He took something red and dripping from one glass jar and deftly cut it into three segments.
“A little steak?” he asked, handing me a piece. “For strength.”
He must have seen the disgust on my face.
“A little too raw for you? We can soon rectify that.” He passed his hand over the meat and there was a sizzling and the sweet smell of cooking meat. Despite myself, I found that my mouth was wet with saliva.
“Eat it “ he said, passing the now-charred flesh to me. “You’ll need it later.”
I took it gingerly and studied it while he passed the other piece to Fiona. I watched her reaction, and she didn’t flinch before popping the piece into her mouth.
It certainly looked like steak. I took a bite and my mouth watered as I chewed the soft meat. It had a heavy tang I had never tasted before, but it went down smoothly enough.
“Good?” Dunlop asked, and I nodded assent. He smiled at me slyly, and I wondered what I had just eaten, but I didn’t have the nerve to ask.
The sun was just going down behind the Cullins, throwing a pink sheet across the evening sky. A light wind sent white horses scudding across the surface of the sea. The hills stood out gray and stark on the skyline and somewhere overhead I heard the hunting call of a buzzard. Sometimes I wonder why I bother staying in the city. I resolved, when this was all over, to get out into the country more, to see more of my native land. I just hoped I’d have the chance to do it.
All three of us stood in silence for a while content to let nature take its course. Suddenly Dunlop and Fiona moved close together.
“Join us “ she said, stretching out her hand.
I took it, and Dunlop took my free hand. It was like holding hands with a corpse—his palm was cold and clammy, somehow greasy. I felt self-conscious, half expecting a busload of tourists to leap out and start filming us. That all disappeared when Fiona started to sing.
It was soaring, it was melodic, and it moved me, bringing pictures of simple life in forests, of crystal clear waterfalls, of wildlife in abundance. You know the kind of thing—picture postcard scenery for tourists. But Fiona’s voice overcame my cynicism, bringing surprise tears to my eyes.
It sounded like Gaelic, but I couldn’t be sure. Dunlop’s hand felt damp and heavy in mine, but I soon failed to notice. A tingling spread through me, like mild pins and needles that started at my feet and moved slowly up my body. It felt as if my hair stood on end, and I seemed to be drawing heat straight from the sun. The pain in my arm, which had been with me all day, faded to a dull ache then melted away completely. Beside me, Dunlop straightened and his skin color improved markedly. He still looked ill, but he no longer looked like he might die at any minute.
Fiona seemed to have grown in stature, and she had taken on an inner glow. The song finished but we stood there for several minutes, grinning at each other inanely.
Dunlop was the first to move.
“We are as ready as we can be. Time to go.”
I had a mind full of questions, but Dunlop waved them all away. An hour ago he had looked near death, now he looked ready for anything.
“No time for questions, Derek, The stars are almost right. We must go; I have an ancestor to revenge.”
As we got into the car I flexed my wounded arm, gingerly, expecting a flare of pain, but there was nothing, just a vague numbness. I pressed the wounded area lightly, but still there was no pain.
Fiona put a hand on my arm.
“Don’t worry, Derek—I haven’t harmed you. And it will only last a few hours. By tomorrow morning you’ll have the pain back again, I’m afraid.”
I put it to the back of my mind, aware that it was getting crowded in there with unanswered, maybe unanswerable, questions, but I forced myself to concentrate as Dunlop told me where to go next.
I was no longer tired. And for maybe the first time since the start of the case, I didn’t want a cigarette. I’d have to ask her the secret of her song. If we could market it as an anti-smoking cure, we would make a fortune.
Dunlop directed me north along several single-track roads, hedges pushing in close to the car, trees overhanging in a huge, gnarled arc, almost blotting out the sun. I took it slowly, easing the big car round the corners, aware that at any moment a crazed tourist could be coming the other way, one who was doing at least sixty while studying a map.
Dunlop seemed confused at first, but then began to grow more confident, as if he was recognizing landmarks. He leaned over my shoulder and asked me to stop as we crested a hill overlooking the sea.
