The Man Who Built the World

by Chris Ward

  She headed on towards the pub, wondering who would be about on a Sunday night. Most of the local people were stupid, inbred farmers, sharing out a brain cell between them, more often than not losing it into that disgusting ale they drank.

  The closer she got, the surer she became that it wasn’t darts night tonight. Wasn’t that Tuesday? It looked increasingly likely that Billy Carter was off tonight’s menu. Sam, then it would have to be, though she would damn well make sure he took a bath first, muscles and thick shoulders or not.

  She felt a little disappointed. Billy Carter had rather leapt to the top of her hit-list, and with a few extra points to play with, courtesy of her stupid sister, she could have some real fun, but with his wife around too much planning was involved. Perhaps the pub might yield her an attractive outsider.

  Lost in her thoughts, at first she didn’t see the figure striding purposefully up the road, about a hundred yards ahead of her.

  Well, well. Who do we have here?

  As she recognised the tall, lithe figure, Elaina wanted to cry out with joy. Of all the people to find wandering about on a dark lonely night, well, Matthew Cassidy was the last she would have thought of.

  Matt Cassidy. He would do nicely.

  Rather attractive, she had always thought. And hadn’t she heard somewhere that he had a wife, children? Liana had met him already, though unintentionally. Elaina had only seen him from a distance. Liana had told her what she had sensed in him, the uncertainty, the hopelessness of his life, of his purpose. He had fled from a marriage on the verge of breakdown and come back here after all this time to find a father he had left a bloodied ruin in the snow, and a sister he had barely known dead and burnt. Perhaps he had come back to find himself, rediscover the illuminations of his soul, repair a few bridges.

  Well, whatever repair work he had done, it was high time it got burnt right down again.

  Elaina moved closer under the shadow of the houses, careful to keep far enough back that if he turned he wouldn’t recognise her, and fell into step behind him, making sure she kept him in sight. She was intrigued to know where he was going, but tingled with anticipation at the thought of what awaited her there.

  ###

  Bethany’s Diary, January 7th, 1999

  I’m carrying his child. I can feel little him or her growing inside me, living within me, a part of me yet, but someday soon to be a part of this world. Pure, innocent, a tiny little angel ready to make its way as so many millions of others have done before. I feel so proud. Of little him or her, of us.

  I only wish others felt the same. Dad seems to be indifferent. He’s not happy, but not angry either. I think our whole relationship is still proving difficult for him to handle. Maybe when the time comes and our child is born, he will accept us. I think he will. He is not an unreasonable man.

  Mother is another matter. I have barely seen her in recent months. She hasn’t spoken to me properly since the night Red and I first . . . lay together, giving only occasional grunts and shrugs in answer to my questions. There is something about our love that she cannot stand, and it drives me wild with anger to suffer her judgment like this. I have asked her to be honest and tell me what she hates about us so much, but she just turns away, shaking her head.

  I have thought about it a lot though, and I think I know what it is. If I’m right, and I intend to ask her, then I don’t know how I can face her and then face Dad again. I think she loves him – not Father, but Red. I think she has secretly harboured this love for some time, perhaps even years, and it is her jealously that makes her shun me. I want to ask him, but can’t, so her word will have to suffice.

  If I find it to be true, I’m not sure my own love for her will hold. It is betrayal, pure and simple. Why can’t she leave it alone? After all, she is dead.

  6

  The slope of the hollow dropped away in front of them towards the Merediths’ cottage, a solitary outside light casting a hazy amber glow over the front of the house, lending them just enough light to see by as they slipped down the embankment at the building’s rear. Red led the way as they crept around toward the front, the shotgun held in both hands like a quarterstaff, fingers clenched tight over the cold metal. Ian followed just behind, the flashlight now stuffed away in the pocket of his rain jacket.

  Red reached the corner of the house and peered out into a small courtyard. A black Nissan stood parked in the rain, outside a closed garage that made an L–shape to the house. Red glanced up at the house. The three upper floor windows were dark, but a glow hung in the air outside one of the two downstairs.

