He pulled on the handle, but the door did not budge. Just a slight crackle of electricity ran around its edges. Simon had been spiteful enough to lock it magically.
He sat cross-legged on top of the door. His soaked body was chilled by the metal plate, which pressed his wet trousers onto cold skin. He stripped his shirt off and laid it beside him. The mark of Aldona tattooed down his chest began to throb. It was very similar to the one he had forced on Doris. A grin crossed his face, and warmth kissed his skin as he remembered that incident.
The sacrificial knife had been retrieved from his car along with the horn. He held the knife, knowing he had to cut along his tattoo. Spilling the blood of an initiate would break the spell, allowing him to enter.
He hesitated his hand shaking. Why was it so difficult to cut himself when he could slice through another person with glee? He closed his eyes; he must do this the time of the sacrifice was drawing near, and less than forty minutes now remained. He raised the knife and brought it to his chest. It was cold against his skin. Eyes closed, breath held, hands shaking he pushed the razor sharp blade and nicked his skin. “Ouch.”
He put the knife down. Bringing his finger up to the tiny wound, he squeezed and encouraged a drop of blood to spill. It fell down onto the metal door, spreading as it landed. No one would believe that such a tiny spot of blood could have so much power. Smoke rose from where it hit. For a second nothing else happened and then a flash. He watched as the door gave slightly beneath him. He’s was in.
Rising unsteadily, he grabbed his shirt. Despite the fact that it was cold and wet, he pushed his arms into the sodden sleeves.
He hauled open the seal and saw steps disappearing into the darkness below. As he placed his foot on the first step, a light came on, illuminating the way. “Cool.”
He dragged Jenny to the steps and considered dragging her down them as he had done the chubby prostitute, but the risk of falling and damaging her was too great.
Bending, he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. She was limp; her legs dangled down his chest, her head down his back, she was lifeless and still. Just for a second he panicked. What if he had killed her? Standing there with the unconscious girl over his shoulder, he listened. Yes, he could feel a slight rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. And at least if she was unconscious he wouldn’t have to listen to any more of her mundane babble. He carried her down the steps and into the cellar.
He was disappointed at the sparseness below. Just a desk, altar and the seal itself adorned the room. There were no markings on the floor, no space for torture, no back exit. In time he intended to extend the chamber, build an entrance for Fluffy and somewhere for him to have fun. Lincoln was a university town so there would be plenty of young people to choose from. Plenty of lonely one’s that no one would miss.
The room was much smaller than his sacrificial chamber, and dirty, with cobwebs everywhere. It looked as if Simon hadn’t been down here for years. The seal was in the centre of the room, a sacrificial post before it. He carried Jenny to the post and leaned her against it. He was amazed that there were no chains. “What?”
He let go of her just as she began to stir. She had just enough motor control to stand upright. He must hurry before she woke up. He scanned the room, but could see no way to fasten her. Desperation slid a slimy hand into his guts. What else could go wrong? He stripped off his shirt and pulled her arms behind the post. He fastened them securely with the soaked material.
With this done, he turned to the seal. Aldona was already tied to him, so all he needed was to open the seal and she would appear. It was very similar to his, pewter at least used here. The pentagram shaped door, with a circle inside, broken into eight equal triangles, points meeting in the centre. There was some carving on the metal, the Celtic twists and turns of Aldona. But it was not as fancy as his own, and he felt another wave of disappointment. This would need to be changed.
Standing to one side, Jenny on his right and the seal before him, he closed his eyes and concentrated. He called, “Venire ad me.” Come to me. He waited, and then checked his watch. They had almost thirty minutes to perform the ceremony. He grabbed a chair and sat before the seal, eyes closed and head heavy in his hands. This was his only chance. There was no time for a second go. It had to work. He breathed deeply, desperate to stay calm as fatigue threatened to engulf him.
