He was the epitome of the city gent, dark blue suit, immaculate white shirt and colorful tie.
“Oh Robert.” She sobbed. “I’m so glad to see you.” She burst into tears and dived into his arms.
“Whoa, what’s wrong?” he asked, pulling her to him, and stroking her hair.
“Its mum and dad, they’re... they’ve been murdered,” Jenny mumbled, tears streaming down her face. She pulled back from him, and covered her mouth with blood smeared hands. She pulled the hands away and stared at them without comprehension.
He gave her an amused look. “What?” he asked.
Jenny pointed to the kitchen. “It’s… It’s so awful, and I think the murderer just left. Did you see anyone as you drove in?”
Robert shook his head and regarded Jenny with a quizzical smile, holding her gaze as if he expected a joke. When she did not laugh, his smile faded. “Wait here. I’ll have a quick look.” As he turned away, he said in a slightly less confident manner, “Just wait here.”
Jenny watched him disappear into the kitchen and tried to understand what had happened. In her mind, she saw the scene, her bloodied and broken parents. There was blood on the walls, the floor, and the smell, the subtle hint of copper clogged her throat and made her stomach turn. She pulled her thoughts back to the message. It must have taken her mom considerable effort to write and was probably her last effort. But Simon?
Simon would be her first suspect. He’d always been a weird one, arguing with her dad, competing with him, so why would her mom send her to Simon. She knew her father did not trust him that something had happened and even though mom trusted him, dad did not. Was this why? He was also the only person she knew who was powerful enough to stand up to her father.
She raised her hands and looked at them, stunned. They were smeared with blood and shaking. She wiped them on her black jeans. The material felt rough and hard, stiff with dry blood. Suddenly she wanted to be home, in the bath. She wanted to scrub her skin till all traces of this were gone. But mostly she just wanted to get out of this house. Tears cut a path through the dried blood on her face as she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.
Rosie nudged against her leg. Jenny looked down into big, brown, sorrowful eyes. The dog leaned her warm solid body against Jenny’s leg, offering support and comfort.
Whilst she fondled the dog’s soft ears, she spotted the phone. “Of course,” she whispered and crossed towards it. She walked as if she were in a daze as if this was a dream. Stretching out her hand, she picked up the phone. Noticing as blood smudged onto the cream plastic. She held it half way to her ear, trying to decide who to call, Simon or the police? She was still stood there, hand outstretched, frozen, when Robert walked back in.
“Who are you calling?” he asked.
“Simon, the police, I don’t know.” Jenny waved the handset vaguely before her.
He walked over and took the receiver from her hand, replacing it with a click back onto the cradle. “First,” he said, “let’s get you out of this place.”
“But mom, dad, we can’t just leave them.” Her voice trailed away as fresh tears threatened to flood her eyes.
“Yes, we can.” Robert’s voice was calm but firm and his face bore a gentle expression of support. “We can’t help them now. It may not be safe here. I’ll call the police from my home.” His eyes were on the kitchen door. “Let’s get you out of here.” Gently, he put a hand on her back and guided her out of the house.
“What about Doris?” Jenny asked, worried that she would discover this?
“Don’t worry, it’s Monday night, the police will be here before she gets back.” Robert’s hand coaxed her gently towards his waiting Mercedes, and for the first time since she walked into the house she felt safe.
“Mum always teased Doris, telling her she would die in this house. Oh, Robert don’t let this happen to her as well.” Jenny stepped into the car as Robert held the door. She sank into a deep and luxurious seat. The car smelt of leather and wood polish, it smelt clean and pleasant.
Robert opened the back door and raised his eyebrows as Rosie jumped onto the white leather back seat of his immaculate Mercedes.
“Don’t you worry about Doris, I promise she won’t die in this house,” he said and walked around to the driver’s door. “I’m sure the killer will be long gone, and the police will be here before Doris gets back. I’ll make sure she’s fine.” He climbed in beside Jenny and closed the door. The solid clunk of the German made door sounded like safety.