  ‘Well, looks like the whorehouse is full.’ Red started out towards the front door, motioning for Ian to follow. He dropped low to his haunches, a soldier creeping up on the enemy.

  ‘How do you plan to do this?’ Ian whispered, dropping down behind him.

  ‘Easy. We knock.’

  Ian shook his head, but continued to follow. He glanced up at the dark downstairs window as they passed, hoping to get some idea of the house’s layout, but a curtain blocked his way.

  When Red reached the front door, he stood up to his full height, and glanced over at Ian. ‘Keep an eye out,’ he said. ‘In case one of them is outside. Let me do the rest.’

  Ian felt a terrible sense of foreboding, not just for his friend but for everyone. Bad things floated in the air tonight.

  Red lifted one big hand and knocked on the front door, keeping the strength to a minimum so not to alarm anyone inside. Ian moved a couple of steps closer.

  They heard a voice from inside telling them to hold on, won’t be a minute, then a figure appeared behind the frosted glass and they heard the door handle click.

  The door swung open, and everything happened very fast.

  7

  Liana was dozing in her chair when the knock came. Elaina had been gone for almost an hour, off, no doubt, on another of her mischievous errands. Only a minute earlier Liana had checked on Jack, made sure he was sleeping soundly, and switched off the light in his makeshift nursery. She had gone back to watch television, found nothing on except soap omnibuses and Bargain Hunt reruns, so settled for a little nap instead. She felt exhausted. She often did these days when Elaina was in another of her moods.

  The knock broke her reverie, and at first she thought it was her sister returning, having forgotten her key, but Liana knew her sister would never lock the door, oh no, far too sensible. Must be a visitor, but who would ever call by to see them? They didn’t have friends, only a handful of casual acquaintances and a lot of people who kept their distance. She thought salesmen, perhaps, or Jehovah’s Witnesses; she could just send them on their way or perhaps even invite them in for a coffee if she fancied a chat. She would have a look at them first.

  So it came as rather a surprise for Liana to open the door and, instead of a short, middle–aged man wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase, to find a hulking, bear of a man standing there, holding a shotgun in his hands.

  She barely had time to register the man’s identity as the butt of the gun jerked up and struck her across the side of the forehead. She cried out in pain as the blow shot sparks across her eyes, and her legs crumpled beneath her like cardboard. The floor loomed up to meet her, but her hands wouldn’t work to break her fall, wouldn’t respond. She landed in a heap, her head striking back against the wall. Somehow she stayed conscious, helped by the sudden agony she felt as the big man took hold of her hair and dragged her backwards into the house.

  She knew him. Among many other things he was Ian Cassidy’s friend and Bethany Cassidy’s former lover. Red.

  Jack’s father.

  Panic enveloped her; fear for what the man might do to her, especially if he found the child. She reached out with her mind, pulling all the magic she could muster. To hell with Elaina, her sister would just have to manage. She pulled it out of the air and sent it streaming through to the baby’s room, allowing it to cloak him, to remove his existence from their gullible eyes. That would keep him
safe until she could understand the situation a little better.

  It would keep the baby safe. A good enough reason. Wasn’t it? It didn’t matter that she wanted to keep Jack for herself, never give him back, never give him to anyone. That had nothing to do with anything.

  Of course not.

  ‘You better start to talk to me you fucking bitch,’ Red screamed at her, hauling her through into the lounge with one powerful hand. ‘Where’s that whore of a sister of yours?’

  Tears of pain and terror welled in Liana’s eyes. ‘She’s – she’s out –’

  ‘Good.’ Red pulled her backwards until her shoulders pressed against the seat of the sofa. He pulled her hair taut, stretching her head back. He bent down to his knees and glared into her face. Liana cried out as her neck jarred. She could almost feel the discs in her vertebrae grinding together like whetstones. She smelt alcohol on his breath.

  Red dropped the gun down beside him. He kept hold of Liana’s hair with one hand, and gripped her chin with the other, squeezing hard until the pressure forced her mouth open.

  ‘Now then, you bitch. I have just one question. Where’s my baby?’

