Jenny laughed at her own paranoia and inched open the door. The hall light was out, and all she could see was washed oak doors, beige walls and lush coco colored carpet. The walls were hung with family portraits of Robert, Sophie, and the kids. All looked quiet and normal. Rosie sneaked her head into the crack in the door and sniffed.
BANG. Jenny jumped backwards and slammed the door shut. Her legs tangled in the dog behind her and she went down. Her heart hammered, her arms hit the floor, jarring her and causing her to cry out in pain. She sat there nerves jangling, expecting something to come at her through the door. Turning onto her knees, she hugged Rosie, using the dog to lever herself back upright. Rosie had stopped growling and stood between her mistress and the door.
Jenny stood and rubbed her hands and wrists to relieve the pain. The door inched open and Rosie leapt forward, barking viciously. The quiet, mild mannered dog flew at the door. She was thirty kilos of fury. Jenny screamed with shock and leapt backwards, looking for a weapon.
Robert’s head popped around the door.
“No, Rosie wait,” she shouted, the dog hesitated, then stopped, her growl starting over, her hackles raised and her eyes warning Robert not to move.
Jenny felt a rush of relief flood her body with warmth and mild embarrassment, she walked up and grabbed Rosie's collar. “Come here, idiot, it’s just Robert.” She mocked and pulled Rosie back. “On your bed.” Rosie turned and jumped nimbly onto the bed. She circled on her blanket and then grudgingly lay down. But her eyes were alert, her body tense and she still growled deep and low.
“Sorry, Robert, come in. We just got a bit spooked.”
Robert peeked further into the room, keeping Jenny between himself and the dog. He eyed her with suspicion and made sure that he had a clear exit in case she moved. He was wearing a black silk night gown and blue slippers, his face flushed. “I heard you scream is everything ok?”
“Yes, we heard banging. It made me jump and I fell over Rosie. We were just going to investigate, scared someone might be here.”
Robert smiled. “Sorry, it’s my fault. The garage window bangs when it’s windy and I forget to close it. I’ve just done it now. You two go back to sleep.” He turned to leave, keeping a wary eye on Rosie, who still grumbled deep in her chest. “Goodnight,” he called as he closed the door behind him.
“Goodnight,” Jenny said and crawled back on the bed with Rosie. “What’s up with you pooch? We need to be nice to Uncle Robert.” Jenny hugged her close. “We’re safe here, Rosie. No one knows where we are.” Rosie’s hard muscular body continued to shake as Jenny hugged her close, but whether it was with fear or anger, she did not know?
Hugging Rosie tight, Jenny allowed sleep to drag her back into its comfortable arms. She was safe, at least for now.
Chapter Ten
Doris screamed herself awake. She was back in the nightmare of the Numen’s office, and fear rushed into meet her. She tensed her muscles and struggled against the invisible force that held her horizontal before him. She pushed, with her legs, her arms, even her chest, but nothing happened. She could not move. Tears of fear and frustration filled her eyes. The more she pushed, the more the pressure built against her. Her lungs ached, her chest was being squeezed and her throat was raw. The tears burst through the dam of her eyelashes and slid slowly down her cheeks, cooling her skin with their passage. The constraints against her body increased. She shook her head, trying to clear the dizziness, but her head did not move and pressure squeezed her skull to bursting point. Pain was building in her lungs, hysteria clawed its way in with it and threatened to engulf her.
“Siste.” The voice was inside her head, somehow she knew it meant stop. She relaxed, though still afraid, her muscles loosened and the panic subsided a little.
“I don’t wish to kill you. It’s way too messy. And I would just have to go out and find someone new,” the Numen said inside her mind. “Relax and this will soon be over.”
She was trapped inside her own body, unable to prevent what was happening. What had happened? It all came back to her, the Numen’s deceit, bringing her here. How long had she been unconscious? What had he done to her, what had she missed?
She met his eyes as he stood there between her legs, a boyish grin of wonder on his face. She was held on some unseen platform. Held there by his will? What had happened, whilst she slept? The thought tugged at her mind like a drowning man would tug at a safety line. What had he done to her? A shudder of revulsion slid down her spine, but still her traitorous body refused to move.
