‘No, we wait until everyone’s in bed before we leave. We can’t risk one of them seeing us.’
‘Right, okay. We better get some sleep then.’ She traced the buttons of his shirt with her fingertips, tilting her head to lick the inside of his lips.
‘Jose – we may not make it back, you know.’
‘At least we’ll be together.’
They held each other until the last of the light in the study had faded, and the night came rolling in.
This Mirror Isn’t Big Enough For the Both of Us
1
Woodthorpe, Nottinghamshire
‘Look, Mrs Atterby, I just need five minutes with him. I know he’s already been questioned, but it’s really important. The information he gives us could help us find Stuart Matherson.’
Cedric Atterby’s mother returned Morrow’s request with a cold stare, defensive at what she saw as emotional blackmail. ‘He’s upstairs, first room on the left. You’ll be wasting your time mind you. He’s hardly spoken a word to me since the police found him wandering around like a zombie.’ She flicked her head towards the staircase, giving her permission for Morrow and Reeves to go up.
Morrow could see the cracks in her hard exterior by the way the corner of her lip quivered when she closed her mouth.
‘You have exactly five minutes. I’ll be counting,’ she warned.
‘Come on, sir, this doesn’t feel right. What can we possibly learn from this kid?’ Reeves whispered.
‘Just trust me for once. There’s a good little partner,’ Morrow bit back. He was convinced that Cedric Atterby knew more than he was saying – not that he had said much at all. If his mother was right and he had hardly spoken a word since his return, he’d said even less to the police. They had found Atterby hiding in an old derelict factory building, about a mile from his home. When they brought him in, he crouched, shivering in a corner of the interview room. A police counsellor was drafted in to establish if he had been sexually abused – no evidence could be found. All anyone managed to obtain from him was that he had seen Stuart on his way home from school that afternoon, but there was also a man with them too. Pressed further, Atterby wept and maintained he couldn’t remember anything else.
The detectives reached the top of the stairs. Atterby’s bedroom door was open and his light was out. The boy sat on the edge of his bed, straight backed, staring through his window at the red menace coating the skyline. He didn’t flinch, or even acknowledge Morrow and Reeves as they shuffled inside. His eyes were fixed, reflecting the fires that would burn into the night. Over in the corner, a small portable TV projected the static DVD menu of the classic children’s’ show, The Magic Roundabout. Its surreal theme tune hummed on a constant loop.
Morrow pulled the small plastic chair away from Atterby’s desk and moved it next to the bed. He wasn’t sure if it would take his weight, but he wanted to get down to the boy’s eye level. Atterby’s face was harsh to look at, sharp, angled features, with creases you would expect to find on someone four times his age, not so aggressive today however. Morrow knew his type – only child, absent daddy, doting mother, always spoiling him against his better interests. He knew it so well because he had been subjected to the same upbringing.
‘Cedric?’ Morrow spoke softly. Atterby never moved. ‘You know why we’re here, don’t you? I know this must be like déjà vu for you…Thing is, I went to see Stuart Matherson’s parents today, and unfortunately had to give them some bad news. It broke their hearts because the information I gave to them suggests that Stuart has been killed. I left their house wondering if I actually believed what I’d told them. You see, the conclusions I’ve drawn make me wonder if he’s still alive somewhere.’
Reeves looked at his senior with curiosity, until he realised that Morrow was simply playing one of his angles again.
‘I think there is something that you haven’t told the police, something that is going to help us find out what really happened to Stuart – maybe we can even save him.’
Atterby’s eyes glazed over, static, but Morrow guessed that the boy wasn’t really looking into the clouds. He was looking at something else, something beyond. ‘If he is alive right now, I don’t think he has much time,’ Morrow said. Still, Atterby kept his silence. The boy was virtually catatonic. There was even a hint of drool forming at the corners of his mouth.
Reeves leaned over to Morrow’s ear. ‘Come on, sir. He’s gone to La La land. We may as well be standing in Madame Tussauds right now. And, by the way, what makes you so certain that the Matherson kid is alive?’