  Liana stared at him, eyes wide, the whites showing as bright as fresh paint. Blood dribbled down the side of her face from a cut that had opened up on her forehead. She worked her mouth as though to speak, and his grip relaxed a little.

  ‘I – I –’

  Red started to stand up and his hand dropped from her jaw. For a moment she thought he would release her completely, then his hand whipped back, slapping her hard across the left side of her face.

  The blow resounded with a sharp thwack, like a loose plastic covering cracking in the wind. Liana was too stunned to cry out. She felt her senses leave her, and the room blurred and spun. Then fingers closed on her jaw again and the world drifted back into focus.

  His eyes gleamed with a violent madness. ‘Don’t try to tell me lies, you fucking witch. I know he’s not dead. You have him. I’ll be asking you just exactly why when I have him back. Now, for the last time, where is he?’

  Again, Liana’s mouth moved, but the words, jumbled up inside, wouldn’t come out straight. ‘He – he – I –’

  ‘Okay, I see.’

  Red straightened again, but this time his hand balled into a fist. ‘I asked you nicely. I asked you one simple question and wanted one simple answer. Now, if you won’t cooperate, we’ll have to try a little persuasion –’

  His arm tensed. Liana’s eyes closed.

  ‘Red, for God’s sake, stop it!’

  Liana opened her eyes. The blow had never landed. She looked up, eyes widening in surprise.

  For the first time she noticed Ian Cassidy in the room with them. He must have come in with Red.

  Ian had hold of Red by the wrist and was holding his arm back. His friend no longer looked at Liana but up at Ian, and Liana could feel the sudden traitorous hatred that emanated from every inch of Red’s body.

  She knew why they had come; the baby lay sleeping in the other room, protected from their sight by a little of her magic. But she also knew they had come here together, as allies against a common enemy.

  In Red’s eyes, Ian had just switched sides.

  Red’s words lasted forever. ‘What – are – you – doing?’

  Ian stared him down. As Liana watched the two big men, she couldn’t pick who she thought might win if their sudden confrontation escalated into a fight. She assessed her own chances: not good. Although Red’s shotgun lay within her reach, she could never get into a position to fire it before it was kicked out of her hand. Not that she could shoot one of the men anyway, murder was as impossible an option to Liana as flying to the moon with only her arms as wings. If Elaina were here, things might be different. Where was she?

  Ian met his friend’s fiery gaze, refusing to back down, despite the unhealthy level of anger in Red’s face. He had crossed the line by protecting her, Liana knew, and in doing so he had pushed Red over his own edge. Now insanity glowed in the big man’s eyes.

  Ian had risked his own safety, but Red no longer held the gun. Neither had any advantage that Liana could see. It was stalemate.

  Ian’s words were level, even. ‘I don’t care what she’s done. I’m not going to watch you beat her to a pulp.’

  ‘She deserves everything she gets, and more.’

  ‘That’s not for us to decide. Let her answer before you assault her.’

  Red hesitated for a moment before turning back to Liana. Ian slowly let go of Red’s arm, and Red shook it free of the last of Ian’s grip as though it was dirty, shameful. He glared at Liana and knelt down. His fingers closed once more over her hair, but his grip was palpably lighter. The assurance in his eyes had gone too, replaced, she thought, by something else.

  Humiliation.

  ‘Talk,’ he said. ‘No lies.’ His other hand dropped to the gun, the movement made obvious as though to let her understand.

  ‘He’s with my sister,’ she said. Well, there was one.

  ‘And where, exactly, is she?’

  Liana shook her head a little, the movement restricted by the grip on her hair. ‘I don’t know. She went out a little while ago and hasn’t come back.’ At least that was true.

  ‘And why has she got my baby with her?’

  ‘I don’t know. He wasn’t sleeping too well. She thought the air would do him good.’

  Red nodded. ‘Thank you, though I don’t believe any of it. Ian, search the house.’

  Ian shook his head. ‘And leave you alone with her? You search the house, I’ll keep an eye on her.’ Red narrowed his eyes suspiciously, so Ian added: ‘Take the gun with you if you like. We won’t go anywhere.’

