by Davies, Neil
The Professor, noticing Tim for the first time, lifted his hand in his own wave.
“Mr. Galton. Nice to see you.”
“Professor.” Tim walked forward and took the offered hand in a firm shake. “Are you meeting your daughter off the ferry?”
The Professor’s brow furrowed.
“No, no. I was just out walking.” He paused, eyes glancing nervously past Tim and up the road to the village. “To be honest, I’m getting a little concerned about her.”
“Concerned?”
“She went off on her own this morning. We’d had a little disagreement about… well, about what to do really. I expected her to be in touch by now. She’s not answering her phone.”
“I’m sure she’s fine. Byre’s a pretty quiet place.” Except for those thugs in the car park the other day, and the murder, thought Tim, but he kept his disquiet to himself.
“There’s something going on here Mr. Galton. I’m not sure exactly what, but things aren’t right. I really am getting very worried about Susan.”
Tim looked over the Professor’s shoulder as the ferry docked, old man Crosby tying the rope off with impressive ease for a man of his age.
“Why don’t we walk back to the village together,” suggested Tim, looking back to the Professor. “Maybe we’ll meet her on the way. She’s probably looking for you too.”
The Professor forced a smile. He certainly welcomed the company.
“Tim!”
The shout startled them both as Steve Ives jumped from the ferry boat and ran over to them. He was smiling, but Tim thought he detected a falseness to the smile, hiding tension beneath.
“I hear you met up with Katrina then,” said Steve.
Tim stiffened slightly, a sudden discomfort settling in his stomach.
“I hope that’s not a problem,” he said. “I don’t want to step on any toes, but you two seemed well separated.”
Steve waved a hand dismissively in the air.
“Don’t worry about that,” he said. “There’s nothing between me and Katrina any more. But listen, I do need to talk to you, in private.” He glanced towards the Professor. “No offence.”
“None taken,” said the Professor around the stem of his pipe.
“I haven’t got time just now,” Steve continued. “Got to get back on the ferry for the return journey. Maybe we could meet later? I’ll come round to your house. It’s really important Tim. Something you need to know.”
“Fine,” said Tim, puzzled but not overly concerned now the awkwardness over Katrina was gone. “Call round any time after you’ve finished on the ferry. I should be home by then.”
Steve smiled, a little more genuinely this time Tim thought, and hurried back towards the quayside, waving as he went.
“Wonder what that’s all about?” said Tim.
“No doubt you’ll find out later,” said the Professor, ever the practical man. “Are you still okay to walk to the village?”
“Certainly,” said Tim. “Shall we go?”
As they began to walk, Tim put on his most casual voice and said, “So, what are you and your daughter really up to in Byre Professor?”
With barely a moment’s hesitation the Professor repeated the lie he had told on their first meeting.
“I told you Mr. Galton. I’m researching a new book and we’re…”
“Visiting an old friend. Yes, I remember that’s what you said, but, to be honest, I don’t believe you. Why did those kids attack you? Where’s your daughter gone that you should be so worried? And just a moment ago you said something’s going on here in Byre. What exactly?”
“Mr. Galton,” said the Professor, irritation sharpening his voice. “I do not take kindly to being called a liar. I have told you our business here and that’s that!”
Tim raised his hands in mock surrender.
“Sorry Professor. Force of habit. I spent some time behind enemy lines in Afghanistan and it makes you suspicious of everything and everyone. Plus you get used to listening to every word people say, looking for the tell-tale giveaways.”
“That’s okay Mr. Galton,” said the Professor, his voice calmer. “You were in Special Forces then?”
“Well guessed Professor.”
“It wasn’t hard Mr. Galton. First there was the way you dealt with those thugs in the car park, and now your confession to spending time behind enemy lines. Fairly obvious conclusion to be drawn I think.”
Tim smiled. The old man was right, of course, and those months under cover had made the rest of his last tour before retirement seem relatively stress free. A few odd things going on in his home town were not going to worry him particularly and neither was a recalcitrant old professor.