Sat in the car, Jenny was hit by a wave of fatigue as the adrenaline rush that had helped her cope finally left her system. She sank further into the leather and felt her eyes start to close.
“What about Simon?” she asked. “Should I call him?”
Robert turned towards her as he maneuvered the large car towards the road. He was a handsome man, in his early fifties, black hair, tall, with strong features though the last few years he had become a little chubby. He smiled at her. “I think your mum wanted you to ring him,” he said, his voice rose making this a question rather than a statement.
“But.”
“Yes,” he said. “There’s always a but. You know I’ve never liked Simon, and neither did your father. How do we know your mum wasn’t coerced into writing that note? Simon would be my first suspect.”
Jenny scrubbed her face with hands still coarse with dried blood. She rubbed them together and flakes of deep dark red dropped to her knees and onto the white leather of the car.
She wanted to scream and to shout out how unfair this was. She wanted to do as her mom asked, but something stopped her. “Mine too,” she said, letting out an exasperated sigh.
“I’ll help you with whatever you want, but for now, let’s get you safe and let the police deal with...” Robert gently squeezed her shoulder as the Mercedes swept them swiftly through the night.
Chapter Five
Doris woke with a start. Where was she? The darkness felt like a grave, desolate, despairing and forever. She choked back her panic and assessed her position. She was tied to something, hard and unyielding it felt like a column behind her. Her ankles were bound, something had rubbed the skin sore, and she could feel it weeping. Her arms were out to either side, so she formed a T. She had never been deeply religious, but the image of Christ on the crucifix came unbidden to her mind. Her wrists screamed with pain, where something had cut deep into the skin. It felt like plastic, tentatively she moved her arms testing. Maybe it was zip ties that held her to the wood, to the cross? Her muscles were knotted and excruciatingly painful and as her mind came fully back to the present terror stabbed a knife into her bowels.
She had to stay calm and pushed against the post. This relieved the pain slightly and gave her a moment to think. The room was lighter now, as her eyes adjusted to the gloom and she found herself staring directly into the eyes of the hell bat. The gargoyle-like creature sat about ten feet away. Its vulture sharp claws clutched a perch, of knotted old wood covered in guano. Its paper wings were tucked out of sight, neatly against its body. As she watched it, the head cocked to one side, like a cute parrot or a puppy about to amaze her with some trick. Its ears rotated like mini radar dishes, listening to the dark cellar. Listening for movement, listening for her?
She eased herself into a more comfortable position. Where was she? How had she got here? She lifted her head and more sharp pain seared her shoulders. A memory of the beast’s talons gripping her shoulder as it had swept her away from Raseby caused fear to douse her in ice. A steely hand seemed to push onto her chest, forcing the air from her lungs and stopped her heart. Paralyzed, she stared at the beast for long moments, the world slowed down to just its eyes, cold, empty merciless eyes. She gasped, forced to draw breath and the spell was broken. The stench of death and decay that came with that breath brought back the present. Panicked, she thrashed against her bonds. Tugging and struggling her arms and legs burned with the effort and groans escaped her lips in increasing vol
ume as she realized the futility of her struggles. She could feel the ties digging into her wrists and ankles, could feel them slicing her skin. Warm blood ran down her skin as she battled futilely against the ties.
At last, exhausted, she stopped, and relaxed back against the post. It felt rough through her thin blouse, scratching her skin. She tried to rest, but the ties cut into her, making it impossible to gain any real comfort
The bat appeared to be watching, yet its eyes were covered with some kind of film. Was it blind? She remembered reading somewhere that bats can see, but then did the normal laws of nature apply to this hideous creature?
Its nose and mouth were shaped like a large rodent’s, wicked teeth exposed as it tasted the air. Wrinkling its nose and lips, it sniffed towards her. The ground beneath it was covered in its droppings. Something was moving on that vile smelling mound. The whole pile looked like a heap of constantly moving insects. Doris shuddered with revulsion and looked away.
