“How’s he doing?” She gripped the phone, not sure she wanted to hear the answer.
“He seems to have improved a bit, but he really should be in the hospital. If you are... um, close to him, you should try to convince him to go in the ambulance with Agnes. He might listen to you.”
“I can’t.” There was silence on the line. “I’ve got something I have to do.” It sounded lame and selfish, but how could she explain what she didn’t really understand herself?
“Oh... yes. Well, I just thought. Never mind.” He sounded anything but understanding.
“Dr Cole, I think I know what’s causing all this and I’m going to try to stop it. If you don’t hear from me by tonight, tell Leary and Attwell to search the old shearer’s cottage off Knoll Road.” Maggie was about to hang up when the doctor’s voice stopped her.
“I think I know what you’re talking about. Harness has been saying things… About a demon child. He said it breathed on him. Is that what all this is about?”
Maggie was surprised by the question. She couldn’t tell if he believed any of it or not. But what did she have to lose by telling him?
“Yes. It is. You don’t have to believe it, just send the police if you don’t hear from me by the time it gets dark.” She waited, but he didn’t respond. “Please, Dr Cole?”
“Yes. I’ll send them,” he said, and hung up.
Maggie walked back into the sitting room. “I’ll leave the front door open for the doctor and ambulance.” She was on her way to the front of the house when Agnes spoke.
“She’ll kill you.” It was a statement, not a warning.
Maggie paused, about to say something smart, but the retort died on her lips. “You might be right.” Maggie turned and left.
Chapter Twenty-eight
She could feel the woman’s fury growing and with it her strength. She would be an admirable adversary, but she, like many others before her, would perish. Prapti had sensed Maggie’s strength and powerful spirit that first night at the party. She thought of Agnes, but the image was fleeting and of no importance. Agnes was unworthy of the great honour that had been bestowed upon her. She was an unclean spirit who was useful for ensuring the safety of the Devi, but now her usefulness had come to an end.
Prapti’s thoughts turned to the Devi – she felt the familiar rush of anticipation. Soon their work here would be complete and the Devi would allow Prapti to drink her sacred blood. Blood that was Shakti, divine and most powerful. It gave Prapti strength and knowledge. It filled her and nourished her as it had done for many lifetimes.
Prapti stepped out of her clothes and stood naked before the altar. She ran her hands over her breasts and closed her eyes. The first time she’d tasted the dark blood of the Devi she’d been a child herself, alone and abandoned to sleep in the filthy lanes of her village.
She ran her hands over her abdomen, raking her nails across the scarred skin. Her days and nights were filled with hunger and misery, begging for scraps and offering herself to anyone with food or a few coins to spare. When a terrible plague swept through the village and the children began to die, Prapti believed it would soon be her turn to perish– the thought brought comfort.
One night, as she lay huddled in a doorway, the song of the Devi called to her with its dark sweetness. That night she’d walked out of her village and up into the hills where the Devi waited to embrace her. She drank the blood of the Goddess and was reborn. The Devi was her saviour and together they had travelled the world.
The Devi had many names: Demon, Acheri, even Devil. The simple-minded people who gave her these names knew nothing about her glory. She was the Devi, the Goddess– she brought balance to the world.
Prapti moved her hips back and forth, anticipating the thrill of the Devi’s powerful blood washing over her mouth and face. With Prapti’s help, the Devi would rid the world of the ones who would bring about change and hope. The children with a special light in their souls were dangerous to the delicate balance that kept the world from straining to be more than it should.
Prapti opened her eyes and looked at the altar. Tonight, the Devi would visit the little girl that had brought them to this place. Now that they were out of their red-lined house, there would be nothing to stop the Goddess from finishing her work. Prapti continued to caress herself until she sank to her knees before the altar. Eyes glazed and teeth bared, she let out a cry of ecstasy.
Chapter Twenty-nine
She parked the car on the road at the front of the house and hurried up the walkway. As soon as Jackson opened the door, Maggie could tell he’d been crying. Instead of apologising for turning up without calling, she gripped his arm.
“What’s wrong?”
“Gran died,” he said flatly, stepping aside for Maggie to enter.
She followed Jackson, mind reeling as he led her through to the kitchen. He slumped into a chair, hands splayed out on the table. The house was silent save for the distant cry of birds. Maggie sat without being asked and reached across the table to take Jackson’s hand. Questions tumbled around in her mind, but she waited, giving him time to gather himself.
“Last night, after I spoke to you, she seemed a bit tired… She gets like that sometimes.” He shrugged and continued. “While Dad was watching TV, Gran and I, we talked for a while. She went to bed at her usual time.” The muscles in his face twitched as if he was struggling to control his emotions. “When she didn’t come out for breakfast, Dad went to check on her.” His voice wavered and he looked down at Maggie’s hand holding his.
Maggie squeezed it and waited.
“She just went to sleep and never woke up.”
“I’m so sorry, Jackson. I know you were close to your gran.” She wanted to comfort him but didn’t know what else to say.
Before either of them could speak again, Jackson’s father appeared in the doorway. He looked at Maggie, but didn’t really see her. He was tall and skinny with slightly stooped shoulders, an older version of Jackson only darker. His hair was dishevelled, eyes red and puffy. He’d missed a button when putting on his shirt, giving his body a lopsided appearance.