He grinned, staring down at her body. He seemed to drink in her nakedness. No, she could not stand this. Her legs ached, her back ached, and her muscles cramped with stress. Her lungs and throat were raw from struggling to take in breath, but her private parts felt untouched. The questions clawed its way into her mind. Had he raped her? His trousers were fastened, all seemed to be in place. She would know, wouldn’t she? Would feel sore or pain?
He leant against her, pushing at her groin. The rough material of his trousers scratched her delicate skin.
Winking, he lunged over her. Bending from the waist, like an exhausted lover, he dropped onto her chest. The touch of skin on skin, supposedly the most sensual of touches, caused her to scream inside her mind. She screamed, shouted and beat at him, but all the time she remained a statue.
He raised upright. His eyes were completely white, as if rolled back into his skull, unseeing. He bent over again, his head resting between her breasts, coarse hair rubbed against her skin. His breath was faster now. Hot and wet on her skin, as saliva sprayed her with each exhalation.
Doris shook as palpitations coursed through her. Panic well and truly took over, but still her body betrayed her, by refusing to move.
He shook his head side to side across her body, his hair caressing her as he moved from left to right. He started to chant. She could not tell if it was Latin, could not understand the words. His head continued shaking, side to side across her body, his chant more and more animated. He stopped, bent over her. His head rested between her breasts, warm and clammy. Sweat dripped from him onto her skin. The feel of the liquid as it dripped disgusted her. It was warm and sticky. It slid from her chest, across her ribs and dripped down to join the wine and tears on the carpet below.
Her terror was intensified, but at the same time she felt calm, she was giving in to her fate. His head was on her chest, saliva dripped onto her skin. Her mind broke the chains of despair, she would not take this. She fought inside her head, but as the pain increased she calmed herself, she would beat him.
He raised his head and slowly stood upright, his face sneered with derision. His left hand reached inside his jacket. With almost theatrical flair he pulled his hand out to reveal a rowan wand.
Doris recognized it; she had seen her employers use one similar. An eighteen inch narrow rod cut from a tree blessed by the divinity you worshipped. The Rowan tree itself was a powerful magic force. The red berries which so brightened frosty autumn, contained a pentagram where they joined to the stalk. It had been long used in magic. But was it for good or evil? She searched her memory. Rowan, usually a sign of good magic, but could be used for gaining personal power and success.
The Numen stood between her legs, his eyes remained all white. He waved the wand across her, mumbling as he did so. The first pain was sharp, between her breasts like a knife forced through her skin, and then drawn down. Involuntarily, she tried to shout, tried to reach the wound. She watched in horror as blood appeared between her breasts, followed by more blood further down. The pain grew as he stood there the wand pointed at her, his eyes rolled back, sweat dripped from his face. She watched amazed as a drop formed on his nose and fell down, down only to splash on her side, chilling her as it rolled off her skin to drip onto the floor.
The cuts continued each proceeded by intense pain and finished with a bloody wound. They crisscrossed down her body in a symmetrical pattern from her breasts to her navel. Each cut felt deep
in her skin, followed by the letting of blood until an intricate pattern had been formed. Her body was covered in blood. Some ran down her sides and spilled onto the carpet. More formed a pool in her belly button. As hysteria tried to take her, she thought, in places it tickles. She was getting close to breaking when his eyes returned to normal, and he smiled down at his handy work. “Oh, Doris, you look so beautiful. Now let me clean you up before we send you on your way.”
He leaned forward, a wicked glint in his eyes. Bending over, he held her gaze with his until his head was between her breasts. Then he stuck out his tongue and started to lick off the blood. With slow sensual strokes, he cleaned her up, his tongue hot and rough on her cold skin. It seemed reptilian, she thought as she screamed inside her private prison. Slowly, he wiped the blood, from the pit beneath her breasts. Licking around her right breast and up to her nipple, he bit it hard. The pain was sharp and personal. She screamed in her mind. He let go and slid his tongue down across her stomach. Licking her flanks, where the blood had run, he noisily sucked at the little puddle deep within her belly button.