She scanned the room, tears formed in her eyes, tears of grief, fear, and frustration. The room appeared to be a cellar, mostly dark with just a little light coming from one side, possibly from a window. The light was enough for her to see basic shapes now that her eyes had adjusted to the gloom. Was it a window and was that how they got in here? The hell bat watched her, but even when she struggled, it didn’t attempt to move or attack. It just sat there guarding?
She noticed signs marked on the plain concrete floor. She could not make out what they meant, but knew they were for rituals. The room contained very little in the way of furnishings, just a large ornate desk to her left, with a plush wooden chair. It had a curved top like a captain’s chair, its seat upholstered in red velvet. The desk was covered with books. She could not make them out in the dark, but assumed they were magic texts. Scanning around to the right, she saw more equipment, bars and chains, as if the room were some bizarre gym that was being used as a torture chamber. And further round still was another desk, behind it hung a strangely ominous pentagram.
It was not a desk, she realized, but an altar. Even in the shadows it looked sinister and yet it commanded attention. Matt black marble covered with a deep red cloth. At each side a large black candle stood unlit. In the centre a book was open on an ornate stand. In front of the book a wickedly curved dagger glinted as if light was shining directly on to it. The Pentagram above it was approximately eight feet across. Painted in a dark red on a coal black background, it seemed to shimmer and pull the meager light towards it. It dominated the altar.
Doris shuddered. The thought that she may be sacrificed on that alter had her reeling with panic. She bit down hard, to control her tears, and closed her eyes, forcing herself to be calm. Breathe, she thought. Breathe deep and slow, and calm yourself. Then she laughed, the noise was loud and desperate, it echoed in the desolate room. She had never believed in all that self help crap, but right now panic was her worst enemy. If she could stay alive, there was hope. Of that she did believe.
She continued to scan the room, looking for clues, for anything that she could use to free herself or at least to get some form of advantage. In front of her and to the left was a staircase, she could only just make it out in the gloom. The steps rose steeply, disappearing into murky shadows.
Directly in front of her she noticed a metal grate on the floor. It was shaped like the pentagram and was about fifteen feet across and highly ornate. The metal was proud off the concrete by about an inch. It looked like a cover, as if something was beneath it. She shuddered again as if an icy hand pulled her towards that sinister cover and to what lay beneath.
The metal was pewter colored, carved with runes and symbols. Looking at it, she felt a primordial fear. Malevolence emanated from it, and now she knew it was not the altar, but the pit beneath that door that would be her fate. What terror lurked beneath, what torture had he planned for her this time?
Leaning back, she closed her eyes tightly and took the pressure from her shoulders. She sighed. Her arms, neck and shoulders felt as if they have been beaten with a hammer. Her muscles screamed with pain, and the fatigue made it hard for her to concentrate. She relaxed as much as she could, and just for a little while leant back against the pole, resting.
A metallic rasp sent splinters of shock up and down her body. Her eyes instantly opened. What had changed, what made that noise? Slowly, cautiously she released her breath and searched the cellar. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She could see nothing different, so what had woken her?
Another hiss in the dark.
Doris stared at the seal. Was this where the noise had come from? It was about ten feet away, directly in front of her. Inside the pentagram shape was a circle and this was further divided into eight triangles, the points meeting in the middle. She watched as each of the segments began to crack open. Pressure seemed to break a seal between the triangles, and a popping noise ran round the circle. This was followed by mist, which emerged from the edges of each of those triangular metal plates.
Hearing the noise, the hell bat spread out its wings and stretched on its perch, cawing out its excitement. Its rat-like head extended on a scrawny neck and waved from side to side as it bobbed up and down. Excitement showed in its features, and a fresh stream of drool appeared, glistening from its hideous teeth.
Doris eyed the beast warily. Would it attack her now? It seemed more interested in the opening seal than her. Its head weaved back and forth in the direction of the seal, neck extended down as if it was looking at the floor. Doris felt her own eyes drawn back to the noise.