We were standing on a promontory, looking down to a small island about four hundred yards from us. White spray lashed the black rocks on the cliffs beneath us, and on the island, in the middle of a densely wooded area, sat a Gothic mansion straight out of an old Hollywood B- movie, something knocked up in a couple of days by Roger Corman.
The stone looked black in the last rays of the dying sun, twin turrets jutting skywards like arms reaching for the sky.
A whole horde of small protuberances stuck out from these turrets and, although we were too far away to be sure, I was pretty certain they would prove to be gargoyles.
A thin causeway led from the road, across to the island, and ended in a wide drive in front of the house. There were several expensive cars parked in the driveway, but I didn’t recognize any of them—the policemen’s car was not among them. I hoped we had finally lost Stan and Ollie, but in my heart I knew that they were around, somewhere, just waiting for the right moment to make their move. I hoped they would give me time to find Doug—if he was anywhere on this earth to be found.
I realized that I was probably going to be in trouble with the policemen when this was all over. Then again, a couple of hours of boredom in a police cell sounded fine just about then. I promised myself that I would never whine about being bored again.
Look where it leads you.
My mind was wandering again, trying to ignore what lay ahead. I didn’t like the look of that house—I didn’t want to go down that hill.
As we watched, lights winked on in two of the windows like giant eyes snapping open.
Seven
The island was made of solid rock and stood twenty-feet out of the water on dark basaltic cliffs, on top of which sat a wall that must have been ten feet high. The only entrance was across the man-made causeway to the imposing wrought-iron gates.
“Welcome to Arkham House “ Dunlop said, and I half expected a bolt of lightning and a roll of thunder to accompany his words.
“And what now?” I asked. “I don’t think any of us are up to climbing those cliffs. And they’re not going to let us just walk up the drive. How do you plan to get in?”
He patted the side of his nose with his index finger.
“Trade secrets, I’m afraid. But it will be best if we wait till full dark—the ceremony will not begin until midnight, and the less time we spend in the house grounds the better.”
“And then what?” I pressed, but I didn’t get any answer. Fiona got out of the car, then back in again to sit beside Dunlop in the back.
“Could you leave us alone for a bit, Derek?” she asked. There was genuine pleading in her eyes; I couldn’t refuse.
I left them in the car and went out to watch the last of the sunset. Stars were beginning to twinkle into existence overhead. I wondered what was ‘right’ about them on this night in particular—to me they looked as cold and impersonal as ever.
I looked back into the car, and looked away again quickly. They were in a clinch, like a pair of teenagers out on a date. I walked away and left them to it, but I couldn’t help being jealous.
The road was heavily wooded all the way down to the island, but I didn’t intend going any closer to that house until it was absolutely necessary. I walked back up the road for fifty yards, just far enough so that I could no longer see the couple in the back seat.
I lit a cigarette and tried not to think of how quiet it was, trying not to wonder what was
making the noises in the undergrowth. The cigarette tasted burnt—a piece of dry ash—and I wondered why I had ever put one in my mouth. I stubbed it out on the bark of a tree. It was when I flicked the stub away that I spotted it.
It looked like a rear end of a car, the taillights still faintly burning, hidden behind a mass of gorse bushes.
I crept closer, having to push the thorny bush aside to get through, but soon, only ten yards from the road, I stood beside Stan and Ollie’s car. They’d driven it off the road, then covered it in branches. I wondered if it was us they were following—after all, hadn’t I put them on Durban’s tail earlier. Maybe they were down at the house already?
Then I saw the blood. They weren’t going to be bothering me any more...they weren’t going to be bothering anybody any more.
I didn’t want to look too closely, but I knew what had got them—the puncture marks from the tentacles were becoming all too familiar by now.
I tried to open the car doors, thinking that one of them might still be alive, but the doors were all locked, from the inside. I considered breaking in, but there was no need; it was obvious that both men were dead—very much dead.