“Nevertheless Professor,” he said, still smiling. “You are lying to me. As you can probably imagine I’ve a lot of experience with people lying and I know the signs. Why not just tell me the truth?”
They stopped walking and the Professor spent a moment deep in thought.
“Let me make a deal with you Mr. Galton,” he said finally. “If you will truly help me search for my missing daughter then I will tell you everything. Once you know you will understand my concern for her whereabouts.”
“Agreed,” said Tim. After all, he had nothing else to do with his time.
Back down by the quayside he heard the engine of Mr. Crosby’s battered old Cortina starting up. It was a distinctive sound and one he remembered from his childhood. It still sounded in desperate need of a tune-up.
“Sounds like Mr. Crosby’s on the move,” he said to the Professor. “Best keep well in to the side of the road. I doubt his driving has improved over the years.”
The Cortina sped up the road, the engine coughing, the gears crashing. Wherever the old man was off to, he was in a hurry.
Tim was surprised when the car pulled to a stop alongside himself and the Professor and Mr. Crosby wound the window down.
“I overheard you talking back there,” said Mr. Crosby, leaning across the passenger seat. “Something about a missing girl?”
“The Professor’s daughter, yes,” said Tim. “Why?”
“Because Ethel Barlow has just rung me to say she’s got a girl there, hiding out from some thugs who were chasing her.”
Tim and the Professor exchanged glances. It could be nothing to do with Susan, but they couldn’t ignore it.
“I’m just on my way up there,” said Mr. Crosby, pushing open the passenger door of the Cortina. “Fancy a lift?”
2
Katrina said nothing, but the silence was more frightening than any words could have been. Brian, Jimmy, Candida and Janie stood around the room, none of them daring to look up into Katrina’s eyes, except Janie who, as Katrina’s sometime lover, hoped for some sign that she was excused from the anger. She got none.
Mark stood nearby, just behind Katrina, displaying a deep frown of disappointment. Inside, however, he was just happy this screw up had nothing to do with him. He knew what Katrina was capable of.
“I’m really sorry,” said Brian, his voice weak and trembling. “She was following me. I just thought...”
“Shut up,” said Katrina, quietly but with authority. “Don’t say anything more. Brian, I know the full story.”
She looked from Brian to the others, focussing for a moment on each pair of frightened eyes as she spoke.
“Every one of you has told me your version of what happened and tried to convince me that you, personally, had tried to stop the rest, that you went along in the hope of controlling the situation. Basically that it wasn’t your fault. Taken as a whole, none of you are to blame for what happened. What do you think Mark? Are they all blameless?”
Mark shook his head slowly and sneered.
“Spineless cowards,” he said, speaking as though the words themselves tasted rotten.
“You know, I think Mark is right. The only one of you who had the guts to actually admit they were in any way to blame for this fiasco was Brian. And yet, although Brian made the fi
rst mistake, you all decided to go on a little hunt of your own. But she got away!”
The room fell silent as Katrina stopped speaking. The lamps that provided the only light put the four teenagers in deep shadows. All of them stared at the floor either with shame or fear, or a crippling cocktail of both.
“Brian,” said Katrina, stepping forward to stand in front of him.
Trembling with fear, Brian Wright looked up, immediately transfixed by Katrina’s eyes.
Everything else darkened. There was nothing in his view, in his consciousness, but those eyes. Bright, huge, shining eyes. His heart thumped in his chest with terror, yet he could not turn away. From somewhere in the darkness a voice spoke to him.
“You did well in owning up to your mistake,” said Katrina in almost a whisper, leaning closer to him as sweat trickled over his bald head and down his face. “But you have put me in an awkward position.” She placed a hand on his chest. “I can feel your heart beating so fast.” Her voice dropped until it was barely audible. “I think it’s time it stopped, don’t you?”