He had drifted off, but the popping as the first of the seals opened brought him instantly awake. A course of adrenaline ran through his body. His hairs stood up, his pulse increased, his eyes were wide open, and he was ready. The first section was open, the one directly across from Jenny. She was stirring, but was not yet fully awake, her head hung down, her blond hair cascaded forward a stark contrast to her black T-shirt and jeans. She always dressed in black, funny as she had shunned the dark arts. But that was fortunate for him. If she had studied with Alex, she would be able to fight him, and that he did not need.
Pop, the next seal flew open. Robert was disappointed there was no mist. Aldona usually sent the mist before her. A sentinel sent to herald her way and to spook the waiting victim. He knew the mist was mainly for show. It could be imbued with power to drain energy, but Aldona liked her theatrics and usually it was just a parlor trick. Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, the rest of the seals flung open, bounced and then settled on the ground surrounding the pit. A small amount of dust rose with them and seemed to float in the air before disappearing into the hole.
Robert waited, breath held, anticipation tensed every muscle and was stamped across his face.
She appeared out of the ground, pointed away from him. Her black hair shining like raven’s wings cascaded down her back like a waterfall of despair. Next, her body emerged, lithe and athletic, ensconced in black leather. The material was shimmering, glistening as if still soaked with the blood of its previous owner. She was sitting cross-legged on a black velvet cushion. She floated from the dimension below to hover three feet above the seal, still pointing away from Robert.
Robert swallowed. She was obviously upset and being prissy. All he needed was a pissed off goddess. He giggled, wondering if it was that time of the month.
She flickered, and then appeared instantly in front of him. A long black nail forced up into his throat, just beneath his chin. The nail tilted his head up, causing him to swallow. His eyes stared into the depths of her black irises. The wounds from the dog bites were still sore, and her nail caught their ragged edges. Sweat broke out on his face, ran down his forehead, and into his eyes.
“You dare to mock me?” She pushed the nail harder into his skin, slicing through and allowing a small trickle of blood to run down her nail.
He winced at the pain as fear weakened his knees. He felt himself start to fall. “No,” he shouted, standing upright and looking into her eyes. “I worship you. Before you is a sacrifice. I wish to join your eternal bond, serve homage to you for now and for all times.”
She pressed a little harder before withdrawing the finger. It was coated with his blood. She raised it to her mouth and sucked blissfully, eyes closed.
“I have a slight problem you could maybe help with?” He asked the question as his left hand checked the wound on his chin. It came away soaked in blood. He gulped, afraid, but it was too late now. She could kill him if she so wished he had nothing to lose. Resigned to his fate, a feeling of calmness flooded through him.
She opened her eyes, nodding her head to one side.
“Some of your previous initiates are trying to stop this sacrifice. How do I kill them?”
She flickered again, reappearing before Jenny. She walked around the girl, eyeing her like she was appraising a cow at market. She reached out and touched her skin. Jenny stirred but did not wake. “She is your daughter?” She faced Robert.
“Yes.”
“If so... Her sacrifice will grant you immortality until your seventieth birthday. Today you would be given the biological age and body of a twenty year old. When that body reache
s seventy, you will revert to being mortal, unless you sacrifice the first born of that body, do you understand?”
“Yes.” He nodded his head, like a child eager to play with his latest toy.
“The only way to be rid of one of my immortals, before they reach seventy is to throw them into the seal. Once there… I keep them in purgatory for all eternity.” Her face was serene, a hidden glow lighting her from within.
“Goody.” Robert smiled in return. “Do I receive a reward for killing them?”
Black eyes bored into him as she considered his proposal.
Chapter Forty-Two
Doris was getting used to the huge Audi. At first she had been intimidated by its size and power, but she was finding it surprisingly easy to drive, even on the narrow country roads. They were about ten minutes away from Wyleford and Simon’s house that was tucked away deep in the woods.
She could see Simon sat in the back, with Rosie, head down, working on some spell.
