, I promise. I’ll phone you back later but you have to stay there, do you promise?”

  “I have to tell you something too, Toby. Noel’s in Leeds Infirmary. He lost the use of his legs after being involved in Kristy’s exorcism last night.”

  “Exorcism? Shit, this just gets worse.”

  “She’s a lot better apparently – it worked. She was crying and insisted on leaving in the same ambulance as Noel and Harry. And I’m afraid that Michael died, which I guess everyone expected. I’m really upset about it because if it wasn’t for him it could have been me in Laurel Lawns too.”

  “Ah, that’s bad news. I’m really sorry.”

  “Yes, yes it is, it’s lousy. How many more? We’re all being destroyed!”

  “At least Kristy is better. And you didn’t go under, Becky, you survived and so has she.”

  “Yes, I suppose. I just rang and they said Kristy will probably be transferred to a ward this afternoon, and they’ve managed to track down her ex-husband. He’s coming to see her, which I’m glad about – she was very much on her own in life, I didn’t realise. Apparently Crispin Morrow is hopping mad this happened on his day off and he’s demanding the clinic sue the priest who did the exorcism; and Noel, and Nora. She’s off duty today but I rang to ask how it went and she told me everything. She’s scared half to death and convinced she’ll lose her job because of it.”

  “Hang on a minute – sued for saving a patient’s life? How does that work?”

  “For putting her in danger and doing it without his consent, apparently.”

  “Unbelievable. What about Noel? Is he okay now? Was it just shock, do you think?”

  “I don’t know. He had to be carried into the ambulance on a stretcher and this morning he’s having tests. He’s on the neuro ward so I’ll ring again later. I owe him such a lot – I could cry!”

  “This is terrible. What about Callum – how’s he?”

  “Agitated. I’ve told him everything like I always do, but his nerves are jumping around under his skin and his hands are clenching and unclenching. It’s like he wants to be heard, like he wants to surface, but he just can’t.”

  “I wonder if, when all this is over, he’ll wake up?”

  “I hope so. What about you, anyway? You must be in a terrible state? Do you think you should get checked out at the hospital?”

  “No, it were just a nasty slap. I’ll be all right when I’ve rested up a bit. We’re going to have to get this done now, Becky, and fast or it gives them time to second guess us. At the moment we just might have the edge.”

  “I’m truly sorry. I had to ask someone for help and you were the only person I was sure of. I did think twice about it, though. I need you to know that because I knew what was at stake. The thing is, Toby, and this is going to sound wacky, but it’s not just some nasty characters you’ve got to watch out for it’s the black witchcraft…”

  “I know – I got the low down last night.”

  She listened as he related some of the horrific stories he’d heard from Jes and the gypsies. “Yes, well it all fits. My guess is Scutts got his information on Cora first hand from Rick; so the Dean boys will know about our visit as will Ida. Toby, don’t take this lightly – you will now be a target for psychic attack. I’ve had it first-hand and believe me it’s bloody terrifying. You have to watch out for things you won’t believe are happening to you. She sees you!”

  “What do you mean when you say you had it first hand?”

  Becky described what had happened after her accident. �
��It’s been tried again several times recently but this time it didn’t work.”

  “Why? I don’t understand – why not this time? What was different?”

  She related what Celeste had advised. “It works, that’s all I can say.”

  “I can’t do that sort of stuff – it’s bonkers.”

  “So you accept all the stuff about people suddenly becoming ill or blinded, the unusual deaths and bizarre hallucinations; but when it comes to protecting yourself and believing in a higher, divine spirit, it’s bonkers? Well anyway, you might change your mind later when it goes dark and you’re alone in that hotel room.”

  “Oh, great! Thanks for that!”

  “Well… I’ve given you the information and now you have it, so-”

  “Becky, listen – I’ve got to go because I need to make some calls and it’s going to take a while to set up. I’ve got a lot of favours to call in and people who are going to have to believe some crazy stuff. I’ll ring you later but you must stay with Callum. He’s dangerous to them if he wakes up and he’s helpless at the moment.”

  “Yes, of course I will. What about Alice, though?”

  “It’s not your job. Your job is to take care of Callum and keep him safe.”

  “Who have you got coming with you?”

  “Like I said – I’ve got a few calls to make. And there’s Jes and his family. Just trust me and stay there. I’ll ring you when it’s all over.”

  The magnitude of the task ahead hit him after he rang off. There were blokes he’d worked with over the years who would guard another man with their lives – all now in a different force or division – and it was these he had to contact one by one, with each call taking over an hour. Then there were solid friends he’d known since he was a boy. In the end he had a highly-trusted team of twelve; some with firearms licences, some trained fighters and others men who were simply good people compelled to do the right thing.

 

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