‘Because I think Flynn is,’ Morrow replied.
‘Why? We know he got on that train.’
‘Look, it’s not something I want to get into right now – I just know.’
‘There was a man with us – me and Stuart.’ Atterby spoke, and the voice that came from him sounded much deeper than it should, much older than his years. ‘He showed me things – all the things he has done, the things he’s going to do. I guess he decided to show me because I enjoyed hurting people. He thought I might like it.’ Atterby’s expressionless face changed and the detectives couldn’t tell whether it was a grin or a grimace that had formed. ‘I didn’t. I didn’t like it one bit.’
‘Who was this man, Cedric, did he look like this?’ Morrow held up the photograph of Jerrico that he’d taken from his apartment.
‘No.’ Atterby pointed at it. ‘He’s just another one of them.’
‘One of what?’ Reeves asked.
Atterby seemed more lucid and this time he was definitely smiling. ‘First born,’ he said.
‘What does that mean?’ Morrow said, scribbling the two words into his notebook. ‘Did this man take Stuart Matherson?’ he went on.
‘Stuart’s safe. He’s with her now – for the moment at least,’ Atterby said.
Morrow focussed on the child. ‘The man you speak of, where can we find him?’
Half-shrouded in shadow, Atterby’s face turned cold, still smiling. ‘You don’t find him. He finds you, and soon, you will all get to meet him,’ he replied.
Reeves noticed the presence of the boy’s mother first, waiting in the doorway.
Morrow was too busy examining Atterby’s face. For a brief moment, it seemed to change its constitution, as if it were melting clay. By the time Morrow had blinked, it was back to normal.
‘You’ve had six and a half minutes.’
Morrow recognised Mrs Atterby’s voice and stood up, backing away from her son. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Atterby, we really seem to be getting somewhere, Cedric and I,’ he said.
‘Yeah, it looks like it,’ she replied.
Morrow looked back at the boy and saw that he’d readopted his drug-like pose, staring into the clouds outside again.
‘Unless you’d like me to call your superiors and tell them you’ve been harassing our family with no good reason, I suggest you and your partner get the bloody hell out of my house.’ She stood in the hallway, marking their retreat by pointing towards the stairs.
As the detectives reached the doorway, Morrow paused. Something caught his ear over the repetitive music from the TV set – a low hiss. He turned back to the bed to see Atterby’s lips moving again. He stepped closer so he could pick out the whisper, a phrase the boy seemed to be repeating. ‘The sky will fall to end us all. The sky will fall to end us all. The sky will fall to—’
‘Detective, I won’t ask you again.’ Mrs Atterby had returned to the doorway, her anger growing.
Reeves stood at the Mondeo’s passenger door, mobile phone to his ear. He looked concerned about the conversation he was having. He ended the call, gazing at his boss, stunned and pale. ‘It’s Walton. There’s been some sort of viral outbreak in the village. It’s been sealed off and the army is about to move in,’ he said.
‘We have to get in there,’ Morrow said.
‘Did you not hear what I said? It’s been quarantined.’
‘I heard what you said, now get in the car.’<
br />
Reeves scowled and did as he was told, slamming the door behind him.
2
Martha found herself in that place again. Whether it was a dream or some form of hyper-reality, she was there all the same – conscious, but without form. There were bodies present, however: the first born – Kaleb, Heven, Evelyn and the rest, suspended together in the utter blackness, forming a circle. They were all quite a distance away, so it was difficult for Martha to see whether they were awake.
About twenty feet from each of them at the heart of the circle, a large mirror spun incessantly on its axis. Light seemed to shimmer from its silver frame as it increased the speed of its rotations. She gazed into the reflection and saw a figure standing inside the frame. On the next turn she realised it was a little brown haired boy, and on the next, the clothes he wore – a pair of tattered dungarees.