Standing, blood dripping from his face, he waved the Rowan wand again and said. “Speak of this only to me. By the power of Aldona, I freeze your tongue.”
He giggled, stepped back and placed the wand back inside his jacket. Then he clapped his hands.
Doris fell onto the carpet with a bump that sent shockwaves of pain up her spine. She lay there for a second before the realization that she could move hit her. She jumped up and flew at him, shrieking her rage. As she covered the ground between them, he stood calm and condescending. Just before she reached him he held out his hand and shouted, “Siste.”
She stopped as if she had hit a wall, and was thrown back onto the carpet, bumping her hip badly.
“Get dressed, Doris. Let’s take you home.” He turned his back on her, covering his eyes with a mock chivalry.
“You’re letting me go?” she asked, her shoulders slumped in defeat and disbelief.
“Yes, you will be unable to communicate any of this to anyone, ever, and by tomorrow your body will bear my mark. That mark will give me power. For now the power of wealth from a blood sacrifice. But one day, who knows? I may need a bigger sacrifice and one who bears the mark of Aldona is a powerful gift. To do this under Alex’s nose is… Well, a delicious treat.”
True to his word, he let her go, and every time she tried to tell someone what happened, she told the story of a nice but boring night out, with a boy she would not see again. It was freaky, and she felt lonely and betrayed. The mark had appeared by morning, a tattoo of a Celtic band, drawn from between her breasts to her navel. The Celtic symbols crisscrossed between her breasts and down her stomach, and within the pattern was a figure of eight. Entwined within the symbol for eternity was a serpent, its head pointing outwards between her breasts, its left eye closed in a wink. This was apparent on her skin, when she woke the next morning, wondering if it had been a bad dream. But it had taken three weeks for the cuts to heal.
She had never been able to talk about it or even write it down, had never even been able to show anyone the mark. She had felt the need to be polite to him, whenever he visited the house. She had never dated again. Apart from the tattoo, her other lasting memory had been violent nightmares in which he raped and abused her, laughing, and smiling as he did so. He stood between her legs, pounding into her sore bruised body, and always when he withdrew -- his penis was that snake. It would rise up and wink at her before disappearing back into his trousers. The zip of his fly would do itself up as she watched.
Chapter Eleven
A gentle knock roused Jenny from deep sleep. She glanced at her wrist, through eyes sore and bleary from the previous night’s tears. A gasp passed her lips as her watch showed eleven o’clock. Clearing her throat, she managed a weak, “Yes.”
“Would you like a cup of tea?” Robert asked as he poked his bright and cheery face around the door.
“Oh, yes, please. I can’t believe I slept in this late,” she replied, pulling the covers tight up to her shoulders. Rosie watched Robert alert and wary, but quietly, from the bed. “I’ll be up in a minute, so I’ll come down for it.”
“Okay. You look tired, kid.” He smiled, and then disappeared behind the door.
Jenny walked into the kitchen, tired, confused and still close to tears. She ran a hand through her hair and wandered aimlessly to the table. Rosie walked slowly behind her mistress, her own head down as if she too was grieving. Jenny scanned the room. All seemed normal; sunlight peeked through a wooden blind, lighting up the modern and usually spotless kitchen. The surfaces, however, looked a little bedraggled as Robert prepared breakfast. He whipped round in front of her and placed a plate on the table, pointing for her to take a seat with a wooden spatula, a chunk of egg dropped from the implement to land on the stone floor. Rosie trotted over and scoffed down the egg before Robert could even bend. He shrugged his shoulders and turned back to the side, a slight grin on his face.
Sitting down Jenny, picked up the comforting tea from the wooden table and watched. Robert was a bustle of activity, cups and plates on the side and in front of him. He tipped scrambled eggs onto another plate before joining her at the table.
Jenny looked down at her own plate of eggs and a glass of orange juice sat neatly at their side. Robert had tried so hard. The thought warmed her. She eyed the food, and her stomach churned. “Sorry Robert, but I think Rosie will have to eat the eggs.”