“Oh. I thought it was the doctor.” As he spoke, his gaze drifted towards the conservatory.
“No, Dad. It’s Maggie. You know, from work.”
Jackson’s father reached across the table and offered Maggie his hand. She didn’t know what to do, so she shook it, noticing the distinctive odour of tobacco.
“Thanks for coming. Um... do you want a cup of tea or something?”
Maggie suddenly realised that he thought she’d come to pay her respects. She could feel herself blushing with embarrassment. She was grateful when Jackson intervened.
“I’ll make it. Why don’t you go and lie down until the doctor gets here?” He stood up and put the kettle on to boil. His father nodded and turned to leave, but then stopped and looked back at Maggie.
“She was talking about you last night. She really liked you. It would mean a lot to her that you’re here.” He seemed to be about to say something else, but his eyes clouded over as if he were lost in thought.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” The same words she had given Jackson. They seemed so meaningless.
He nodded and then left Maggie and Jackson alone in the kitchen.
She looked towards the conservatory where she’d sat with Manjula only yesterday, remembering the old lady’s kind smile and warm hands, wishing they’d met sooner– that she’d had more time with the woman. As it was, all they’d talked about was the Acheri, and Maggie felt that she’d missed the chance to get to know someone special. Another reason to despise Prapti and the evil she’d brought to Thorn Tree.
Jackson abandoned the tea and came and sat back down.
“Why did you come, Maggie?”
She was surprised by his sudden change of direction but plunged in. “I needed to ask Manjula more about the Acheri.”
Jackson nodded. “Yesterday when she woke up from her nap, she seemed fine. She
didn’t really eat anything, but I thought she was just tired. She talked about you. She said she was worried. Worried because she knew you were going to try to stop the Acheri.” He looked towards the conservatory before continuing.
“She must have known something was happening to her because she made me promise I’d tell you something.” He hesitated, looking down at his hands. Maggie could tell he was trying to compose himself, so she waited.
When he looked up, his eyes were shiny. “She told me that there might be a way to stop the Acheri. She said the answer came back to her in a dream. She dreamed she was a little girl and she heard her mother talking about it the night they left Naghar. I just wish I’d listened more carefully, but I told her not to wear herself out…I said we could talk about it tomorrow.” He ran his hand over his eyes in frustration.
“Jackson, I know this is difficult, but what exactly did she say about the Acheri?” Maggie tried to keep her voice even. She could see Jackson was doing his best, and badgering him wouldn’t help him remember.
“Something about a red... mantle? Yeah, that’s it. She said you needed to find a vaidya and use her mantle to destroy the Acheri.”
Maggie frowned. She had no idea what he was talking about. “Do you know what any of that means?”
“Sorry.” He shook his head. “I was going to ask her to explain it to me today. Sometimes she lapsed back into Hindi when she was tired, so I let it go...” His voice trailed off.
Maggie thought for a moment and then asked him if Manjula mentioned a stranger in her village. A woman that was new to the area, but Jackson shook his head.
“Just the thing about the red mantle. She said you had the heart of a lion and would know what to do.” He gave an embarrassed laugh.
Maggie nodded and tried to think.
“Does your father smoke?” she asked.
“Yes.” Jackson was clearly surprised by the question.
“Can I have one?”
“Um...yeah. I can get you one. I just didn’t think you smoked.”
“I don’t...I mean, I haven’t for about ten years, but right now I need one.”
Maggie stared out at the conservatory. Manjula’s old leather armchair sat as a painful reminder of its owner’s absence. Even if she knew what she was supposed to do, which she didn’t, would she have the courage to do it? Was she the right person for all this?
A few minutes later, Jackson returned to the kitchen with a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. Maggie thanked him and asked if it was all right if she went outside through the conservatory to smoke one. Jackson shrugged and nodded, but Maggie could tell the boy disapproved.
“Jackson, would your dad know what a vada is?”
“Vaidya,” he corrected. “He doesn’t speak Hindi, but maybe. You go smoke, I’ll ask him.”
When she was outside, Maggie took a cigarette out of the packet and lit it using Mr. Palmer’s Zippo. She took a long drag. The smoke hit the back of her throat and a rush of dizziness filled her head. Time was ticking away, and the longer she waited, the sicker Harness would get. But with Manjula gone, she didn’t know what to do next. Mantle. The word could have a number of meanings. Until she knew what vaidya meant, it was impossible to know one way or another.
She’d been running on adrenalin since early morning, pinning all her hopes on Manjula’s knowledge. Now all she had was a cryptic message and no time to decipher it. Exhausted and empty, Maggie blew out a cloud of smoke, watching it drift across the backyard.
The news of the old lady’s death hit her hard, snatching away any chance of stopping whatever was killing Harness. Manjula thought she had the heart of a lion, but the old lady was wrong. Maggie was afraid. Afraid to act and afraid to run away. When her marriage ended, she ran. So scared of facing everyone, she’d left Perth and made a big show of starting a new life when really, she was just hiding from her old life. Her failures?