  Red scowled at him a moment, then shoved Liana’s head away and picked up the gun. ‘Very well.’ He gave Ian a long, hard parting stare, then walked out of the room.

  Liana breathed out softly.

  ‘Don’t try anything,’ Ian said. ‘I might not want to see him hurt you, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve stolen his child. That’s my grandson too, remember? Just sit still and stay quiet.’

  Liana reached out with her mind to check her magic, ensure it was strong enough to hold for a while longer. It was, but she had nothing left, no more to give. She could do nothing but wait to see what they would do, or hope that her sister came back soon. She leaned her head back against the edge of the sofa, and began to cry softly into the velvet material that smelt sweetly of dust and perfume.

  From the end of a hallway that led out from the lounge and down to a lower kitchen, they heard a muffled grunt of frustration, then the thud thud of Red’s feet ascending the stairs to the upper floor.

  Ian sat down on the edge of the sofa. He looked at the woman, felt a sudden nostalgic sympathy towards her as though being near her somehow brought him closer to Gabrielle. ‘I’m sorry he hit you. It’s not . . . like him. You know, to hit a woman.’

  Liana said nothing. ‘I won’t ask you to understand.’

  ‘It has something to do with my wife, doesn’t it?’

  She stared at him wide eyed. ‘Y–yes,’ she stammered finally. ‘I don’t expect you to understand.’

  Somehow Ian had known it all along. He nodded. ‘It’s still wrong,’ he said. ‘To steal someone’s child. For any reason.’

  Liana sniffed, and nodded. ‘I know that too.’

  They heard a muffled crash from the room directly above them, followed quickly by another. They glanced at each other, then upwards at the ceiling. It sounded as though Red had vented his frustration on some furniture. Liana unconsciously rubbed at her face, her left cheek red and sore.

  ‘Don’t antagonise him more than you have,’ Ian said, voice deliberately low as Red’s feet began their descent. ‘Don’t lie to him either. He’s not acting rationally, and to be honest, you can hardly blame him. I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to protect you.’

  Liana nodded as Red walked into the room.

  ‘Having a
nice little chat, are we?’ Red cocked the gun, then took a seat facing the door, the gun resting on his lap. Liana and Ian sat off to his right, on the first of two sofas at diagonal angles to the fire which crackled low in the grate.

  ‘What now, Red?’

  Red eyed Ian with the same suspicion as before, but didn’t let his words describe the way he felt.

  ‘He’s not here. If he’s with the other one as she says, we have two choices. We could go look for her, or –’ he stood up suddenly and pointed the gun directly at Liana’s head. ‘Where did she go?’

  ‘I told you, I don’t know!’

  Red held the gun steady for a moment. Maybe he could sense she didn’t know from the tremble of her lips, or the terror in her eyes. She was too frightened to move, too frightened even to cry. He nodded and sat back down again.

  ‘Or we sit here and wait.’ He absently rubbed one finger up and down the barrel of the gun. ‘To me, that sounds the best option. She has to come back sooner or later, right?’

  Ian nodded. ‘We wait here then.’

  ‘I’ve got forever. And if that’s how long it takes –’

  Ian shifted in his seat.

  ‘Hey!’ Red lifted the gun, aiming it lazily in the direction of the couch. ‘Don’t get up. Stay right there, both of you.’

  The gleam of madness had returned to his eyes. Liana saw a dribble of sweat drip down over Ian’s nose.

  Red crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in the chair. ‘And while we’ve got a little time on our hands, how’s about you tell me just why exactly you thought it necessary to steal my baby?’ He looked at Liana. ‘Come on, be honest here. Please be honest. Otherwise I might just blow your fucking head off and be done with it.’

  Liana’s mouth worked silently. Her mouth felt dry, parched, and the thudding of her heart seemed to be pressing against the sides of her throat.

  ‘What’s the matter? Nothing to say? Well, you’d best think of something, eh?’ He brought the gun up, pointing it at her stomach. Liana’s breath caught, and tears slid from her eyes to roll down her pallid, porcelain face.