She stepped away as Brian’s heart stuttered. He could no longer see the eyes. He could see nothing, just deep blackness as he clutched at his chest, unable to stop the pain that exploded there.
The others watched in horror as Brian fell to his knees, the crutches slowly, almost gracefully, dropping to the floor, one of them hitting Janie’s leg on the way down. After a brief moment, Brian sprawled sideways onto the carpet.
With a final twitch, his heart stopped beating.
Katrina turned to the others, no longer concerned with Brian. All of them stared at her with even greater fear and greater respect than before. None of them seemed overly concerned about their dead friend.
“You’ve forced my hand somewhat,” said Katrina with a sigh. “That woman you let escape is dangerous, more than you realise. Her and her father together are formidable enemies and it won’t take them long to decide I’m behind all this. The woman already knows. She just doesn’t trust her instinct enough yet. So, we need to step things up a little sooner than planned.”
She glanced back towards Mark, who had not moved nor changed expression the whole time.
“Myself and Mark are heading for the old Galton house. Once you’ve disposed of Brian, I want you to meet us there. There are things to be done.”
3
Avoiding the father-daughter reunion, Tim listened to Ethel’s story of how she had come to shelter Susan.
“It sounds like the same group who attacked the Professor and his daughter in the car park the other day,” he said. “Just what is their problem?”
“It was the same ones,” said Susan as she and the Professor joined the others round Ethel’s kitchen table.
“They’re part of them,” said Ethel. “Taking over the village bit by bit. It’s not safe to walk the dog sometimes.”
“Now Ethel,” said Mr. Crosby, a note of warning and fear in his voice. “Be careful what you say.”
“I’m too old and too tired to be afraid any more, Adam,” said Ethel, a steely resolve in her eyes that Tim recognised, although he was surprised to find it in the old lady. It was the look he had seen in some of his fellow Special Forces soldiers’ eyes before they went into battle. It was a determination to get the job done, whatever the consequences for themselves.
“Do you think that’s wise?” said Mr. Crosby.
“Maybe not. But they’re destroying Byre, and who knows where they’ll head then?”
“Who exactly are they Mrs. Barlow,” said the Professor. “Can you tell us what’s going on in Byre?”
“Black magic,” said Ethel. “Demons. Things that go bump in the night. Witches.”
“You’re joking, right?” said Tim, smiling uncertainly. “I mean, I know there are a few people who dabble in these things, but they’re just harmless aren’t they? Or con artists out to extort a bit of money from sad, lonely people.” He turned to Mr. Crosby. “This is just like your mermaid, right?””
Mr. Crosby hesitated, looked at Ethel and sighed. Very slowly he shook his head.
“This is no joke, Tim.”
“It’s why we’re here,” said the Professor. “It’s what Father Rex wanted us to look into.”
Tim was stunned. Everyone else seemed to accept this strangeness as perfectly normal. But witches? Here in Byre in the 21st Century? He struggled with the idea.
“And it’s getting worse,” said Ethel. “I think they’re building up towards crowning a new Village Witch.”
“They tried once before, many years ago,” said Mr. Crosby. “Before you were born Tim. But they failed. The witch, or woman or whoever she was, wasn’t strong enough.”
“But this time?” asked the Professor.
“They seem very strong,” said Ethel. “Very sure of themselves.”
Mr. Crosby nodded.
“I think this time they might just have a chance of succeeding, and then God help us all!”
AELLO
She sensed there was trouble.
Her strengthening link with the heir to the title of Village Witch warned her that there were potential problems, people who could endanger her return to the corporeal world. She could not allow that to happen.
She called, a shrill, terrible scream impossible for all but one of the living to hear. She called for her Keres to return, and she called to another.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
1
Sleeping in the caves beneath the Galton house, Christina heard the call and woke. Aello wanted her. Aello was calling her.