Face to face with Prapti at the café, she’d been almost too scared to move. How the hell had she convinced herself she was going to take the woman on and face a supernatural creature with the powers of a walking plague? Her hands were shaking even thinking about it.
She took another drag of the cigarette, nervously flicking the lighter open and closed in the opposite hand. Her options were little to none. She could do nothing and let Harness die. Annabel would probably be next, followed by God knew who else. There was no way of telling how many people would die before the creature was done with Thorn Tree. Or, Maggie thought as she stubbed out the cigarette, she could drive out to Knoll Road and confront Prapti, probably get herself killed. Whichever way she looked at it, the future was bleak.
The back door creaked open. Maggie turned to see Jackson approaching.
“Have you decided what you’re going to do?”
“What do you mean?” Maggie asked, knowing full well what he meant.
“About the Acheri? Whatever it is, I want to help.”
Maggie first instinct was to refuse. The last thing she wanted was for anyone else to get hurt, but could she protect him? If the demon set her sights on anyone helping Maggie, maybe it was already too late. Jackson was young, but there was a glint of determination in his eyes that made her wonder if he was tougher than he looked. She knew she couldn’t do it alone, and more importantly, she trusted him.
He continued as if sensing her reluctance. “My gran lost her friend to this thing, I’m not going to let that happen to me.”
Maggie felt tears sting her eyes. She really had underestimated him. He was a good man and a good friend.
“What about your father? You can’t leave him alone with... with your gran?”
“It’s okay. I just rang Mary again and she said Dr Cole is on his way. She’s going to look after his patients until he gets back.”
“Did you ask him about vaidya?”
“Yeah. He knew right away. I can’t believe I didn’t recognise the word, Gran was always going on about it.” He smiled and shook his head at the memory.
Maggie listened with growing excitement. She suddenly saw things very clearly and a plan starting forming in her mind. She looked down at the lighter in her hand and had another idea.
“Jackson.” She cut him off mid-sentence. “Does your dad have more fluid for this?” Maggie held up the lighter.
Chapter Thirty
Maggie glanced right then left before tearing through the stop sign. She looked over at Jackson, surprised at how unfazed he looked by her driving. They needed to make a few stops before heading out to Knoll Road, and with every new piece of information, time slipped away.
“Jackson, call Mary now and tell her what we need.”
Jackson nodded and made the call. Maggie listened as he explained what they wanted. She was impressed by the way he handled himself, explaining their unusual request. While she’d always liked him, she’d also viewed him as shy and eager to please. Maybe he was those things, but she’d realised he was also calm and stoic. Qualities she suspected he’d inherited from his grandmother. If he were ten years older and she didn’t have Harness in her life... she left the thought unfinished.
Jackson ended the call. “It took a bit of manoeuvring, but she’s going to have it ready for us.”
“Wow. You can be very convincing. I’m going to take you with me every time I go demon hunting.” In spite of everything they both laughed, lifting the tension.
Maggie pulled up in front of the surgery at eleven thirty. “I’ll go in,” she said. “You know what to get, right?”
“Yes. If the hardware shop’s not open, I’ll go around the back and knock until Phil lets me in.” Jackson jumped out of the car. “Won’t be long.” He trotted off towards the shops, head up, shoulders back. She wondered if he was as unafraid as he appeared.
Maggie left the car and jogged towards the entrance, stopping to read the sign taped to the door: “Flu Centre.”
The sign was written in red pen. It put her in mind of something she’d read about the bubonic p
lague and how a red X was painted on sufferers’ doors. In spite of the heat, the sweat on her neck turned cold. She guessed the sign was designed to keep everyone else away, limit the chances of spreading the sickness. She wondered what people would do if they knew the sickness wasn’t spread in the usual ways. Maybe it was better that they didn’t know it was a plague that sought out victims with a deliberateness unseen in any normal virus. She could imagine the panic if people knew they couldn’t protect themselves from a new type of Black Death.
Maggie pushed open the door to the surgery, surprised to see the waiting room empty.
“They’re too scared to come, in case they catch something,” Mary said from the reception desk.
“Oh. It’s probably the smart thing to do, but—”
“You don’t think it matters.” Mary finished the thought for her. Her usually easy going smile was replaced by a drawn, tired expression. Maggie could only imagine what the woman had witnessed.
“Dr Cole told you what I’m doing?”
“Yes. Tony told me.”
Maggie braced herself, expecting Mary to call her crazy, maybe give her a tongue-lashing for making up ridiculous stories during a time of emergency.
“I’ve been a nurse for over thirty years. I’ve worked in emergency rooms, prisons and even in a mental health facility. I’ve seen… A lot of misery. And death. I’ve learned to keep an open mind.” She paused and looked around the empty waiting room. “This isn’t a flu outbreak– not like any I’ve ever seen. It’s something... sinister. If you can do anything to stop it, do it soon, before more children die.”
Maggie couldn’t hide her surprise. She’d expected Mary to scoff at the notion of supernatural forces. A week ago Maggie herself would have done just that. But one thing was clear: the events of the last few days had blurred the line dividing dark and light. It seemed, like Maggie, Mary felt the line wavering.
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