“You should eat something.”
“No. I feel sick to my stomach. Have you heard anything yet?” She took the plate, and scraped the eggs into Rosie’s dish. The dog trotted over, and hungrily wolfed down the food, wagging her stump of a tail appreciatively.
“I’ve had a phone call from a Detective Somway,” Robert said. “Doris is fine, but they took her in for questioning and for now they don’t need to see you.”
“I’m so glad Doris is ok. Mum used to tell her she would die in that house, as a form of support. She meant it to mean she was one of the family. It felt like a cruel joke yesterday.”
“Well, one thing I can promise you,” Robert’s smile deepened, “Doris is not going to die in Raseby Manor. It’s over and you’re safe now.” He patted Jenny’s shoulder before continuing.
“The police think it was a rival thing, between your dad and another in the business. I gave them a list of who it could be… Sorry to say Simon tops that list.”
“Yeah, I know. I still think I have to call him, just to see what he says. If I don’t tell him where I am, it will be safe won’t it?” Jenny took a sip of the tea and sighed as the hot liquid filled her with a moment’s malty comfort.
“I don’t know, can’t he do some kind of location spell?”
“Only if you believe any of this magic stuff is real. What did the police say about that?”
Robert coughed, an embarrassed look flashed across his usually calm features. “Well, they sort of said it was all nonsense. They don’t believe it was magic, just plain common old garden murder, motivated by greed.”
“Can I speak to Doris? Did he leave a number?” Jenny asked.
“No, he told me she would be out of commission for a few days. They want to...” He hesitated and looked across at Jenny, reading her reaction or offering sympathy she could not tell which. “They want to question her. It appears she had some trouble in her past.”
“What? They can’t think Doris could have anything to do with this?”
“It’s just police procedure, nothing to worry about. For now you’re my worry, so let’s get you past thirty before we think about anything else.”
He coughed again before looking her straight in the eyes, his voice soothing, “I’m sorry, Jenny, but the funerals will have to wait a while too. The police will let us know when they can release the bodies. But don’t you worry. I’m going to take care of all that for you.” Robert reached out to hold Jenny’s hand before tucking into his own breakfast.
/> ***
Jenny stared at the screen. Robert had been kind enough to retrieve her belongings from her car. She had clothes and her laptop and Rosie’s food and dishes. And she had work to do. Robert had made her a make shift desk in the corner of the bedroom and left her in peace to work. Orders needed processing for her online business, but she kept staring at the screen and seeing nothing, or worse the scene at Raseby. Nothing made sense. She stopped again and rubbed away the tears that made the computer screen unreadable. She had intended to do something, to keep her mind busy, but she could not seem to concentrate. The screen buzzed in front of her. The electronic hum seemed like a storm. She looked round the pleasant room, feeling caged and not knowing what to do. For a second, she saw herself hurl the laptop at the wall, wanting to smash it. She bit down hard on her lip. Losing control would help no one.
Rosie whined at her side and pushed her cold nose under Jenny’s arm. Now that she had Jenny’s attention, the dog rolled over exposing, her white silky belly for a stroke. “Oh, come here pooch,” Jenny said, getting down on her hands and knees and rubbing the dog’s tummy. The feel of the warm coat as smooth as velvet was wonderfully comforting. Rosie’s eyes rolled back in delight and her huge Boxer jowls flopped open, exposing pink gums and long teeth. Pushing her face down to the dog’s belly, Jenny closed her eyes and hugged the big soft creature.
Squeak, Squeak, the ring of her mobile startled her. Jenny laughed, standing to retrieve it from her bag. The ring tone was a recording of Rosie squeaking a rubber toy. It always made her giggle. Picking up the phone, she recognized the number. Simon. A pain, like a fist landed deep in her chest. Why was he ringing her? Did he know what happened? And if so, how? Was he the killer? Was he trying to find her, to take her for his own power?
The phone continued to squeak, getting louder and louder. Jenny placed it to her ear and pressed connect. “Hello?”
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