“You want the next right,” he said, looking up. For a second, they had eye contact in the mirror. He looked tired but all right, excited that he was doing something.
Next to her, Alex slept, his head rested against the window as rain streamed down the glass outside. He was oblivious to the weather or the journey. She smiled. He needed his rest.
She was also tired. The constant rain was mesmerizing, and it would be so easy to just close her eyes. The turn approached faster than she expected. She stamped on the brakes and the car nosedived. She expected to slide on the waterlogged road, but the Audi was sure-footed, even in these treacherous conditions. She turned the wheel, and saw that the lane in front of her was narrower, a single track. “Where now?” she asked.
“About three quarters of a mile we turn left. It’s hard to see. There’s a small gap in the hedge.” Simon’s head was down as he concentrated.
The road ahead wound down a gentle slope. Doris had never been to Simon’s, and part of her was curious about his house. She had heard Jenny say it was spectacular, and that the scenery was even better. Jenny and Rosie loved to run, their own house backed onto a small wood, and Doris knew they were envious of Simon’s woods.
She needed to concentrate as the slippery black tarmac snaked away from her, hidden behind a curtain of rain. Both sides of the road were lined with large hawthorn hedges. They were neatly trimmed and funneled the headlights.
The fields beyond the hedges were a blur, just a dark smudge behind the rain. She leaned forward and peered over the wheel, straining her eyes to see the gap. She willed the car onwards, praying they were in time to save Jenny.
“There it is.” Simon spotted the gap and pointed over her shoulder.
She also saw it. The car slowed obediently and turned onto the lane. The road was dark and dreary, and the approaching trees further sucked the light from the night. She drove into the trees with a touch of trepidation. A primal fear took her as they entered the darkness. The trees slowed the rain and allowed her headlights to shine further into the woodland. Shaking off her fear, she gunned the accelerator and they speeded forwards and soon pulled out the other side, the full view of Wyleford before them. Doris gasped at the splendor of the house and its surroundings.
It looked disquietingly ominous, especially in the rain. The dark brick and small windows of the ancient facade seemed to hide evil. Stop it you ninny, she admonished herself, but her skin was suddenly cold in the warm cozy car.
“Drive past, around to the left and park near the door.” Simon was pointing again, his arm warm on hers. It gave her a boost. He and Alex were strong and good. They would prevail.
As they turned the corner, the security lights came on, lighting the lawns down to the lake. They saw Robert’s Mercedes parked to one side.
“Thank God he’s here,” Doris and Simon said simultaneously and shared a look of hope and fear.
“Don’t stop the engine,” Alex said as he woke and sat upright. He took Doris’s shoulder and turned her towards him. “Go to Jenny’s house and take Rosie. When we’re safe, we will come to you.”
“No, I can’t leave you.” Her voice wavered and tears formed in her tired eyes.
“Go, please,” Alex said his own eyes misting as he stared into hers. “Doris, if at least you and the mutt are safe, we will feel better.”
“He’s right,” Simon piped up from the back. “We can be more direct if you’re not here.”
Simon tied the bag to Rosie’s collar. Kissing her head, he stared into those big brown eyes before climbing out of the car.
“Doris, you have been a star, now go.” Simon closed the door, heading off into the rain.
Alex hugged her close before turning and opening the car door. He stepped out into the rain. The two men walked away towards the house, neither looked back.
Doris smiled at Rosie before pulling the wheel of the Audi down to turn the car around and head back down the roadway.
She felt both relief at her own safety and despondency at turning her back on her friends. Rosie whined her own sorrow from the back seat.
***
Simon and Alex glanced at each other through the pouring rain before walking towards the house. They heard the Audi turn and drive away behind them, the car soon gone as the rain blotted out any engine noise.
When they reached the house, the door was open. To Alex, this was both hope and desolation. Where was Jenny? He stepped into the house, his heart hammering in his chest. Was there a trap?