As the glass spun to face her again, the image of the boy was gone, replaced by a man, and on closer inspection, a man wearing a business suit and bowler hat. His face was white but the mirror spun too quickly for her to see his features. Even though she had never seen him before, she knew instantly who he was. She had listened in dread as Evelyn, Stuart and Jerrico had described their encounters with him.
The others around her stayed motionless, their heads bowed. She noticed something else, something she’d inexplicably missed before. Her body was there too, levitating between Vladimir and Barnes, with one significant difference. Martha’s body pointed in the opposite direction from everyone else’s. The image reminded her of an inverted cross, a symbol used in satanic worship.
The mirror stopped suddenly, the glass facing in her direction. The man was gone.
3
Briaridge Orchard, Bedfordshire
Before she opened her eyes, Martha felt the hand over her mouth, fingertips pressing into her cheek. She was awake and in her bed. It was still dark. Ashley leaned over her with a finger to her own lips. ‘Don’t wake the others,’ she whispered.
Martha sat up, adjusting her eyes to the darkness. ‘What are you doing in here?’ she asked.
‘It’s Celeste – she needs to see you. Come with me,’ Ashley said. Martha almost fell out of bed, grabbing the pair of jeans that she had left on the floor. Her legs still half-asleep, she stumbled after Ashley and into the hallway.
Vladimir was waiting for them, leaning against the wall outside his own room, cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. ‘Looks like it’s just you and me, baby,’ he said.
Martha turned for the stairs, barely acknowledging his presence. When they reached the next floor and entered Celeste’s room, Martha and Vladimir were struck by the sight of the beautifully crafted standing mirror, placed a few feet from the dying girl’s bed. It was the same mirror they used to enter the manor. Martha remembered her recent dream, and the mirror she’d seen there – it was the same one.
Ashley had already taken the sleeping girl’s hand, and the peculiar atmosphere washed over them. She turned her pale eyes to them, completely under Celeste’s spell. ‘I’m sending you to Walton – Jerrico’s home.’
‘You left instructions that none of us were to follow him,’ Martha said.
‘Yeah, and that was the right decision,’ Vladimir added. He dropped his spent cigarette butt to the floor, squashing it with the toe of his boot.
‘I said you were forbidden to leave the manor’s grounds, but for you two, the rules have changed. Jerrico needs you. He’s trapped between Cradleworth and the authorities. He can’t escape without your help.’
‘So what, we go through the mirror…’ Martha said.
‘And return in the same way as you came,’ Celeste replied.
‘You want us to walk through a portal which could lead us straight into the arms of our enemy?’
‘I’m asking you to save your friend.’
‘Fucker ain’t my friend,’ Vladimir said.
‘On Kal Denon you were very close.’
‘Well, we ain’t there now, are we?’ he replied with a smirk.
‘That’s correct – you are far more vulnerable here on earth, and need one another more than you ever did. Don’t let these cruel psychological barriers damn everything else around you, there is too much at stake.’ Ashley’s cold eyes gazed into his heart with a resonance he could not resist.
‘Just open the fucking door.’
Ashley turned her head towards the standing mirror, and a shimmer ran across its surface. ‘Remember, same way back. You must be quick.’
‘Ladies first.’ Vladimir gestured for Martha to go ahead of him.
‘No,’ she replied, offering her hand. ‘We go together.’ Vladimir took it reluctantly, and they moved to face the liquefied glass, rippling like the current of a vertical stream.
As Vladimir began to step through, breaking the barrier between two worlds, Martha heard a groan and looked back to see Ashley slumping onto the bed in exhaustion. She felt the tug on her arm and entered into the cold fluid herself. The journey was short but harrowing.
When they emerged from the mirror on the other side, they found themselves in a house that didn’t seem to belong to anyone. Most of the furniture had been removed, and there were dustsheets cast over everything else. They moved downstairs silently, Vladimir no longer comfortable without his gun drawn.