The ghosts of the cave were agitated, darting back and forth, writhing in sinuous knots about each other and about Christina. They had also heard the call, although it was not meant for them. They could not yet leave, could not accompany the living person who fed their needs, locked them to this world and the service of Aello. They needed human hosts to venture forth and they did not yet have them. Frustration, excitement, even anger ran freely through them, but they could do nothing but watch as Christina, her head full of Aello’s wishes, Aello’s commands, crawled towards the little-used exit near the back of the widest cave. The exit onto the streets of Byre.
2
“Where are we heading?” asked Susan, struggling along with the help of her father and Ethel.
“It’s a good question,” agreed Mr. Crosby at the back of the small group.
Tim, leading, stopped and turned back, shrugging his shoulders.
“As far as I can tell we don’t have too many choices. We could go back to your hotel, Professor, but I don’t think a public place like a hotel is our best bet. There’s Mr. Crosby’s, or Ethel’s, although since we’ve just come from there I’m guessing that’s not a realistic option. That leaves my place. It’s big enough for everyone and it’s pretty solid...”
“So we just have to trust you, do we?” Susan’s voice was bitter, edged with the pain that still griped every now and then from her injuries.
“Susan,” said the Professor quietly. “Please, you’re not being fair.”
Tim threw his arms up in frustration.
“What is your problem with me? Ever since I rescued you and your father in the car park you’ve made it clear how much you dislike me. Now, that’s fair enough. I couldn’t give a shit whether you like me or not, but I don’t understand why you distrust me so much?”
“Because I saw you with her!” shouted Susan. “You were with that bitch and as far as I’m concerned that makes you part of it.”
“Is this really the time or the place?” said Mr. Crosby, anxiously glancing around the night time street.
His attempt at intervention was ignored.
“Who?” said Tim, stunned, unable to think who it was the Professor’s daughter was talking about.
“The bitch from the school!”
“She means Miss Bayley,” said the Professor in his calmest of voices, hoping to defuse the situation his daughter had fired up.
“Miss...? You
mean Katrina?” Tim laughed in disbelief. “I’ve known Katrina all my life. We grew up together round here. What’s she got to do with all this?”
“She’s behind the whole thing,” said Susan, sneering the words out like the foulest venom.
“We don’t know that for certain,” said her father, and Susan snorted with derision. “It seems likely, but we have no proof.”
“We don’t need proof. It’s obvious.”
Tim looked at Susan, stunned. Could they really be suggesting that Katrina, his childhood fantasy and, he hoped, his future reality, was responsible for all the strange and terrible things going on in Byre? It was ridiculous, wasn’t it? How could it be anything else?
“You’re mad,” he said finally. “I don’t know whether it’s some kind of twisted jealousy thing or...”
“Jealous?” Susan sneered. “Of you and her? You’ve got to be kidding me!”
“Then I don’t know what your problem is, but you’ve definitely got one,” said Tim. “I’m sorry Professor, but if you agree with your daughter on this then you’re as mad as she is.”
Ethel, who had so far kept back, out of the argument, busy, as she was, watching the surrounding darkness, spoke up, her old voice quiet but strong and certain.
“I’m truly sorry Mr. Galton,” she said and everyone turned to look at her. “But the young lady is right. Everyone in the village knows it.”
She looked towards Mr. Crosby who nodded slowly, sadly.
“Knows what?” said Tim, an empty feeling in his stomach shifting, growling, gnawing at his nerves, his confidence.
“Why,” said Ethel. “That Katrina Bayley will be the next Village Witch of course.”
3
Christina could hear the voices. Not like the voice of Aello, but unknown voices outside of her head. Not far now. The voices were getting louder. She would see them soon, despite the darkness, and they would see her. It didn’t matter. This was her time to come out of hiding, to perform the will of Aello openly. She had waited so long to be set free, to prey on those who had abandoned her in the beginning. If they had searched the basement properly they might have found her, and her whole life might have been different. But she had no regrets. Aello was her life. Everything was done in worship of her.