He had used the car journey to recharge himself, had concentrated on conserving his energy. Though weaker than he would like, he was ready. He looked at Simon. His friend’s face, covered in rain, glistened in the security lights. It was healing, most of his bones were now covered and his destroyed bottom lip was growing back. He still looked a mess, but he was healing. The worry was how much strength they had between them. He doubted it would be enough to take on Robert, but maybe enough to delay him, to let Jenny escape.
“Where’s your seal?” he asked, entering the hallway. The lights were still on, the house quiet, the marble spread out before them. They could see water on the floor, tracks where Robert had walked, and smears where he had dragged Jenny.
A hand clutched tight around Alex’s heart. How badly was she hurt, if he was dragging her? Alex fought down the panic. She would be alive. Robert needed her alive.
“She’s just unconscious,” Simon said, breaking Alex’s panic. “He will be conserving his magic and saving his strength for what may come. Now, this way.” Simon pointed. “It’s in the garage.”
They weaved their way through the house to the garage. “Why did you never destroy it?” Alex asked as his eyes bore into his friend.
“It was never a priority, once I had used it. I don’t know, maybe it’s there just to torture me, remind me of what I did.” Simon’s hands were clenched before him, the torment apparent on his face.
“Okay mate, that’s a conversation for another day.”
They entered the garage. “Don’t you worry, the first thing I do tomorrow is order a wagon load of ready-mix.” Simon pointed to the abandoned mower and the open door. He crossed to it, pausing to peer into the abyss below.
***
Jenny jerked awake. She could feel her arms secured behind her, could feel the pain in the strained muscles. Her first instinct was to scream, but she stopped herself just in time, the sound strangled in her throat. She had to be smart and keeping as still as she could she assessed her position.
She eased upright, slowly, remembering where she was and wanting the element of surprise if Robert should be close. Her muscles eased as she stood taking her own weight.
Her face was painful, and she remembered the punch into her right eye and then nothing. The bastard had knocked her out. Rage filled her, heat warming her angry face.
She had to escape. She tested her wrists. They were not too tight. What time was it? How long did she have? She worked her hands behind her, testing whatever held them, working at
it, and gradually they started to come loose.
Raising her head just an inch, she could see Robert. He was talking to a tall, slim woman, with black hair dressed in leather. This must be the Aldona, waiting for her sacrifice.
Robert looked a little sulky, like a child whose favorite toy had been taken from him. His lip was actually pouted. She nearly laughed the emotion from hysteria more than comedy. Biting down on her lip, she looked around, but there was nothing she could use.
She continued to work the ties around her wrist, pressing against the pole, trying to use it as a lever. The material was wet and heavy, making loosening it harder. It seemed to want to pull tight. She glanced at Robert again. Aldona had moved. She was sitting on the altar in the lotus position with her eyes closed. She looked like she was meditating, doing some form of power yoga.
Jenny looked back at Robert. He had no shirt on. That must be what was holding her, and it gave her an idea. Her new watch had been a pain. The fastener was large and strong and it kept sticking out she had even scratched herself with it a time or two. She moved her right arm upwards as far as it would go and pulled the material down on to the catch of the watch. She pressed with all her strength and then pulled, feeling a tiny tear form in the cotton. Sighing with relief and hope, she repeated the movement. Bit by tiny bit she ripped the shirt, feeling it loosen on her arms. If she could get free, could she fight him?
Despair tried to overcome her. She saw herself cast in a spell as soon as she moved. “No, damn it,” she mumbled. “I have to try.” And if she got free, didn’t move till nearly time, she could jump into the pit, at least denying him her sacrifice, stopping him gaining her power.
She worked again at the shirt, her wrists sore and scratched from pulling against the watch catch, but she could feel the material loosening. Another movement, another tiny tear but her wrists were gradually getting looser. She moved again, working the catch, each time she ripped a bit more of the shirt. She has no way of knowing if the tears would join to form a rip or if she was making tiny cuts along the material useless to help her.
Flee Page 23