The interior of the car was like an abattoir, crimson splashes of blood and gore across all the glass. The policemen were both in the back seat in a tangle of arms and legs, in a cruel parody of the loving couple in the car a bit further down the road. It looked like they had tried to put up a fight—and failed.
I did stay around long enough to check if their radio might be working, but I could see through the windscreen that it, and all the instrument panel, had been broken and smashed.
Just then there was a loud crack as something heavy moved in the undergrowth. Ten seconds later, I was back beside Dunlop’s Mercedes, wheezing and panting as if I’d just run a mile rather than less than a hundred yards.
When I reached the car I looked back up the road, but nothing moved, there was only the quiet dark. I thought of how it must have come on them, silent and deadly and completely terrifying in the claustrophobic confines of the car. I shivered, and I wasn’t entirely convinced it had been brought on by the cold.
I was about to rap on the back window, to tell them of my discovery, when I saw that Dunlop was asleep, his head lying in his wife’s lap. I couldn’t be sure—it was dark in the car— but it looked like she had a stream of tears running down her cheeks.
That was when I decided not to tell them. It would have to join the other matters awaiting the outcome of the night’s work.
I lit a cigarette, by habit more than from any need, but the sight of Newman and Hardy had broken some of Fiona’s spell. I sucked it down and concentrated on blowing smoke-rings for a while.
We’d have to put a codicil on that spell if we wanted to sell it: Not effective in the face of violent death.
I was on my third cigarette and beginning to get cold by the time the couple joined me, hand in hand like a pair of teenagers. I could just see the hands of my watch—it was 9:30.
“We have to time this right “ Dunlop said. “We have to get into the crypt, and the best time to do that will be after they are all there. I’m betting that no one will want to miss the ceremony. We shouldn’t meet anyone on our way there.”
I was puzzled. “But you said they knew we were coming, didn’t you?”
He patted me on the shoulder. “Oh yes. And they do. They have other means of guarding themselves. Which is why we must be prepared.”
He went back to the car and came back with three glass bottles from the suitcase. I didn’t look too closely at their contents. He put them in a small backpack that he struggled to fit over his shoulders. He took something else from inside a small black bag, but he was too quick for me. Whatever it was went into the backpack with the jars.
“A fine night for a walk “ he said, and winked at me. For a man who was about to do battle with demons he was in a sprightly mood, but then again, I myself felt full of confidence and eager to get going. Even the sight of the dead policemen hadn’t affected me as bad as I would have imagined. I suppose it was something to do with Fiona’s spell—I had no fear, no apprehension. Maybe fear was easier than nicotine addiction to conquer by magic. That didn’t surprise me much, given how hard I’d found it over the years to give up smoking. “I’m ready for action “ I said. “Let’s do it.”
“Come on, then “ Dunlop said. “We can’t wait all night.”
We made our way down the hill, watched all the way by those giant unblinking windows, and as we got closer the feeling of being watched got ever stronger.
I wondered what Dunlop had in mind. I couldn’t believe that we would just walk up to the door and ask politely if we could get inside, and we certainly wouldn’t get away with pretending to have a breakdown—some clichés were just too old to work.
Dunlop had got a few yards ahead of us and I took the chance to ask Fiona if she knew what was going on.
“Just stick with Arthur “ she said. “He knows what he’s doing.”
The rest of the journey down the hill passed in silence except for the crashing of the waves on the rocks below. I could smell salt in the air and feel fine spray on my face. More than once I had a brief, regretful glimpse back at the car.
Dunlop stopped us again just before we stepped onto the causeway and led us out of sight of the house.
“It’s time for some more protection “ he said. He made some passes with his hands, and I was reminded of Durban’s actions at the previous conjuration, but Dunlop’s were slower, somehow more graceful. It brought to mind of the careful, slow movements of an old Chinese martial arts expert. It was almost hypnotic.