The ground floor was much the same. The front door was locked, so Martha had to kick it open. Outside, rain poured from the heavens, and the strange red clouds were just as prominent over Walton village as everywhere else. The streets were deserted, all house lights and street lamps extinguished, the only aid to visibility the red glow from above and the fires that raged in two buildings across the street. About thirty yards ahead, Vladimir spied a car that mounted the pavement flipped onto its side. Many of the other houses and shops either had smashed windows or broken down doors. The only sounds were the raindrops beating down against the concrete, the crackling flames from the fires, and the popping windows as they gave in to the heat. There weren’t any signs of life.
‘Doing this quickly is going to be tough when we don’t know where the hell we are,’ Vladimir said, tracing his gun through his field of vision.
‘Let’s keep moving. Whatever trouble Jerrico’s in, I’m sure it will find us too,’ Martha said. They only had left or right to choose from, so they chose left towards the centre of the village.
4
Walton, England
‘Can you see anything?’
‘Shh.’ Cylon squinted through the gap in the plating of the power station’s rolling shutter. He needed to rely on his eyes. It was impossible to hear any sounds of movement outside because the heavy rain fell like a shower of stones on the metal structure of their hiding place. Cylon couldn’t see anything, not a damn thing. It was too dark. ‘I think we’re okay,’ he said. He jumped down from the two wooden pallets that he’d placed together in order to reach the spy hole.
‘For now.’ The young man who replied sat down on the cold concrete floor of the empty building. Another man sat next to him, head in hands. Cylon’s younger sister Sarah sat opposite them, weeping, being comforted by her grandmother. Cylon had led them all here, narrowly escaping the madness that was swallowing Walton’s heart.
The dangerous secret Cylon still carried, seeing Jerrico on the night of the murders and dropping him off at the bus station to make his getaway, what his friend had said to him before they’d parted, had all contributed to saving their lives. Everything looked the same, but it all felt slightly off-kilter since he’d said goodbye to his friend that night. The murders of Frank and Fran left him cold – numb to almost everything around him; everything normal, that is. Afterwards, he started to hear rumours about people who lived close by. They had travelled to the shops in the centre of the village and failed to return home to their families. The following morning, Rodney Freeman, one of the local paperboys, raced down the road on his bicycle, screaming that people in the village square had gone mad and tried to attack him. Fo
rtunately, Cylon’s parents had gone to stay with friends for a couple of days, and his brother was away at University in Leeds, so he only had his sister and his grandparents to worry about.
It was more force than persuasion that enabled him to bundle all three of them into the car, with nothing more than the clothes on their backs. Cylon didn’t have a clue where he was taking them. All he knew was they needed to get out of Walton as fast as possible. As they travelled out of the village, they encountered two young men sprinting down the centre of the road. Cylon recognised them both from school, Todd James and Mark Hampton. Following close behind them were a group of five people, three men and two women. It seemed that the group were pursuing Todd and Mark, who waved to Cylon, trying desperately to flag him down.
Of course, he couldn’t leave them there, so he stopped to let them in. They screamed at him to put his foot down but the five pursuers crashed into the side of the car, scratching and clawing at the windows. As Cylon pulled away, he got a good look at one of them. He didn’t recognise the woman through the blood and the brutal expression that contorted her face. He backed up slightly and powered forward, managing to shake them from the vehicle.
Todd and Mark were terrified, and explained their harrowing story of first being attacked by Mark’s parents, then chased by the other group they had just evaded. They also told Cylon of the roadblocks set around Walton’s perimeter. Todd and Mark had tried to leave themselves, but were prevented by the army, who warned them that if they didn’t turn back they would open fire.
Cylon had to think fast. He made a swift right turn to Haven Crest on the outskirts of the village. He remembered the power station up on the hill, abandoned since the late eighties. All the machinery had been stripped from it and the building was nothing more than an empty shell. It was secure enough though, as secluded as it was possible to be in Walton. They made it there too, but unfortunately, as they exited the car to scramble the hill, Cylon’s Grandpa began to go into seizure. His heart was weak and the stress was too much for his aged body. The only burial they had time to perform for him was to lay him flat on the back seat of the car.
Infanticide (Fallen Gods Saga Book 2) Page 5