Mist rose steadily from breaks between each segment, leaching into the room and somehow bringing with it a little light. This allowed her to watch as the triangular compartments rose one by one. Pop and the first compartment sprang open. It was the one at the top of the pentagram, directly opposite her. As it opened, it sprang back with immense force and bounced slightly before settling in an upright position. Doris held back a scream, all her muscles tensed and readied themselves as she expected some beast to leap out and attach her. She waited, breath held, but nothing emerged. Time seemed to freeze as she waited. Just mist and light seeped out from the grate. At last, she gasped and began to breathe again.
Doris watched as light and mist emerged from beneath the seal it crept upwards with a life of its own. She could feel its presence as it slid from the pit like a snake, rising into a column. It appeared to be looking around as if charmed from its basket, searching for someone to bite. It turned towards her, slowly, pausing ready to strike. Then it spread out and rushed forwards, covering the ground with a blanket of luminescence that seeped from the bowels of the earth and slithered ever closer.
Then pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop. One by one the seals jumped open, and came to rest pointing upwards. And as each segment jolted open, Doris’s muscles spasmed, causing her bonds to dig further into her wrists. The pain was welcome as it grounded her, and stopped her from falling into madness.
The mist speeded up its exit from the hole, rushing now, and spreading outwards, but only towards Doris.
It slid over the steel and across the concrete floor, gathering beneath the steps, before climbing towards her. Like a silken sheet it rose up the steps and then it fanned out, surrounding her, keeping a foot or so of distance between itself and her feet. It formed a circle of mist all around her like an army preparing to sack a castle.
The hell bat continued its bobbing, up and down and side to side, its glassy eyes were now on Doris and the advancing mist.
A two foot high diffuse cloud of hate surrounded her, it waited. She could feel its presence. The room seemed colder, damper, and there was pressure buzzing in the air and a shortness of oxygen.
“Keep away from me,” Doris shouted, renewing her struggle, fuelled by fear and desperation.
“Why, damn it? Why? Why?” she screamed at the mist.
“Oh Doris, very dramatic.” The Numen walked towards her, calm and arrogant. As he approached, the mist bowed down like a beat
en dog. It cowered to either side of him, leaving a gap for him to saunter down. His step was jaunty. His smug face beamed a huge smile.
“I just wanted to check that you were comfortable. Your stay with us won’t be long, but if there’s anything I can get you, let me know. Champagne and strawberries, an interview with the pope, or maybe a pain free death. Nothing’s too good for my Doris.”
He paused and smiled at the hell bat. “Oh, sorry that last one may be difficult.” He reached out and gently stroked her cheek, smiling like the perfect host.
Doris tossed her head violently and spat at him, scoring a lucky hit just above his left eye.
“Oh Doris, come now,” he said. His hand shot out and grabbed her throat. He tightened his grip, crushing her windpipe, squeezing the breath from her struggling form. Moving in close, he kissed her cheek. “That’s not very friendly.”
Doris’s throat ached as she gasped for air. The breath that preceded him smelt of dirt, decay and the river bottom. She spluttered, choking, and her face turned from red to blue as she started to lose consciousness. He gave one final squeeze and let go, pushing her backwards as he did. Her head hit the wooden post hard. More pain surged through her, shocking her as she struggled for breath.
“Don’t worry, Doris. For now, you’re useful.” He rubbed the spittle from his eye, wiped it on her blouse, then turned and stalked out of the room. The mist closed back around her, as he left. It slid towards her, across the ground with a hunger of its own. As he departed, a sigh issued forth from the hole in the seal, the sigh of a sleeping beast waking, with anticipation of the meal ahead.
Chapter Six
Jenny’s eyes were heavy. They fought to stay closed as she struggled to keep them open. She needed to stay alert, yet the gentle gliding of the Mercedes teased her with sleep as it whisked them through the night. The car was a warm and cozy cocoon. The gentle heat it exuded seeped into her bones and chased away the chill. Guilt jerked her back awake, how could she even think of sleep when her parents lay murdered. A greasy coating seemed to line her stomach and she had to fight down the urge to vomit.
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