Suddenly his hand shot out towards Fiona and a shower of dazzling blue sparks flowed over her body, dancing in a spiral which wound around her body, faster and faster until she was almost blocked from view by the whirling light.
Dunlop shouted, one harsh word, and the lights froze in position. They winked once, and she was gone.
It had happened as suddenly as that. I believe I gave out a small yelp of surprise, but I couldn’t be sure. I was almost too shocked to move.
I stepped forward, ready to grab Dunlop, believing some treachery, but was stopped by a chuckle, a female chuckle from my left-hand side.
“Don’t worry “ Fiona said, the sound of her voice coming closer. “Arthur knows what he is doing.” I felt a finger touch my cheek and jumped backwards, suddenly afraid. I turned back towards Dunlop in time to see him point at me. My body tensed, expecting a blow that never landed. My sight was filled for an instant with sheeting blueness that seemed to fill my mind.
I blinked, just once, then tried to rub my eyes. I seemed to be peering through a fine mist, and at first I thought it was my eyes, but when I lifted my hand I saw blue, electric sparks dancing across its surface.
Fiona was back, her body pulsing in an aura of turquoise brightness. She laughed, a high- pitched, girlish giggle, and twirled with her hands outstretched, sending showers of sparks dancing from her fingertips.
Dunlop threw his arms up over his head and, after one brilliant flash of white, he too was surrounded by a corona, still blue, but this time shot through with black threads.
“Show off “ Fiona said before turning to me. “A simple invisibility spell. It could have been done with a lot less show, but Arthur does love to have an audience.”
I didn’t understand how we could be invisible when we were lit up like fairies on a Christmas tree, but as I’ve said before, there was a lot about this case I didn’t understand. I kept my mouth shut and followed them as they stepped onto the causeway.
This is where things start to get out of control, and I’m not even sure how much of it I believe myself. I know the story has been outlandish enough so far, but hold onto your hats, as they say in the films, you ain’t seen nothing yet. I won’t try to theorize over what occurred; I’ll just tell the story as I think it happened and let the events speak for themselves.
When my foot hit
the causeway it felt like I’d burned my bridges—there was no going back now. I looked to the other two for some reassurance, but they were both lost in concentration.
We had only gone six feet when there was a scream from the top of one of the turrets, a banshee wail that echoed around us. I stopped where I was, frozen by that eldritch scream, and immediately knew that I was not going to be able to move for a long time. The scream echoed around the cliffs, the echoes answering in a chorus of whispers.
I looked up at the house in time to see something detach itself from the roof. At first it was just another blob of darkness against the sky, but then it grew, grew and flowed as if stretching after a long sleep. It took shape quickly, spreading a pair of leathery wings as it fell before swooping upwards barely a yard from the ground and taking flight.
For a second I was back in a childhood nightmare, cowering under the evil breath of a Nazgul from Mordor as it came for me.
It wailed once more and I saw smoke coming from its distended nostrils and the red fires of hell burning brightly in its eyes as it screamed its way towards us. I had time to see a sheen of jet-black scales, scales that clashed like cold metal as the great wings beat and it swooped.
I shouted, a stream of nonsense words, but was quietened by a stern look from Fiona. I ducked at the same time as my legs gave way under me, but when I managed to look up Dunlop and Fiona were standing over me.
It went dark, and the creature came on, dived over Fiona’s left shoulder, and kept going into the blackness. Fiona had a small, secretive smile on her lips.
“This is only the first barrier, used to keep away passing strangers. An illusion, that’s all, nothing to frighten a big strong man like you “ she said in a throaty stage whisper, not even looking at the thing that circled above us.
She was right. It swooped by overhead once more, revealing a milky white underside, before returning to its roost on the roof. The next time I looked it was just another blob on the skyline.
Dunlop took me aside and whispered sternly in my ear.
“You must control yourself. No matter what you see, or what you hear, you must keep quiet. I will tell you if there is anything to get really worried about. Okay?”
The Midnight Eye Files: Volume 1 (Midnight Eye Collections) Page 18
